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From the Library of 
Bertram anJ Mabel Alatison 

PRESENTED TO THE UNIVERSITY . . . MCMLVIII 



Flowers 

from 

Persian Poets 

Edited hj 

NATHAN HASKELL DOLE 
BELLE M. WALKER 

roLUME II 




New Tork 
THOMAS Y. CROWELL ST CO 

PUBDIHSU 







SA'DI. 

Shaikh Sa'di, the nightingale of Shirai, as Jami poeti- 
cally calls ihis gifted poet, was born at Shiraz, the capital 
of Persia, near the end of the twelfth century. All biogra- 
phers agree that he lived to be over a hundred years old. 
Doulat Shah even crediting him with a hundred and twenty 
years. Shaikh Muslih-ud-Din, for that is Sa'di's real 
name, was patronized by Atabak Sad-ibn-Zangi, the Vice- 
roy of Persia, hence his takhailus, Sa'di ; to which was 
added as a great honor the title of Shaikh. At this lime 
tiie college at Baghdad was the great educational centre of 
the East, and there Sa'di was educated. He was of a 
religious temperament and is said to have made fourteen 
pilgrimages to Mecca. These journeys look place during 
the second period of his life, for most writers divide Sa'di's 
life into three parts ; the first devoted to study, the second 
to travel, and the third to seclusion, for at Shirai he built 
himself a hermitage and there, when over sixty, he devoted 
himself to his great literary career. Emerson, comment- 
ing on his varied experience, says ; " By turns, a student, a 
water-carrier, a traveller, a soldier fighting against the Chris- 
tians in the Crusades, a prisoner employed to dig trenches 
before Tripoli, and an honored poet in his protracted old 
age at home, — his varied and severe cjqierience took away 
all provincial tone, and gave him a facility of speaking to 
all conditions. But the commanding reason of his wider 
popularity is his deeper sense, which, in his treatment, 
expands the local forms and tints to a cosmopolitan 
breadth. Through his Persian dialect he speaks to all 

2S3 



254 



Sa'di. 



nations, and. like Homer, Sh^espe^ire, Cen-anies, and 
Montaigne, is peqieioally modern." Indeed, '"He has 
furnished the originals of a mullilude of tales and proverbs 
which are current in our moulhs, and attributed by us to 
recent writers ; as, for example, the story of ' Abraham and 
the Fire-worshippers,' once claimed for Doctor Franklin, 
and afterward traced to Jeremy Taylor, who probably 
found it in Olearius.*' 

His works number twenty-four.' Among those best 
known are the GiilislaM, or Rose Garden, and the Bustaii, 
or the Garden of Perfume. The Giilhian is a collection 
of short pithy stories, based on Sa'di's own varied experi- 
ences, and read, it is said, from the middle of China to the 
extreme corners of Africa, forming as it docs the basis 
of instruction in Mohammedan schools. In his Preface 
to the Gulistan, Sa'di tells how he came to write the 
book. " . . . It happened once, that I was benighted in 
a garden, in company with one of my friends. The spot 
was delightful, the trees inlertwined ; you would have said 
that the earth was bedecked with glass spangles, and that 
the knot of the Pleiades was suspended from the branch 
of the vine. A garden with a running stream, and trees 
from whence birds were warbling melodious strains ; that 
tilled with tulips of various hues ; these loaded with fruits 
of several kinds. Under the shade of its trees the lephyr 
had spread the variegated carpet. In the morning, when 
the desire to return home overcame our inclination for 
remaining, I saw in his lap a collection of roses, odorifer- 
ous herbs, and hyacinths, which he had intended to carry 
to town. I said, ' You are not ignorant of the fact that the 
flower of the garden soon fadeth, and that the enjoyment of 
the rosebush is but of short conlinuance ; and the sages 
have declared that the heart ought not to be set upon 
anything that is transitory.' He asked, ' What course is 
then to be pursued ? ' I replied : ' I am able to form a 

) Sir Gore Ouaeley in his Biographical NetUa b/ Persian Potti. 



CE 



Sa-Ji. 

book of roses, which will delight the h«holders, and gratify 
those who are present ; whose leaves the tyrannic arm of 
the autumnal blasts can never affect, nor injure the blossoms 
of its spring. What benefit will you derive from a basket 
of flowers ? Carry a leaf from my garden : a rose may 
continue la bloom for five or six days ; but this rose garden 
will flourish forever.' As soon as 1 had uttered these 
words, he flung the flowers from his lap, and, laying hold 
of the skirt of my garment, exclaimed, 'When the benefi- 
cent promise, ihey faithfully discharge their engagements.' 
In the course of a few days, two chapters (one on the com- 
forts of society, and the other containing rules for conver- 
sation) were written out in my noie-book, in a style that 
may be useful to orators, and improve the skill of letter- 
writers. In short, nhilst the rose was yet in bloom, the 
book entitled tlie Rose Garden was finished." ' 

The Bui/an, Sa'dt's other famous work, is also used as a 
text-book in military and civil examinations, and consists 
of ten chapters of didactic verse. The remarkable fact 
about his writings is the extremely simple way in which 
Ihey are expressed. He took his lessons from the world; 
indeed he went so far in his 7eal to experience all things 
personally that he at one time assumed the religion of the 
worshippers of Vishnu, a sect for which he really had no 
sympathy. The story of this assumed conversion is told 
in his Biistan.' 

Sa'di became a confirmed woman>hater, owing probably 
to his two unfortunate marriages. He himself has given 
us a graphic account of his first marriage in the Gitlis/aa * 
as well as a most lovely lament on the death of his only 
SOD.* His daughter lived to marry the famous Haliz. 

Taking his writings as a whole, oue may say that Sa'di's 
creed was cheerfulness and contentment. In fact he him- 
self tells us that he was never discontented but once in his 



256 



Sa'di. 



life, when he grumbled because he had no shoes. But 
shortly after he met a man who had no feel. His grumbling 

This dervish wit and linguist the Mohammedans wor- 
shipped as a saint, even allributing miracles to him. His 
body now lies entombed in the valley of Shirat, and is 
daily visited by devout pilgrims who say of him. In true 
Oriental fashion, that he *' perforated with the diamond of 
his soul the precious stones of his experiences, and, after 
gathering them on the string of eloquence, hung them for 
a talisman round the neck of posterity." 



GULISTAN ; OR, ROSE GARDEN.' 

Precace. 

T^e Glorious Qualities of the Monarch of the True 

Faith (May God make clear its Demonstration) 

Abu-Bakr-bin- Sad-bin -Zangi} 

The fair report of Sa'di, which is celebrated by the 

general voice ; and the fame of his sayings, which has 

travelled the whole surface of the earth ; and the loved 

reed,' which imparts his discourse, and which they 

devour like honey; and the manner in which men 

carry off the scraps of his writing, as though they were 



I Selections ft 



n Edward B. Easlwicl 



■The Otienlal iaiam 
reed. Tbis leads la 

" Hear the reed's complaining ■ 
Hear i< IciJ iu mournful tale! 
Tom from the spot ll loved « 
Its grief, its iighs, our tears a 



ge: 



GtUisian; or. Rose Garden. 



257 



gold leaf — are nol to be ascribed to the perfection of 
his own excellence or eloquence, but [to this, that] 
the Lord of the Earth, the Axis of the Revolution of 
Time, the Successor of Suliman, 'the Defender of the 
People of the True Faith, the Puissant King of Kings, 
the Great Atabak ' Muzaffara'd-din Abu-Bakr-bin-Sad- 
bin-Zangi, God's shadow on earth (O Goii .' approve 
kim and his desires /) has regarded him with extreme 
condescension and bestowed on him lavish commen- 
dation, and evinced a sincere regard for him. Of a 
verity, from attachment to him, all people, both high 
and low, have become favorably inclined toward me, 
«■«« men aiioft the sentiments of their kings? 

Quatrain. 
Since to my lowliness thou didst with favor turn. 

My track is clearer than the sun's bright beam. 
Though in thy servant all might every fault discern ; 

When kings approve, e'en vices virtues seem. 

Verse. 
in the bath, a piece of perfumed clay 
Came from my loved one's hands to mine, one day. 
" Art thou then musk or ambergris ? " I said ; 

> Ataiali is a Turkish word lignifying " lalber of the prince." II 
was originiillj applied lo a prime minisier irgreai noble ol slaie. It 
■fleiwaid became Ihe tille cf ■ dynasty of Persian kings, originally 
Turkonians, wlui reigned Irom 114S Id 1364 A.D. To Ihe sixlh of 
ihese, Sad-bin-Zangi. Sa'di dedicalea his GuliilaH. He reigned 
Ihilty-five years, and died A.n. 1359. 

*A quotalioa froin ihe Koran, 




!58 Satii. 

"That by ihy scenl my soul is ravished ?" 
" Not so," it answered, " worthless earth was I, 
But long I kept llic rose's company ; 
Thus near, its perfect fragrance to me came, 
Else I'm but earth, the worthless and the same." ' 



Story. 

A king was seated in a vessel with a Persian slave. 
The slave had never before beheld the sea, nor expe- 
rienced the inconvenience of a ship. He began to 
weep and bemoan himself, and a tremor pervaded his 
frame. In spite of their endeavors to soothe him, he 
would not be quieted. The comfort of the king was 
dbturbed by him j but they could not devise a remedy. 
In the ship there was a philosopher, who said, "If you 
command, I will silence him." The king answered. 
" It would be the greatest favor." The philosopher 
directed them to cast the slave into the sea. He 
underwent several submersions, and they then took 
him by the hair and dragged him toward the ship. 
He clung to the rudder of the vessel with both hands, 
and they then pulled him on board again. When he 
had come on board, he seated himself in a comer and 
kept quiet. The king approved, and asked, " What 
was the secret of this expedient ?" The philosopher 
replied, " At first he had not tasted the agony of drown- 

> tty this simile, which In the original is oF eiquisiie beauty. Sa'di 
would eiprcti his own unworthineu. Bud the aiiniBlion Imputed 
to him by the lung's favor. 



Gulistan ; or. Rose Garden. 



261 



subsUtence, and a large family, and I cannot support 
the burden of poverty ; it has frequently entered my 
head that I woiild go lo another country, in order that, 
live how I may, no one may know of my welfare or 
the reverse. 

Couplet. 

Full many a starving wight has slept ' unknown ; 

Full many a spirit tied that none bemoan. 

Again, I am In dread of the rejoicing of ray enemies, 
lest they should laugh scoffingly at me behind my back, 
and impute ray exertions in behalf of my family to a 
want of humanity, and say, 

See now, that wretch devoid of shame 1 for him 
Fair fortune's face will smile not, nor has smiled ; 

Himself he pampers in each selfish whim, 

And leaves his hardships to his wife and child 

"And I know something, as you are aware, of the 
science of accounts; if by your interest a means [of 
subsistence] could be afforded me, which might put 
me at ease, I should not be able to express my grati 
tude sufficiently to the end of my life." 1 rephed, 
"O my friend ! the king's service has two sides to it, 
— hope of a livelihood, and terror for one's life and 
it is contrary to the opinion of the wise, through such 
a hope to expose oneself to such a fear. 
1 Here used (or " died." 




None in the poor man's hut demand 
Tax on his garden or his land. 
Be thou content with toil and woe, 
Or with thy entrails feed the crow. " 

He replied, " These words that thou hast spoken do 
not apply to my case, nor hast thou relumed an answer 
to my question. Hast thou not heard what they have 
said, ' that the hand of every one who chooses to act 
dishonestly trembles in rendering the account'?" 

Couplet. 

God favors those who follow the right way. 
From a straight road I ne'er saw mortal stray. 

" And the sages have said, ' Four kinds of persons are 
in deadly fear of four others : the brigand of the Sul- 
tan, and the thief of the watchman, and the adulterer 
of the informer, and the harlot of the superintendent 
of police i' and what fear have those of the settling, 
whose accounts are clear? " 




Gulistan; or. Rose Garden. 263 

I answered, "Applicable to thy case is the story of 
that fox which people saw running away in violent 
trepidation.' Some one said to him, ' What calamity 
has happened to cause thee so much alarm? ' He re- 
plied, ' 1 have heard they are going to impress the 
camel.' 'I'hey rejoined, ' Shatter-brain ! what con- 
nection has a camel with thee, and what resemblance 
hast thou to it ? ' He answered, ' Peace I for if the 
envious should, to serve their own ends, say, " This is 
a camei," and I should be uken, who would care about 
my release so as to inquire into my condition ? and 
before the antidote is brought from Irak, the person 
who is bitten by Ihe snake may be dead.' - And in the 
same way thou possesses! merit, and good iaith, and 
piety, and uprightness ; but the envious are in ambush, 
and the accusers are lurking in corners. If they 
should misrepresent thy fair qualities, and thou 
shouldst incur the king's displeasure and fall into dis- 
grace, who would have power, in that situation of 
affairs, to speak for thee? I look upon it as thy best 
course to secure the kingdom of contentment, and to 
abandon the idea of preferment, since the wise have 
said, 

Couplet. 
' Upon the sea 'tis true is boundless gain : 
Wouldst thou be safe, upon the shore remain.' " 

> LilErally, " blUng and riling." 

'The Itrjai a an aniidole Bgalnst poison. Some (hinh it it trea- 
cle-, and otben the tKuwr-stone. Tbia sentence is a proverb in 



264 



Sadi. 



Whea ray friend heard Ihese words he was displeased, 
and his countenance was overcast, and he began to 
utter words which bore marks of his vexation, saying, 
"What judgment, and profit, and understanding, and 
knowledge is this ? and the saying of the sages has 
turned out correct, in that they have said, ' Those arc 
useful friends who continue so when we are in prison ; 
for at our table all our enemies appear Iriends.' 

S/ansa. 

Think not thy Mend one who in fortune's hour 
Boasts of his friendship and fraternity. 

Him I call friend who sums up all his power 
To aid thee in distress and misery." 

I saw that he was troubled, and that my advice was 
taken in bad part. I went to the president of finance, 
and, in accordance with our former intimacy, I told 
him the case ; in consequence of which he appointed 
my friend to some trifling office. Some time passed 
away ; they saw the amenity of his disposition, and 
approved his excellent judgment. His affairs pros- 
pered, and he was appointed to a superior post ; and 
in the same manner the star of his prosperity con- 
' tinned to ascend until he reached the summit of his 
desires, and became a confidential servant of his 
Majesty the ^vXXia, and tli^ poinleii-at by men's fingers, 
and one in whom the ministers of Stale placed Ikeir 
confidence. I rejoiced at his secure position and said, 



^^D 



1 


Gulistan ; or. Rose Garden. 26S 






Couplet. 






" Have no doubts because of trouble nor be thou dis- 
comfited ; 

For the water of life's fountain' springeth from & 
gloomy bed. 






Cau/i/e/. 




m 




"Ah! ye brothers of misfortune.' be not ye with grief 
oppressed. 

Many are the secret merries which with the All- 
bounteous rest. 




J 




Couplet. 




^1 




"Sit not sad because that Time a fitful aspect wcareth ; 
Patience is most bitter, yet Inost sweet the fruit it 
beareth." 




^ 


■ 


During this interval I happened to accompany a num- 
ber of my friends on a journey to Hijaz.* When I re- 
turned from the pilgrimage to Mecca he came out two 
stages to meet me. I saw that his outward appear- 
ance was one of distress, and that he wore the garb 
of a denish. I said, "What is thy condition?" He 
replied, "Just as thou said'st ; a party became envious 
of me, and accused me of disloyal conduct ; and the 




1 


1 


' Mohatntnedana believe in a fountain ol lift, to tasle one drop of 
which bestows immortnlilj-. They say thai Khiir. or Elias. who, they 
•nppoM.wu the gesenl of the Gnl Alexander, discovered this (bun- 
tain, and dranlt of ll, and bence he can never die. 

* Arabia Petrsea. 




J 


■ 








d 



Gulislan; or. Rose Gar Jen. 267 

S/aaM. 
" Knewest thon not that thou wouldsi see (he i-haiiis 

upon thy feet, 
When a deaf ear thou turnedst on the counsels of the 

If the torture of the sting thou canst not with courage 

meet, 
Place not thy linger in the hole where the sullen 

scorpion lies." 



Story. 

A person had reached perfection in the art of 
wrestling. He knew three hundred and sixty precious 
sleights in this art, and every day he wrestled with a 
different device. However, his heart was inclined 
toward the beauty of one of his pupils. He taught 
him three hundred and fifty-nine throws, all he knew 
save one, the teaching of which he deferred. The 
youth was perfect in skill and strength, and no one 
could withstand him, till he at length boasted before 
the Sultan that he allowed the superiority of his master 
over him only out of respect to his year^, and what was 
due to him as an instructor, and that but for that he 

I not inferior in strength, and on a par with him in 
The king was displeased at his breach of respect, 

P be commanded them to wrestle. A vast arena was 

The great nobles and ministers of the king 

fcded. The youth entered, like a furious elephant, 



268 



S.iJi. 



with a shock that had his adversary been a mountain of 
iron would have uptom it from its base. The master 
perceived that the young man was his superior in 
strength. He ^tened on him with that airious grip 
which he had kept concealed frotn him. The youth 
knew not how to foil it. The preceptor lifted him 
with both hands from the ground, and raised him ahove 
his head, and dashed him on the ground. A shout of 
applause arose from the multitude. The king com- 
manded them to bestow a robe of honor and reward 
on the master, and heaped reproaches on the youth, 
saying, " Thou hast presumed to encounter him who 
educated thee, and thou hast failed." He replied, 
" Sire ! my master overcame me, not by strength or 
power, but a small point was left in the art of wrest- 
ling which he withheld from me ; and by this trifle he 
has to-day gotten the victory over me," The pre- 
ceptor said, " 1 reserved it for such a day as this j for 
the sages have said, ' Give not thy friend so much 
power that if one day he should become a foe, thou 
mayst not be able to resist him.' Hast thou not heard 
what once was said by one who had suffered wrong 
from a pupil of his own? 



S/atisa. 

• On earth there is no gratitude, I trow ; 

Or none, perhaps, to use it now pretend. 
None learn of me the science of the bow. 

Who make rae not their target in the end." ' 



me up at the icsuircction blind, that I mfLy not be 
aahamed in the sight of the righteous." 

Humbly in dust I bow each day 
My (ace, with wakening memory, 

O Thou ! whom I forget not, say, 
Dost thou bethink Thee e'er of me? 

Storv. 
A thief entered the house of a recluse. However 
much be searched, he found nothing. He turned 
back sadly and in despair, and was observed by the 
holy man, who cast the blanket on which he slept in 
the way of the thief, that he might not be disap- 
pointed. 

Sfanza. 
The men of God's true faith, I've heard, 

Grieve not the hearts e'en of iheir foes. 
When will this station be conferred 
On thee who dost thy friends oppose? 

The friendship of the pure-minded, whether in pres- 
ence or absence, is not such that ihey will find fault 
with thee behind thy back, and die for thee in thy 
presence. 

Couplet. 
Before thee like the lamb they gentle are : 
Absent, than savi^ wolves more ruthless far. 



q 


^^g 








I 


Oulistan; or. Rose Garden. 271 






Coupie/. 








They who the faults of others bring to you, 
fie sure they'll bear to others your faults too. 




1 




SroKY. 




■ 


I 


Certain travellers had agreed to journey together, 
and to share their pains and pleasures. I wished to 
join them. They withheld their consent. I said, 
" It is Inconsistent with the benevolent habits of the 
eminent to avert the countenance from the society of 
the lowly, and to decline to be of service to them ; 
and I feel in myself such power of exertion and 
energy that in the service of men 1 should be an 
active friend, not a weight on their minds. 




J 




Couplet. 








Whattkougk I'm dome^ not in Ike camel throng, 
Yet ivill I strive to bear your loads along." 




J 




One of them said, " Let not thy heart be grieved at 
the answer thou hast received, for within the last few 
days a thief came in the gube of a dervish, and 




l 




Couplet. 








What know men of the wearer, though they know the 

dress full well 7 
The letter-writer only can the letter's purport tell. 




J 




1 Tbere ii an altnopl here at a pun. ^S 


'4 




: 


i 


i 



Gulistan ; or. Rose Garden. 



275 



Ai soon as he had got out of sight of the dervishes 
be scaled a bastion, and stole a casket. Before the 
day dawned, that dark-hearted one had got to a con- 
siderable distance, and his innocent companions were 
still asleep. In the morning they carried them all to 
the fortress and imprisoned them. From that day we 
have abjured society, and kept (o the path of retire- 
I meet, for, in solitude there is safety." 

Stanza. 
When but one member of a tribe has done 

A foolish act, all bear alike disgrace, 
Seest thou how in the mead one ox alone 
Will lead astray the whole herd of a place ? 
I said, "1 thank God (may He be honored and 
glorified !) that I have not remained excluded from 
the beneficial influences of the dervishes, although I 
have been deprived of their society, and I have de- 
rived profit from this story, and this advice will be 
useftil to sach as I am through the whole of life." 

Disliihs. 
Be there but one rough person in their train, 
For his misdeeds the wise will suffer pain. 
Should you a cistern with rose-water fill, 
A dog dropped in it would defile it still. 



A religious recluse became the guest of a king. 
When they sate down to their meals, he ate less than 



Gulistan ; or. Rose Garden. 

sat up in attendance on my father, and did not close 
my eyes the whole night, and held the precious Koran 
in my lap while the people around me slept. I said 
to my father, " Not one of these lifts up his head to 
perform a prayer.' They are so profoundly asleep 
that yoii would say they were dead." He replied, 
" Life of thy father ! it were better if thou, too, wert 
asleep J rather than thou shouldst be backbiting peo- 
ple." 

S/ansa. 
Naught but themselves can vain pretenders mark, 

For conceit's curtain intercepts their view. 
Did God illume that which in them is dark, 

Naught than themselves would wear a darker hue. 



Story. 

In a certain assembly they were extolling a person 
of eminence, and going to an extreme in praising his 
excellent qualities. He raised his head, and said, " I 
am that which I know myself to be." 



Coup/e/. 

Thou who weuldif sum my virtues up, enough Ik&u'U 

find 
In outward semblance ; to my secret failings blind. 



Guiistan; or, Rose Garden. 277 

While ever roams from place to place thy heart. 
No peacefulness in solitude thou'lt see ; 

Hast thou estates, wealth, rank, the trader's raait? 
Be thy heart God's — this soUtude may be. 

Storv. 

A king had reached the close of his hfe, and had no 
heir to succeed him. He made a will, that they should 
place the royal crown on the head of the first person 
who might enler the gates of the city in the morning, 
and should confide the government to him. It 
happened that the first person who entered the city 
gate was a beggar, who throughout his whole life had 
collected scrap after scrap, and sewn rag upon rag. 
The Pillars of the State, and ministers of the late king, 
executed his will, and bestowed on him the countiy 
and the treasure. The dervish carried on the govern- 
ment for a time, when some of the great nobles turned 
their necks from obeying him, and the princes of the • 
surrounding countries rose up on every side to oppose 
him, and arrayed their armies against him. In short, 
his troops and his subjects were thrown into confusion, 
and a portion of his territory departed from his posses- 
sion. The dervish was in a state of dejection at this 
circumstance, when one of bis old friends, who was 
intimate with him in the time of his poverty, returned 
from a journey, and, finding him in this exalted posi- 



■1 


w 


^ 






1 


1 


Gulistan; or. Rose Garden. 281 




Story. 


1 


■ 




One of the Syrian recluses had for years worshipped 


9 






in the desert, and sustained life by feeding on the 


H| 


^^H 




leaves of trees. The king of that region made a pil- 


n 


■ 




grimage to visit him, and said, " If thou thinkest fit, I 


m 


■ 




will prepare a place for thee in the city that thou 


M 


■ 




mayest have greater conveniences for devotion than 


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here, and that others may be benefited by the blessing 


'nl 


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of thy prayers, and may imitate thy virtuous acts." 


m 


■ 




The devotee did not assent to these words. The 


n 






nobles said, " To oblige the king, the proper course is 


m 


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for thee to come into the city for a few days and learn 


M 






the nature of the place ; after which, if the serenity of 


M 


^^1 




thy precious time suffers disturbance from the society of 


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^^1 




others, thou wilt be siill free to choose." They relate 


m 


^^1 




that the devotee entered the city, and that they pre- 


M 


^^1 




pared for him the garden of the king's own palace, a 


Ui 


^^1 




place delightsome to the mind, and suited to tranquillize 


m 


^H 


^m 


the spirit. 


i 


^H 


1 


Disti(hs. 


11 


^1 




Like beauty's cheek, bright shone its roses red ; 


11 


^H 




1 Its hyacinths — like fair ones' ringlets spread — 


ml 


^^1 




Seemed babes, which from their mother milk ne'er 


JbI 


^^1 


^^^ 


drew, 


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^^^H 


^K 


In winter's cold so shrinkingly they grew. Nl 


r^H 


^H^_ Hf^^^^^H 


^^^^^Hhuf thf dranehes — on them grew pomegranaU-fiowers ^ 


^^H 


■ 


^^K/kfire, suspended there, mid verdant bowers. 


1 


i 


r 


f """' 



Gtdistan ; or. Rose Garden. 28} 

In short, the bliss of his tranquil state began to 
decline ; as they have said, 

Slania. 

"All that exist — disciples, doctors, saints, 

The pure and eloquent alike, all fail 
When once this world's base gear their minds attaints. 

As flies their legs in honey vainly trail." 

At length the king felt a desire to visit him. He 
found the recluse altered in appearance from what he 
was before, with a florid complexion, and waxen fat, 
pillowed on a cushion of brocade, and the lairy-faced 
slave standing at his head, with a fan of peacock's 
feathers. The monarch was pleased at his felicitous 
state, and the conversation turned on a variety of sub- 
jects, till, at the close of it, the king said, " Of all the 
people in the world, I value these two sorts most — the 
learned and the devout." A philosophical and expen 
enccd vazir was present. He said, " O king ! fncnd 
ship requires that thou shouldst do good to both these 
two orders of men — to the wise give gold, that they 
may study the more ; and to the devout give nothmg, 
that they may remain devout," 



Couplet 



To the devout, nor pence nor gold divide ; 
If one receive it, seek another guide. 



Sfania. 
Kind manners, and a heart on God bestowed 

Make up the saint, without alms begged or bread 
That piety bequeathes. What though no load 

Of turquoise- rings on Beauty's fingers shed 
Their ray, nor from her eat the shimmering gera 
Depends ; 'tis Beauty still, and needs not them. 

S/anza. 

O gentle dervish ! blest with mind serene. 
Thou hast no need of alms or hermit's fare. 

Lady of beauteous face and graceful mien ! 
Thou well the turquoise -ring and gauds canst spare. 

Cou/'/ei. 

Seek I for goods which not to me belong ; 
Then if men call me worldly they're not wrong. 

Story. 

In conformity with the preceding story, an affair of 
importance occurred to the king. He said, " If the 
termination of this matter be in accordance with my 
wishes, I will distribute so many dirams to holy men." 
When his desire was accomplished, it became incum- 
bent on him to fulfil his vow according to the condi- 
tions. He gave a bag of dirams to one of his favorite 
seivaDts, and told him to distribute them among 
devont penonages. They say that the servant was 



Gulislan ; or. Rose Garden. 28! 

shrewd and intelligent. He went about ihe whole 
day, and returned at night, and, kissing the dirams, 
laid them before the king, saying, " However rouch I 
searched for Ihe holy men, I could not find them." 
The king replied, "What talc is this? I know that 
in this city there are four hundred saints." He an- 
swered, " O Lord of the earth ! the devout accept 
them not, and he who accepts them is not devout," 
The king laughed and said to his courtiers, " Strong 
as my good intentions are toward this body of godly 
tnen, and much as I wish to express my favor toward 
them, I am thwarted by a proportionate enmity and 
rejection of them on the part of this saucy fellow, and 
he has reason on his side." 

When holy men accept of coin from thee. 
Leave them, and seek some better devotee. 

Story. 
They asked a profoundly learned man his opinion 
as to pious bequests. He said, "If the allowance is 
received in order to tranquillize the mind, and obtain 
more leisure for devotion, it is lawful ; but when peo- 
ple congregate for the sake of the endowment, it is 
unlawiiil." 

Cui/fi/et, 
For sacred leisure saints receive their bread, 
Not to gain food that ease is furnished. 



^ 


F ^ 


n 








^ 


Gulistan ; or. Rose Garden. 289 




to thee in military pomp, but enjoy more pleasure and 








are equal with thee in death, and superior to thee m 








the day of resurrection. 








Distiehi. 








The conqueror may in every wish succeed ; 








Of bread the dervish daily stands in need ; 








But in that hour when both return to clay, 








Naught but their winding-sheei they lake away 








When man makes up his load this realm to leave. 








The beggar finds less cause than kings to grieve 






The outward mark of a dervish is a patched garment 






and shaven head; but his essentia! qualities are a liv 




M 




ing heart and mortified passions. 




■ 




Statisa. 




■ 




Not at strife's door sits he ; when thwarted, nc cr 




■ 




Starts up to contest ; all unmoved his soul 




^ 




He is no saint who from the path would stir 








Though a huge stone should from a mountain roll 








The dervish's course of life is spent in commemorating 








and thanking, and serving, and obeying God and in 








beneficence and contentment ; and in the acknowledg 








mem of one God and in reliance on Him; and m 








resignation and patience. Every one who is endued 








with these qualities is, in fact, a dervish, though 








dressed in a tunic. But a babbler, who neglects 








prayer, and is given to sensuality, and the gratification 




^ 


J 






i 



1 


! ' 


■ 


Guliifaii ; or. Rose Garden. 291 

I'll in His favoring mercy trust. 














No stock uf worth is mine, 








Nor fund of worship, yet He will 








A means of help divine ; 








When aid is past. He'll save me still. 








Those who have power to free, 








I^t their old slaves in freedom live. 








Thou Glorious Majesty ! 








Me, too, Thy ancient slave, forgive. 








Sa'di ! move thou to resignation's shrine. 








man of God ! the path of God be thine 








Hapless is he who from this haven turns, 








All doors shall spurn him who this portal spurns 








Srofiv. 








I never complained of the vicissitudes of fortune 








nor suffered my face to be overcast at the revolution 








of the heavens, except once, when my feet were bare 








and I had not the means of obtaining shoes. I came 








to the chief mosque of Kufah in a state of much dejec 






tion, and saw there a man who had no feet. I returned 






thanks to God and acknowledged his mercies, and 








endured my want of shoes with patience, and exclaimed. 








Stan$a. 








" Roftst fowl to him that's sated will seem less 








Upon the board than leaves of garden cress 








While, in the sight of helpless poverty. 






Boiled turnip will a roasted pullet be." 










jsgsiSaiaMai|Miig^^g^^ 


i 


^^^_ 


J 



Story. 

A merchant met with the loss of a thousand dinars, 
snd said to his son, " Thou must not tell any one of this 
matter." The son replied, " O father ! it is thy com- 
mand ; I will not tell ; acquaint me, however, with the 
advantage to be derived from keeping the affair secret." 
The father answered, " In order that we may not have 
two misfortunes to encounter — first, the loss of our 
money ; and secondly, the malignant rejoicings of our 
neighbors." 

CeufUt. 

Do not to foes thy sufferings impart, 

Lest, while they seem to grieve, they joy at heart.' 

Story. 
An intelligent young man, who possessed an ample 
stock of admirable accom])lishments and a rare intel- 
lect, notwithstanding, uttered not a word whenever he 
was seated in the company of the wise. At length, his 
father said, " O son ! why dost not thou also say some- 
what of that thou knowest?" He repUed, "I fear 
lest they should ask me something of which I am igno- 
rant, and I should bring on myself disgrace." 

Stanza. 
One day a Sufi (hast thou heard it told 7) 

By chance was hammering nails into his shoe ; 



t 


4 


r^ 






Gulistan ; or. Rose Garden. 29) [g 






Then of his sleeve an officer caught hold. 

And said, " Come ihou ! and shoe my chaigcr too ! " 








Couplet. 








Art silent? none can meddle with thee. When 
Thou once hast spoken, thou must prove it then. 








Story. H 






A man with a harsh voice was reading the Koran in 
a loud tone. A sage passed by and asked, " \Vhat is 
thy monthly stipend?" He replied, "Nothing" 
" Wherefore, then," asked the sage, "dost thou give 
thyself this Irouble?" He replied, "I read for the 
sake of God." "Then," said the sage, "for God's 
sake ! read not." 








Coupltt. 








If in this fashion the Koran you read. 
You'll mar the loveliness of Islam's creed. 








Stobv. 








They asked Hasan Maimandi, " How is it that, 
although Sultan Mahmud has so many handsome 
slaves, every one of whom is the wonder of the world, 
and the marvel of the age, he has not such a regard 
or affection for any one as for Ayaz, who is not 
remarkable for beauty?" He replied, 'MVhatever 
pleases the heart appears fair to the eye." 






^^ J 


.^k. ^ 



296 



Sa'di. 



A pious man, mid dance and song, was seated with 

the gay ; 
One of Batkb's beauties saw him there, and mailced the 

mirth decay : 
" Do we, then, weary thee ? " he said, " at least, un- 

cloud thy brow ; 
For we, loo, feel thy presence here is bitlemess enow. 



This social band like roses is and lilies joined in one, 
And mid them thou, a withered stick, upspringest all 

alone; 
Like winter's cruel cold art thou, or like an adverse 

blast, — 
Thou sittest there like fallen snow, ice-bound and 

frozen fast." 

Story. 

A man had a beautiful wife, who died, and his wife's 
mother, a decrepit old woman, on account of the mar- 
riage- settle men I,' took up her abode, and fixed herself 
in his house. The man was vexed to death by her 
propinquity, yet he did not see how to get rid of her 
by reason of the settlement. Some of his friends came 
to inquire after him, and one of them said, " How dost 

1 As he could nol pay what he had covcnanl^ to pay. when he 
irried, hU wife's retalions indemnitee] Ihemseives by saddling him 
b Ibe old lady, hit wife's mother. 



^m_ 



?i 



Gulistan ; or. Rose Garden. 297 

thou bear the loss of thy beloved one ? " He replied 

"The not seeing my wife is not so intolerable to me 
as the seeing her mother." 

Disli-rhs. 

The tree has lost its roses, but retains 

Its thorn. The treasure's gone, the snake ' remains 

'Tis better on the lance-point fixed lo see 

One's eye, than to behold an enemy. 

'Tis well a thousand friendships to erase 

Could we thereby avoid our foeman's face. 

Storv. 

I remember that in my youth 1 was passing along a 
street when I beheld a moon-faced beauty. The sea 
son was that of the month of July, when the fierce heal 
dried up the moisture of the mouth, and the scorching 
wind consumed the marrow of the bones. 1 hrough 
the weakness of human nature I was unable to support 
the power of the sun, and involuntarily took shelter 
under the shade of a wall, waiting to see if any one 
would relieve me from the pain I suffered, owing lo 
the ardor of the sun's rays, and cool my Hame wilh 
water. AH of a sudden, from the dark portico of a 
house, I beheld a bright form appear, of such beauty 
thai the tongue of eloquence would fail in narrating 



lit li ■ popular Orienial n 



e guarded by 



298 



^■di. 



her charms. She came forth as mom succeeding a 
dark night, or as the waters of life issuing from ihe 
gloom. She held in her hand a cup of snow-water, in 
which she had mixed sugar and the juice of the grape. 
I know not whether she had perfumed it with her own 
roses, or distilled into it some drops from the bioom of 
her countenance. In short, I took the cup from her 
fair hand, and drained its contents, and received new 
life. " T^ thirst of my heart eannot be slaked with a 
drop of water, nor if I should drink riivrs would it be 
lessened." 

Stanza. 

Most blest that happy one whose gaze intense 
Rests on such face at each successive mom ; 

The drunk with wine at midnight may his sense 
Regain ; but not till the last day shall dawn 
Will love's intoxication reach its bourne. 



Srcntr. 

They told to one of the Arabian kings the story of 
Laili and Majnun, and of the insanity winch happened 
to him, so that, although possessed of high qualities 
and perfect eloquence, he betook himself to the desert 
xnd abandoned the reins of choice. After command- 
ing them to bring him into his presence, the king 
began to rebuke him, saying, " What defect hast thou 
n in the nobleness of man's nature that thou hast 



^p 



Gulistan ; or. Rose Garden. 299 

Uken up the habits of an animal, and bidden adieu to 
the happiness of human society?" Majnun wept and 
said, 



" O/i have my friends reproached me for my love .' 
The day will come they'll see her and apprtn'e. 

Stanza. 
Would that those who seek to blame me 

Could thy face, O fairest 1 see ; 
Theirs would then the loss and shame be : 

While amazed, intent on thee, 
They would wound their hands while they 
Careless with the orange ' play : 

That the truth of the reality might testify to the appear 
ance I claim for her ! " The king was inspired with a 
desire to behold her beauty, in order to know what 
sort of person it was who was the cause of such mis 
chief. He commanded, and they sought for her, and 
searching through the Arab families, found her, and 
brought her before ihe king, in the court of the royal 
pavilion. The king surveyed her countenance, and 
beheld a person of a dark complexion and weak form 
She appeared to him so contemptible that he thought 
the meanest of the servants of his harem superior lo 
her in beauty and grace, Majnun acutely disceme 1 

> Sec poem, Ymsn/aiii ZnlaHMa, page 504. 




Guiislan; or. Rose Garden. 

He gave thee sout and reason, wisdom, Icen, 
Beauty and speech, reflection, judgment, sense ; 

He on thy hand arrayed thy fingers ten. 
And thy arras fastened to thy shoulders. Whence 

Canst thou then think, O thou roost weak of men I 
He'd be unmindful of thy subsistence? 



I 



Story. 

I saw the son of a rich man seated at the head of 
his father's sepulchre, and engaged in a dispute with 
the son of a poor man, and saying, " My father's sar- 
cophagus is of stone, and the inscription colored with 
a pavement of alabaster and turquoise bricks. What 
resemblance has it to that of thy father? which con- 
sists of a brick or two huddled together, with a few 
handfuls of dust sprinkled over it." The son of the 
poor man heard him, and answered, " Peace ! for 
before thy father can have moved himself under this 
heavy stone, my sire will have arrived in paradise. 
This is a saying of the Prophet ; * 7»<r dealA ef the 
poor is repos€.' 

Coupltt. 
Ooubtless the ass, on which they do impose 
The lightest burthen, also easiest goes. 

Stanta. 
The poor man, who the agony has borne 
Of famine's pangs, treads lightly to the door 



■ 



Gulistan ; or. Rose Garden. 

A quadruped, with voluraes laden, is 
No whit the wiser or more sage for this : 
How can the witless animal discern, 
If books be piled on it? or wood to burn? 



Science is for the cultivation of religion, not for 
worldly enjoyments. 

Couplet. 
Who makes a gain of virtue, science, tore. 
Is one who garners up, then burns his store. 



Three things lack permanency, uncombined with 
three other things: wealth without trading; learning 
without instruction ; and empire without a strict ad- 
ministration of justice. 

Slanza. 

By courteous speech, politeness, gentleness, 
Sometimes thou mayest direct the human will : 

Anon by threats ; for it oft profits less 
With sugar twice a hundred cups to fill, 
Than from one colocynth its bitters to distil. 



To show pity to the bad is to oppress the good, and 
to pardon oppressors is to tyrannize over the oppressed. 




No reliance can be placed on the friendship of 
princes, nor must we plume ourselves on the sweet 
voices of children, since that is changed by a caprice, 
and these by a single slumber. 

Cnuplet. 
On the mistress of a thousand hearts, do not thy love 

bestow ; 
But if thou wilt, prepare eftsoons her friendship to 

forego. 

Reveal not to a friend every secret that thou pos- 
sessest. How knowest thou whether at some time he 
may not become an enemy ? Nor inflict on thy enemy 
every injury that is in thy power ; perchance he 
may some day become thy friend. Tell not the 
secret that thou wouldst have continue hidden to any 
person, although he may be worthy of confidence ; for 
no one will be so careful of thy secret as thyself. 




^ 


' 1 


P 










3 10 Sa'di. 






MAXIM. 








Do not acquaint a Icing with the (reason of any one 
unless when thou art assured that the disclosure will 








meet with his full approval, else thou art but laboring 
for thy own destruction. 








Coupiei. 








Then, only then, to speak intend 
When spealdng can effect thy end. 








He who gives advice to a conceited man is himself 








in need of counsel. 




■ 




Be not caught by the artifice of a foe, nor purchase 
pride of a flatterer ; for the one has set the snare of 




■ 




hypocrisy, and the other has opened the mouth of 
greediness. The fool is puffed up with flattery, like a 
corpse whose inflated heels appear plump. 








Stama. 


^ 






Heed not the flatterer's fulsome talk. 


■ 


K 




He from thee hopes some trifle to obtain ; 
Thou wilt, shonldst thou his wishes balk. 


^ 


1 




Two hundred times as much of censure g^n. 






L 


c 







^ 




?\ 11 E 5j.il. 






m Couplet. 
11 Ill-sUired, indeed, is he who injures men : 
If Is fortune advene, he is friendless then. 










•1 UAXDI. 

1 Aflain succeed by patience ; and he that is hasty 

1 uneth headlong. 

J Disticks. 










|[ I've in the desert with these eyes beheld 

2[ The hurrying pilgrim to the slow-stepped yield ; 

1 The rapid courser in the rear remains, 

3[ While the slow camel still its step mainUins. 






ii| There is no better ornament for the ignorant than 
3 b ence, and did he but know this be would not be 
91 J lorant. 

SF Hast thou not perfect excellence, 'tis best 
1^1 To keep thy tongue in silence, for 'tis this 
'1 Which shames a man ; as lightness does attest 
ilj The nut is empty, nor of value is. 






















Ml Once, in these words, a fool rebuked an ass, — 
jjj " Go, thou who aU thy life hast lived in vain t " 






to 


gjjikm ji^ijmii.iF' 1 "^'M ^''iHi I'lHHUTimaijwwwiHej 


c 




^^_ 


._ 




^^^^^^L ^^H 



^ 



:% 



Gulislan ; or. Rose Garden. 31 

A sage said to him, " Blockhead I why dost pass 
Thy time in this? Gibes will be all thy gain. 

To learn of thee a bmte do power has ; 

Learn thou of brutes in silence to remain." 



MAXIM. 

Whoso sits with bad men will not sec aught good. 
DisaUs. 
With demons did an angel take his seat, 
He'd learn but terror, treason, and deceit : 
Thou from the bad wilt nothing learn but ill ; 
The wolf will ne'er the furrier's office fill. 



Divulge not the secret faults of men ; for at the 
same time that thou disgracesi them thou wilt destroy 
thy own credit. 



He that has acquired learning and not practised 
what he has learnt, is like a man who ploughs but 
sows no seed. 



Worship cannot be performed by the body without 
the mind, and a shell without « kernel will not do for 
merchandise. 



I 



Gulistan ; or, Rose Garden. 



It is not right for a learned man to pass over leniently 
the foolish impertinences of the vulgar, for this is del 
rimental to both parties : the awe which the former 
ought to inspire is diminished, and the folly of the latter 

augmented. 

Couplet. 
Alt Ihou with fools too courteous and too free, 
Their pride and folly will augmented be. 



People forget the name of him whose bread they 
have not tasted during his lifetime. Joseph the just 
(Peace be on him!), during the famine in Egypt, 
would not eat so as to satisfy his appetite, that he 
might not forget the hungry. It is the poor widow 
that relishes the grapes, not the owner of the vine 
yard.' 

Coupie/s. 
He who in pleasure and abundance lives, 
What knows he of the pang that hunger gives? 
He can affliction best appreciate, 
Who has himself experienced the same state 

c deprived u[ Ihem 



4 

*> 


i 




1 


320 Sa\ii. 






1 


Stanza. 








O thou ! who rid'st a. mettled courser, see 

How toils, mid mire, the poor thom-loaded ass ! 

From poor men's houses, let no fire for thee 
Be brought. The wreaths which from their chimney 
pass 

Are sighs wrung from their hearts by destiny.' 






i 


MAXIM. 






1 


Two things arc impossible : to obtain more food 
than what Providence destines for us ; and to die before 
the time known to God. 






i 


Slanza. 


■ 




1 


Fate is not altered by a thousand sighs ; 

Complain or render thanks — -arrive it will : 
The angel at whose bidding winds arise 

Cares little for the widow's lamp, if still 
It burns, or by the storm extinguished dies. 


n 




i 


MAXIM. 






1 


is the foe of the innocent. 


1 




1 


Seansa. 


■ 




1 


A wretched crack-brained fellow once I saw, 
Who slandered one of lofty dignity ; 


1 




1 


1 Th»t il.do noi wring from the poor the smtllesf trifle. Thecom- 
pariiOQ Iwtween tmokt and a ligh is a simile in which Oriental! 
delight, inept as it appears to us. 


1 


M 






m ^ 


^^^ 


i 



Gulistan ; or. Rose Carden. 32I 

I said, " Good sir ! I grant thee that a flaw 
May in thy fortunes be observed, — bui why 
Impute it to the man who lives more happily?" 

Second Stanza. 
Oh ! on the envious man invoke no curse. 

For of himself, poor wretch ! accursed is he , 
On him no hatred can inflict aught worse 

Than his self-fed, self- tor luring enmity. 



A student without the inclination to learn is a lover 
without money ; and a pilgrim without spirituality is a 
bird without wings ; and a devotee without learning is 
a house without a door. 



n 



■ 


^^|_ 




^ 


Bustan. 32 s 






Since in its own eyes the drop humble appeared 








In its bosom, a shell with its life the drop reared 








The sky brought the work with success to a close 








And a famed royal pearl from the rain-drop arose 








Because it was humble it excellence gained ; 








Patiently wailing lill success was obtained. 








The Death of Sa'di's Son. 






^ 


At Sana' a young child of mine melted away 








Of all that occurred to me, what shall I say? 






■ 


A Joseph-like picture the Fates never gave. 




1 




But was, Jonah-like, gulped by the fish of the grave 




^ 




In this garden, a cypress ne'er reached any height 




■ 




But the tempests of fate pulled its roots from their site 




■ 




No wonder that roses will blow on the ground 




■ 




When, beneath it, so many rose-bodies sleep souni ' 




■ 




To my heart, I said, " Die, thou disgrace to mankmd 1 




■ 


^m 


The child go;s off pure, the old man, vile in mmd ' 




^ 


■ 


Out of love and distress, for his stature alone 






■ 


From his tomb I extracted a panel of stone. 






■ 


On account of my dread, in that dark, narrow place 






■ 


My disconsolate slate changed the hue of my face 






■ 


When I came to myself, fiom thai horrible fear 






■ 


From my darling, loved child, this arrived at my car 






■ 


" If this region of darkness produced in you fright 






^ 


Take care, when you enter, to carry a light ! " 








If you wish that the nighl of the tomb should appear 








1 San*. Ihe capilal ol Arabia Felix, where Sa^di'a second mnrr ag 






J 


occuned. 








s. 


i 




I 



Bright as day, light the lamp of your actions while here ! 
Shakes the husbandman's body, from fever and care, 
Peradventure the palms should not luscious dales bear. 
Some covetous men the opinion maintain, 
That, without sowing wheat, they'll a harvest obtain ! 
He who planted the root, Sa'di, on the fruit feeds ! 
He will gather the harvest, who scattered the seeds ! 

Patience and Contentment. 

In a generous man's spirit perfection is bred ; 

If no money he owns, what's the harm or the dread? 

Were a miser with Croesus in riches to range. 

Ho not think that his miserly spirit would change ! 

If a liberal i>erson obtains not his bread. 

His spirit is rich, just as if he were fed. 

The giving's the ground and the means, the sown field ; 

Heslow ! that the root fertile branches may yield, 

I would wonder where God, who makes man out of 

clay, 
To make his humanity vanish away, 
In holding up wealth, do not strive to excel I 
For water when stagnant emits a bad smell. 
In munificence labor ! for water that flows. 
By the favor of Heaven to a mighty flood grows ! 
If a miser should fall from his wealth and estate, 
Very rarely again will his riches be great. 
If you arc a jewel of worth, do not fret I 
For time will not cause your existence to set, 
A clod may be lying exposed on the way ; 



Ct3 



'A ' '^ 


^ 


m 




ta^M<M«4iWg*rfM.-g<rt8a«a^I*»JHefrksgaW^ 




^ 




Busian. 327 




Yet 1 do not see any one heed to it pay. 








If a clipping of gold should escape from the shears, 








With a candle they search for il, till it appears 








From the heart of a stone they can crystal obtain 








Where under the rust does a mirror remain? 








The manners must please and exhibit much grace. 








For coming and going are Fortune and Place 








The Sun and the Slanderer. 








Said a man to a Sufi, with sanctity blest. 








" You know not what some one behind you expressed ' 






^^^ 


He said, " Silence ! brother ! and sleep it away 1 






■ 


It is best not to know what your enemies say 1 






■ 


Those people who carry the words of a foe, 






■ 


Than enemies, truly, more enmity show. 






■ 


The remarks of a foe, to a friend no one bear% 






■ 


Excepting the man who his enmity shares. 






■ 


A foe cannot speak with such hardiness to me, 






■ 


That from hearing, my body should shivering be ' 






■ 


You are worse than a foe ! with your lips you unfold 






■ 


The same that the foe to you privately told ! ' 






■ 


A talebearer gives to old war a fresh life, 






■ 


And urges a good, gentle person to strife. 






■ 


Fly away from that comrade, while strength in you lies ' 








Who says unto sleeping sedition, " Arise 1 " 








A man in a pit, with his feet firmly bound, 








Is better than spreading disturbance around. 








Between two, an encounter resembles a fire. 








And the ill-omened tell-tales the fuel supplier 




^ 




1 






^^^^^^^^^^^^^^B 




_^ ^^^^^^^^^^B 



528 



Sympathy for Orphans. 



A shade o'er the head of the orphaa boy put ! 
Disperse all his sighs and his sorrows uproot ! 
Vou know not why he has this helplessness seen ! 
Does a tree without root ever show itself green ? 
When you see the sad head of an orphan bent low, 
On the face of your son, do not kisses bestow 1 
If an orphan should weep, who will purchase relief? 
And should he be vexed, who will share in his grief? 
Take care ! lest he weeps, for the great throne on high 
Will tremble and shake, should an orphan child cry ! 
By kindness, the tears from his pure eyes displace ! 
By compassion, disperse all the dust from his face ! 
If his own sheltering shadow has gone from his head, 
Take him under your own fostering shadow instead ! 
I at that time the head of a monarch possessed, 
When I let it recline on my own father's breast ; 
If a fly on my body made bold to alight, 
The hearts of a number were grieved at the sight. 
If now to a dungeon they captive me bear. 
Not one of my friends to assist me would care. 
The sufferings of poor orphan children I know ; 
In my childhood, my father to God had to go. 

Dealing ktth Enemies. 
Until your diplomacy terminates right, 
It is better to flatter your foe, than to fight. 
When, by force, you're unable to vanquish your foes, 
By favors, the portal of strife you must close ! 



aa 



Buslan. 



329 



If you fear lest you be by an enemy stung, 
With the charm of munificence, tie up his tongue ' 
Give your enemy money ? — not Ihoms from a hedge ! 
For munificence blunts all the teeth that have edge 
Hy skill, you can coax and enjoy earthly bliss , 
The hnnd you can't bite, it is proper to kiss ! 
Ky management, Rustem will come to the noose. 
From whose coil, Asfandyar ' could not cast himself 

loose. 
You can find the occasion your foe's skin to rend , 
Take care of him ! then, as you would of a friend 
Be cautious in fighting with one you despise ! 
From a drop, I have oft seen a torrent arise. 
While you can, let not knots on your eyebrows be 



An opponent is best as a friend, although mean 
His foe shows delight, and his friend shows distress, 
Whose friends are, in count, than his enemies leas 
With an army exceeding your own, do not fight ' 
For you can't with your finger a lancet's point smite 
And should you be stronger in war than your foe. 
To the weak, 'tis unmanly oppression to show ' 
Though you've lion-like hands and an elephant s force. 
Peace is better than war, as a matter of course 
When the hand has by every deception been torn. 
The hand to the sword may be lawfully borne 
Should your foe wish for peace, his request do not 
spurn 1 



I .^ifimdjar, a Penlaa king, > 



I of Dului-Hjntaipes. lusoed by 



» 


P 




1 


3>0 5iiVi. 






1 


And should he seek battle, the reins do not turn ! 






■ 


For should he resolve to resist in the field, 






■ 


The strength and the awe of a thousand you'll wield. 






M 


If his foot he has placed in the stirrup of war, 






m 


Vou won't be arraigned at the Great Judgment Bar. 






P 


Be prepared, loo, for war, should sedition awake ! 






M 


For kindness to blackguards is quite a mistake. 






P 


If you talk in ap affable way to a wretch, 






a 


His presumption and arrogance higher will stretch. 






m 


When your enemy, vanquished, approaches your gate, 






1 


Cast revenge from your heart and cast ire from your 






1 


|»1=! 






1 


You should kindness bestow when he asks for your 


J 




1 


care; 


M 




9 


Be gracious ! and of his decepiions, beware ! 


■ 




3 


From an ag^d ifian's counselling turn not away I 


■ 




M 


For he knows his work well who has lived to be gray ! 






^ 


And should they remove from its site the stronghold— 






m 


The youth with the sword and with wisdom the old — 






n 


In the thick of the fight, bear a refuge in mind ! 


M 




^ 


What know you which side will the victory find? 


■ 




M 


When you see that your army has lost in the strife, 


■ 




wi 


Alone, do not cast to the wind your sweet life ! 






Q 


Should your place be the border, make nmning your 






Is 


carel 


1 




a 


And if in the middle, the foe's raiment wear ! 


^ 




li 


If you number two thousand — two hundred your foe,— 


■ 




m 


When night has arrived from his clime you should go ! 


■ 




m 


At night, Fifty horsemen from lying in wait, 


n 




1 


Like Five Hundred, a Doise on the ground will create. 




H 


SD 




r 



^ 


W ' 


^ 






~ 




Bustan. \ ( l 








When you wish lo accomplish some marches by nighi 








First, look for the ambushes, hidden from sight I 








When one of two annies has marched for a day 








The strength from his hands will have dwindled anay 








At your leisure ihc army exhausted attack ! 








For the fool has himself placed a load on his back 








When you've vanquished your foe, do not lower your 








flag! 








Lest again he should gather his forces, and brat 








In pursuit of the fugitives, go not loo far ! 








For you should not lose sight of your comrades in war 








When the air, from war's dust, like a cloud to you shows 








Around you, with spears and with swords, ihey will 








close. 








From searching for plunder, the soldier refrains. 








Who, alone, at the back of the monarch remains 








To an army, the duty of guarding the king. 








Is better than fight in the battle-field's ring. 








Of SA'ni'S JOURNEV TO HiNIXJSTAN AND THE DePRAV 








m- OF Idoi^trv. 








An ivory idol 1 saw at Somnat,' 








Begemmed, as in paganish times was Monat.* 








So well had the sculptor its features designed. 








That an image more perfect no mortal could find 








Caravans from each district were moving along 








1 Somnal, a fainoiis Hindu temple in Guieral, deslreyed by 








M»hmu<)QfGl.awi. 






: 


1 Mon-i, one of ihR chM idoli of pagan Arabia. 


1 


J 



332 



Sa-JL 



To look at that spiritless image they throng. 
Kings of Chioa and Chighil, like Sa'di, forsooth ! 
From that hard-hearted idol were longing for truth. 
Men of eloiiuencc, gathered from every place, 
Were beseeching in front of that dumb idol's face. 
I was helpless to clear uj) the circumstance, how 
The Animate should to the inanimate bow? 
To a pagan with whom I had something to do — 
A companion well spoken, a chum of mine, too — 
I remarked in a whisper, " O Brahmin, so wise ! 
At the scenes in this place I experience surprise ! 
About this helpless form they are craved in their mind, 
And in error's deep pit are as captives confine<.l. 
Its hands have no strength, and its feet have no pace ; 
And if thrown on the ground 'twould not rise from its 

place. 
Don't you see that its eyes are but amber, let in? 
To seek for good faith in the blind is a sin ! " 
That friend at my speech to an enemy turned ; 
He seized me, and, fire-like, from anger he burned. 
He told all the pagans and temple old men ; 
I saw not my welfare in that meeting then. 
Since the crocked road seemed unto them to be right. 
The straight road very crooked appeared in their sight ; 
For although a good man may be pious and wise. 
He's an ignorant fool in the ignorant's eyes, 
I was helpless to aid as a man being drowned; 
Except in abasement no method I found. 
\Vhen you see that a fool has malevolence shown. 
Resignation and meekness give safety alone. 



^w 



Buslan. 



Hi 



The chief of the Brahmins I praised to the skies 

" Of the Zend and Asta ' oh, expounder most wise ! 

With this idol's appearance I'm satistied, too; 

For the lace and the features are charming to view 

lis figure appears very choice in my sight ; 

But regarding the truth I am ignorant, quite. 

1 am here as a traveller a very short while, 

And a stranger knows seldom the good from the vile 

You're the queen of the chess-board and therefore aware 

And the monarch's adviser of this temple fair. 

To worship by mimicking, doubtless, is wrong 

Oh, happy the pilgrim whose knowledge is strong ! 

What truths in the figure of this idol lie ? 

For the chief of its worshippers, truly, am I! " 

The face of the old Brahmin glowed with delight 

He was pleased and said, '■ Oh, thou whose statemenu 

are right ! 
Your question is proper, yoar action is wise — 
Whoever seeks truth will to happiness rise. 
Like yourself, too, on many a journey I've been 
And idols not knowing themselves I have seen 
Save this, which each morning, just where it now stands 
To the great God of Justice upraises its hands I 
And if you are willing, remain the night here ! 
And to-morrow, the secret to you will be clear 
At the chief Brahmin's bidding 1 tarried all night 
In the well of misfortune, like Biihan's' my plight 

> Zend and Atu. religioui books ollhe Magi. 
* Blifaui. grandson o[ Riutem. confined in a well tiy Afrsdab for 
tieing caughl fn his palace In compas)' wllh hii di 



3M 



Sdiii. 



The night seemed as long as the last Judgment 

Day; 
The pagans, unwashed, round me feigning to pray. 
The priests very carefully water did shun ; 
■Oieir armpits like carrion exposed in the sun ! 
Perhaps a great sin I had done, long before. 
That I on that night so much punishment bore. 
All the night I was racked in this prison of grief, 
With one hand on my heart, one in prayer for relief: 
When the drummer, with suddenness, beat his loud 

drum. 
And the cock crowed the fate of the Brahmin lo 

come. 
Unresisted, the black-coated preacher, the night, 
Drew forth from his scabbard the sword of daylight. 
On this tinder, the morning fire happened to fall. 
And the world in a moment was brilliant to all. 
You'd have said that all over the country of Zang, ' 
From a comer, the Tartars had suddenly sprung ! 
The pagans depraved, with unpurified face, 
Came from door, street, and plain to the worshipping- 
place. 
The city and lanes were of people bereft ; 
In the temple, no room for a needle was left. 
I was troubled from rage and from sleeplessness dazed. 
When the idol its hands upward, suddenly, raised. 
All at once, from the people, there rose such a shout. 
You'd have said that the sea in a rage had boiled 
out. 

1 ZaDg;. Zanilbar, in Africa. 




Builart. 



335 



When the temple became from the multitude free. 

The Brahmin all smiles gazed intently at me : 

" I am sure that your scruples have vanished," he said, 

"Truth has made itself manifest, falsehood has fled." 

AVhen I saw he was slave to an ignorant whim. 

And that fancies absurd were established in him. 

Respecting the truth, I no more could reveal, 

For from scoffers, 'tis proper the truth to conceal. 

When you find yourself under a tyrant's command. 

It would scarcely be manly lo break your own hand. 

1 wept for a time, that he might be deceived. 

And said, " At the statement I made, 1 am grieved ! " 

At my weeping, the pagans' hearts merciflil proved — 

Is it strange that a stone by the torrent is moved ? 

In attendance, they ran to me, very much pleased ; 

And in doing me honor my hands they all seized. 

.Asking pardon I went to the image of bone — 

In a chair made of gold on a teak-timber throne — 

A kiss to the hand of the idol I gave. 

Saying, " Curse it and every idolatrous slave ! " 

A pagan I was for a little, in name ; 

In discussing the Zend, I a Brahmin became I 

When myself, " titu of trust" in the temple I found, 

I could scarcely from joy keep myself on the ground. 

I fastened the door of the temple one night. 
And, scorpion- like, ran to the left and the right. 
All under and over the throne I then pried, 
And a curtain embroidered with gold I espied ; 
A firc-tcmplc prelate in rear of the screen, 
AVith the end of a rope in his hands, could be seen. 



1 



w -^ 


P 
< 

1 


1 








336 Sa-di. 

The stale of affaire I al once saw aright — 
Like David ' when steel grew lilte wax in his sight. 
For, of course, he has only the rope to depress, 
When the idol upraises its hands for redress I 
Ashamed was the Brahmin at seeing my face — 
For to have any secret exposed 's a disgrace. 
He bolted, and 1 in pursuit of him fell. 
And speedily tumbled him into a well ; 
For I knew that the Brahmin escaping alive. 
To compass my death would incessantly strive. 
And were I despatched he would happiness feel, 
Lest, living, I might his base secret reveal. 
When you know of the business a villain has planned. 
Put it out of his power, when he falls to your hand. 
For if to that blackguard reprieve you should give, 
He will not desire thai you longer should live. 
When at service he places his head al your gate, 
If he can, he will surely your head amputate 1 
Your feet, in the track of a cheat do not place ! 
If you do, and discover him, show him no grace ! 
I despatched the impostor with stones, without dread. 
For tales are not told by a man when he 's dead. 
When 1 found that I caused a disturbance to spread. 
I abandoned that country and hastily fleii. 
If a fire in a cane-brake you cause to rise, 
l,ook out for the tigers therein, if you're wise 1 
The young of a man-biting snake do nol slay ! 
If you do, in the same dwelling-place do not sUy ! 

> DkiM wu luppoied ID be nble lo moke Iran as soft as wai by 
hli touch. 








H 


L 


■ g 


|i 




When you've managed a hive, full of bees, to excite, 
Run away from the spot ! or you'll suffer their spile 
sharper than you, don't an arrow despatch ' 
When you've done it, your skirt' in your teeth you 

should catch ! 
No better advice Sa'di's pages contain ; 

"When a wall's undermined, do not near ii re 
main ! " 

I travelled to Sind, after that Judgment Day; 
By Yemen and Mecca I thence took my way. 
From the whole of the bitterness, Fate made me meet 
My mouth till to-day has not shown itself sweet 
By the aiding of Bu-Bakar-Sad's fortune fair^ 
Whose like not a mother has borne nor will bear — 
From the sky's cruel hardness, for justice I sought , 
In this shadow dilTuscr, a retiige 1 got. 
Like a slave, for the empire I fervently pray : 

" O God, cause this shadow forever to stay ' ' 
He applied not the salve to my wound's need alone. 

But becoming the bounty and favor his own 
Meet thanks for his favors, when could I repeat? 
Even if in his service my head changed to feet ! 

When these miseries past I experienced joy , 
Yet some of the subjects my conscience annoy 
One is, when the hand of petition and praise, 
To the shrine of the Knower of Secrets I raise, 
The thoughts of that puppet of China arise. 



Ihc girdle round the loins. 




338 



Sa'di. 



And cover with dust my self-valuing eyes ; 
I know that the hand I stretched forth to the shrine 
Was not lifted by any exertion of mine ! 
Men of sanctity do not their hands upward bring, 
But the powers unseen pull the end of the string. 
Opc's the doors of devotion and well-doing, still, 
Every man has not power a good work to fiilfil. 
This same is a bar ; for to court to repair, 
Is improper, except the king's order you bear. 
No man can the great key of destiny own. 
For absolute power is the Maker's alone. 
Hence, oh travelling man on the straight path Divine 1 
The favor is God the Creator's, not thine. 
Since, unseen. He created your mind pure and wise. 
From your nature no action depraved can arise. 
The same who has poison produced in the snake. 
The sweemess produced by the bee, too, did nuke. 
When He wishes to change to a desert your land, 
He first makes the people distressed at your hand ; 
And should His compassion upon you descend, 
To the people through you He will comfort extend. 
That you walk the right road do not boast, I advise ! 
For the Fates took your hand, and you managed to rise. 
By these words you will benefit if you attend ; 
You will reach pious men iflheir pathway you wend. 
You will get a good place if the Fates are your guide ; 
On the table of honor rich fare they'll provide. 
And yet 'tis not right that you eat all alone, 
For the poor, helpless Dervish some thought should 
be shown. 



CtD 



HAFIZ. 

During the golden age of Persian poetry there was no 
poet more popular than Hafiz, the greatest lyric wnter of 
Persia. The exact dates of his birth and death are 
unknown, but he was born in his beloved city of Shirsz 
in the lirst part of the fourteenth century, and died, accord 
ing to the inscription or chronogram on hb tomb, in 1388' 
A.D. His biographers say that he did not live later than 
1391, thus making him an exact contemporary of Chaucer 

Hafii, from ibe Arabic word for memory, was his poeti- 
cal name and signified that he knew by heart the Koran, 
his real name being Shams-ud-DIn Mohammad, nhich 
means Son of Faith. There is very little accurate knowl- 
edge of his early or domestic life, but there is a tradition 
that he was the son of a baker in Shiran ; at all e\ents he 
seems to have lived a life of self-imposed poveK\, for he 
regarded it as necessary to genius. 

In the following story we lind the first evidence of his 
gift for song. His unde began a poem on Sulism and 
could not get beyond the first line. Haliz, dunng his 
uncle's absence, finished the verse, and when this was 
discovered, his uncle, although annoyed, ordered Hatii to 
finish the poem, at the same time curbing him and his 
works, exclaiming. " They shall bring the curse of insanity 
on all who read them !" and some people believe that this 
curse actually clings round his verses. Indeed, he has 
been compared to Anacreon " with his maddening spell," 
and even is said to have quaffed the cup of immortolity 
The legend is this ; — 

1 Sit Gore Oiaeiey'a sbnemenl. 



340 



Hafi-^. 



'■ About four leagues from the city of Shirai b a place 
called Pir-i-sabi. or the 'Green Old Man,' and a popular 
superslilion prevailed that whoever watched there forty 
nights without sleep would become a great poet. Halix, 
when a youth, resolved to try the atlventure ; he was at 
thb time in love with a beautiful ' fair one,' whose name 
of Shakhi Nebat, expressed a ' hranch of sugar cane ; ' 
but he had a powerful rival in the Prince of Shiiaz. Like 
Ferhad, the lover of Shirin, he was not to be daunted by 
the rank of him who pretended to the smiles of his charm- 
ing bvorile. Every morning he walked before the house 
of his coy mistress, anxiously watching for some sign of 
recognition which might give him hope ; at noon he rested, 
and at night repaired to the place of the 'green old 
man,' and there took up his watchful station. 

"This he continued for thirty-nine nights, and on the 
fortieth morning was charmed to observe that his mistress 
beckoned to him from the balcony, and invited him lo 
enter. She received him with enthusiasm, declaring her 
preference of a bright genius to the son of a king. On the 
approach of night he hurried .iway, bent on finishing the 
adventure. Early on the morning, after his agitated 
fortieth night, the young poel perceived an aged man 
approaching. He could not see from whence he came, 
and could scarcely define his figure, which was wrapt in a 
green manlle; in his hand he bore a cup containing a 
crystal liquor, which sparkled and foamed as if it would 
overleap its narrow bounds. The aged man held out the 
vase to Haiiz, who, seizing it with avidity, drank an inspir- 
ing draught, and found in it the gift of immortal poesy." 

At one time Hafiz became a teacher of the Koran in a 
college in Baghdad, and here the poet read from his own 
verses, the fame of which drew great numbers of pupils to 
him. Indeed he himself says. -O Hafi* ! the fame of 
thine enchanting witchery hath reached the hounds of 
Egypt and China, and the extremities of Kai and Rum." 



Hafii- 



1>A\ 



On one occasion he started to visit India at the iavita- 
tloD of the Sultan Mahmud Shah Ben Meni, but fell among 
robbers and was stripped of everything. He was rescued 
by two merchants who knew of his fame. In their com- 
pany he embarked for India at Hormaz on ihe Persian 
Culf; but the ship was wrecked and Haliz, escaping, 
returned to Shiraz. Hafiz wrote during turbulent limes. 
Shirai, which he seems to have loved no less than Dante 
loved Florence, was conquered five or six times ; kings 
came and went and the bloody drama moved on. yet there 
is hardly a reference to it in his poems. His first patron, 
Abu Ishak, was beheaded in front of the ruins of Persep- 
olis, a tragedy evidently seen by the poet. In 1388 the 
great Timor ' (Tamerlane) overran ancient Persia, and, it 
is said, emphasized his victory by a lower of 90,000 human 
heads. And this terrible conqueror ordered Hafiz to be 
brought before him because of the following line in his 
famous ode : ^ — 

" For the black mole on Ihy cheek, I would give ihe ciliei of 

" Art thou the man," Timur cried, " who has been bold 
enough to offer my two great cities, Samarkand and Bo- 
khara, for the black mole on the cheek of thy mistress ? " 

"Yes. sir," replied the undaunted poet, "and by such 
acts of generosity have I been reduced to my present 
slate of destitution, and compelled to solicit your assist- 
ance." This reply so pleased the astonished ruler thai he 
dismissed ihe poel with a princely gift. 

Hafii was married, and in an ode laments his wife's 
dea!h,' as he does that also of an unmarried son. ' Of his 
wife he writes, " Then said my heart, I will rest me in this 
city which' is illuminated by her presence; already her 
feet were bent upon a longer journey and my poor heart 

' A draceniUnl of Genghis Khan, Ihe Mongol warrior. 

* See page 346, ' See page 37B. 

* Seepage 37a. 




Hafiz left no complete volume of his worlcs ; like Shake- 
speare's, they were collected after his death. There are 
five hundred and seventy-three ghazets or odes, forty-two 
aphorisms, seventy-nine qualrains and several kasidas and 
•J forms. The principal themes of his odes are love, 
wine, and roses, — but these themes all have a secondary 
interpret ntio a and a moral significance. 

Although " not so learned as Sa'di or so scientific a: 

it natural and least egotistical poet of Persia." ' 
'• Persian of the Persians." ' Eastern critics say of him that 
he " may be condemned but he cannot be compared." 

A PERSIAN SONG.' 

SwKET maid, if ihou wouldst charm my sight, 
And bid those arms my neck enfold, 

That rosy cheek, llwt lily hand. 
Would give thy poet more delight 
Than all Bokhara's vaunted gold. 

Than all the gems of Samarkand. 
Boy, let yon liquid ruby ' flow, 
And bid thy pensive heart be glad, 

Whate'er the frowning zealots say ; 
Tell them their Eden cannot show 
A stream so clear as Ruknabad, 

A bower so sweet as Moscalla. 




G» 



* 



Odes. 



h: 



3. Alack, these saucy Lulis, dear beguilen that the 

town embroil, 
The wantOQs tear the hcarUtrings as the Tuikt their 
pluoder-banquetry. 

4. Od our frail love the Loved One's pure perfectioa 

no depcDdence knows ; 
Can unguent, powder, paint, and patch embellish 
feces fair, pardie? 

5. Be wine and minstrel all thy theme; beware, nor 

plumb the deeps of fate ; 
For none hath found, nor e'er shall find by wit, that 
great enigma's key. 

6. Of that fair fevor Joseph wore, to make more lair 

the day, we know ; 
For him love bade Zulaikha tear apart her veil of 
pnidenc)-. 

7. Thy words were hard, yet I submit ; forgive thee 

God ! Thy words were good ; 
The tart response beseemeth well the honeyed ruby 
lips of thee. 

8. Give ear, my life ! perpend my words ; for more 

dear e'en than hfc itself 
To youth, so blest of Fortune, speaks the sage ad- 
vice of ancientry. 

9. The ode is made, the pearls are slmng ; go, Haliz, 

sweetly ang thy lay ; 
With jewels from the Pleiad crown doth Heaven 
engem thy minstrelsy. 



^m_ 



Odes. 



7. Ringed round with wine and roses, sweet sang the 

bulbul yestreen, 
" Bring quick the rooming goblet ; friends, watch 
in expectation." 

8. All entry men forbid me inside the gate of virtue ; 
So, sir, and wilt thou scorn me ? Go, change pre- 

destination ! 

9. More sweet to me than kisses, more soft than maid- 

en's cheeks are. 
That bitter named of Suli, " Dam of aboroi nation." 

10. When comes the hour of sadness, turn thou to wine 

aod gladness ; 
Kamns of beggars maketh wine's chemic transmit- 
tation. 

11. Wine-flecked is Hafiz' cassock, yet not of choice 

he dons it ; 
Ah, Shaikh of hem unspotted, hear thou my excul* 
pation! 



Ode hi. 

t. Aflame with bloom is the red rose, the bulbtil drunk 
with spring ; 
What ho, adorers of wine ! Hear the call to mirth 
that they Sing. 



eir b«be *e ufii ml 






& WUMMdn MrfHHr««%han; be Bcny 
For n Mtf ■ boi Ae lis ad of cfoj peffcct 



T< Hk faae at Aafk, the wind-aeed, tbe ipeeck 

wttb tfae Imfa of ifae ar 



ami Aal tbe^ brac- 
& No poiioti heavcmmd wwMg ocsn ; (be mow 



Shall sink to dust in the end, howsoe'er it leap on 
the wing. 

9. What thanks and praises, O Haliz, shall yield the 
tongue of thy pen, 
That all the songs of thy singing from mouth to 
mouth men sing ! 



Ode IV. 

I. Retuins again to the pleasance the rose, alive from 
the dead ; 
Before her feet in obeisance is bowed the violet's 
bead. 

3. The earth is gemmed as the skies are, the buds a 
zodiac band, 
For signs in happy ascendant and sweet conjunc- 
tion spread 

3. Now kiss the cheek of the Saki to sound of tabor 

and pipe, 
To voice of viol and harpstring the wine of dawn- 
tide wed. 

4. The rose's season bereave not of wine and music 

and love. 
For as the days of a man's life her little week is 
fled. 



5. The faith of old Zoroaster 1 



the gardeo 




For the hermii-heajt of passion to the world no 
longer turncth, 

3. For the hyacinth, I scorn her, that she dares lo 

match ihy ringlets ; 
What a puny worthless black thing, what an impti- 
dence she learneth ! 

4. In the wilderness and dark night whither turn the 

erring footstep, 
Bui to where thy beauty radiant as a beacon brightly 
bumeth ? 

5. With the taper meetly weep 1 in the dreary hour of 

dawn tide, 
For alike we sit consuming, and alike the Loved 
One spumeth. 

6. In the garden walk and mark how, by the rose's 

throne, the tulip 
As a moiurch's boon companion his effulgent cup 
uptumeth, 

7. As the cloud of April weep 1 to behold that in the 

pleasance 
'Tis the nightingale that nesteth, but a crow the 
gloi; eameth. 

8. With thy eye for torch, thy love-lock in the night 

my heart doth waylay — 
The marauder bold, that such light on his thieving 
naught cone erne th ! 

9. The enduring heart of Hafiz but the lore of love 

desircth. 




r 


1 


IP 










358 Haji^. 






a. Light 'twere, desire to sever forth from the soul, but 
natheless 








Soul friends depart asunder — there, there the pain 




^ 


^U transcending ! 




1 


IB 3* Fain in the garden budlike close-wrapped were I, 
rU thereafter 




■ 




Frail reputation's vestment bloomlike asunder 




■ 




1 rending ; 




■ 




4. Now like the zephyr breathing love tales in roses' 




1 




hearing, 
Now from the yearning bulbul love's myst'ry appre- 
hending. 


^ 


■ 


|m 5- While yet the hand availeth, sweet lips to kiss delay 1 


■ 


■ IB 






H Else lip and hand thou bitest too late, when comes 
if the ending. 






i 6. Waste not the hour of friendship ; outside this 






31 House of Two Doors 


^^ 




3| Friends soon shall part asunder, no more together 


■ 




i| wending. 


■ 




jal 7- Clean out of mind of Sultan Mansur hath Hafii 


■ 




O^ wandered ; 


■ 




inl Lord, bring him back the olden kind heart, the 


■ 




^ poor befriending. 


^ 




M °"^ ^' 




1 


nl I. Curled is the hiur of hyacinth, jealous to match thy 
ig^l hair, for thee ; 




1 


a 

* 


^« 


^^^1^ 


il 





^ 1 


W 






tUBMWIg^i^^.rfai^iffckaji-^Mi'+ArH 


360 Hafii. 


1 




8. Like to a gatden bower thy cheek, where is the 
beauty-tide of spring 
Hafiz the sweet of tongue doth neat, trilling his 
music there for thee. 








Ode XI. 








I. Man of Self, lifted up with endless pride. 
We forgive thee — for love to thee is denied. 








2. Hover not round the raving lovers' laments ; 

Take thy " Reason Supreme " for goal and guide ! 








3. What of Lx)ve's drunken frenzy knows that brain 
That the grape's earthly juice alone hath plied? 








4. Get a Moon-love, and teach thy heart to strive. 
Though thy flame, like a sun, be spread world- 
wide. 


i 






. 5. Tis the white face, the anguish -burdened sigh, 
Tell the secrets the heart of love would hide. 


1 


p 




6. Let the bowl clear the fumes that rack thy brain ; 
Haliz, drink deep, and name and fame be defied. 


1 






Ode XI I. 








I. " What bounty shall Heaven bestow? Drink wine ; 
be the rose-leaf sprent." 
So rose in the dawntide sang ; sing, bulbul, a glad 

consent. 




- 


L 


1 


a 



^ 


r ^ 


^ 










Odes. )63 






7. Twas the grace of One Name erst dow'rcd with 








might Suiiman's seal ; 








In that Name, honey-sweet, all the night for 








thee we pray. 








8. Tom away my Joseph dear ; mercy, mercy, breth- 








ren mine; 
All the woe of Canaan's sire once again my woes 














portray. 








9. Strayed is Hafiz ; ah, be kind ; gently lead the lost 








one back; 








In thy straying ringlet's cutt make a home for 








hearts astray. 








Ode XIV. 








MV BIRD.' 








My soul is as a sacred bird, the Highest Heaven its 








Fretting within the body's bars, it finds on earth no 








rest. 
















shall soar, 








'Twill find upon yon lofty gale the nest it had before. 








The Sidrah' shall receive my bird when it has winged 








its way : 








Know on the Empyrean's top my falcon's foot shall 








stay. 
















* ■■ The Sidrah " - ihe (ree ol PmdUe. 










1 




1 


J 



Odes XV. and XVI.* 



^joj»* oj uopOAsp sq dopovjd Xqi laj | ig»H O ' ^r^^ 

»T3 O O THOU «^. 

S g" WHO ABIDEST 5 g 



' ^ 3 

^.5?^:^ although a a.. 

S-gS? ALL THINGS PERISH 1 Cgg 

|;3 erg. Where doth Thy love's glad message echo for my .9^^^ 

^"crSo rapt soul to rise? is § jj 

A "< i ^ This sacred bird from the world's meshes yearns to £*a 

S-o tan its goal to rise. J^ £"§ 

og.ri^ "g g-- Sb 

• (S or g* I swear, wilt Thou Thy servant name me, by all my u S *£ jS 

5- & « lov* sublime, ^ E *5 *^ 

g n* ^ Higher than my desire of lordship o'er space and i^ [^ ^ ^ 

-^. 2 o time to rise. S^ "S ^B 

o&g: s§§3 

5*2 p Vouchsafe, Lord, from Thy cloud of guidance to „ «»^ ^ 

o •• B pour on me Thy rain, g 2 

"^ Ere Thou command me as an atom from man's ^ ^ 
domain to rise. 

^ > 9 

<^ 9 Bring minstrels and the wine-cup with thee, or at my o o 

crr»a»5 tomb ne'er sit ; "S g 

sS'S 3* Permit me in thy perfume dancing from the grave's •o*^' - ^ 

8,b| pittorise. ||8po 

B ^ S ^ Though I am old, embrace me closely, be it a single ^'o^ii 



8- 3^ » May r, made young by Thy caresses, at mom have < g o -5 

g^<?9 3 might to risel gSog, 

[^Q 9 3 Arouse theel show thy lofty stature, idol of winning C o^.c 

^ff* gf mien; o-«^ 

^»l ^ Enable me, as soul-reft Hafiz, from Nature's scene to .c "g € j« 

P risel ^- fc»* 

^ ^ To-day am I of life possessed; 'tis wholly all for 1"^ S"^ 

g B thy Love: q £ 

At mom by the Imams' pure souls my witness there ^ 
above be Thou I 

'^VSJ <C INSCRIPTION ON THE SLAB OP <V*i^^'^ 
^^^^ HAFIZ'S TOMB. cCp^^ 

' Odes intcribftd on Hafix's tomb. 




V 



Ode XX.' 
[f ihal dear musk-moled Fair undraped draw near, 
rhat Moon who mid all beauties finds no peer, 
tier heart is seen through her transparent breast 
4s pebbles glitter under water clear. 

Ode XXL' 

1 said, " O Queen of loveliness. 
Have mercy on a wretch like me ! " 

She answered, " Love has brought distress 
To many a wretch like thee ! " 

I said, "Ah, stay ! and list awhile — " 
She lightly answered, " Pardon me. 

The Queen of I-ove has not one smile 
For such a wretch as thee ! 

"The brighl-eyed one who lays her head 

To sleep on silk — indifferent she, 
Though thorns and brambles be the bed 

Of such a wretch as thee ! " 
Ah 1 what a shrine for love has he 

Whose heart is fettered in thy hair ! 
Ah, Mole ! how blest to dwell like thee ! 

Upon that face so fair ! 
Among the lilies of her cheek, 

The transient blushes come and go ; 
A wind-tossed rose-leaf thus might streak 

The jasmine's breast of snow 1 
I Tetmllch. * Calttilta RevUn of 1S71. 




Wbenfarefaitcmj hp? Ofa ! ur 
Did mj toogne laj bcsrt betray? 
Rnby tqpa IVe presed, 'tis tnie. 
Whose, — I win not tdl tojnoo. 
Far 6on her in mf lone cot 
Ssd has been 1117 bapkst lot ; 
I hare ielt, alas ! too weD 
Fangi wbich ask dk not to tcU. 
I the ways of Lore ha^-e known, 
AD its secrets are my own. — 
Shall I aO those secrets state ? 
They're what — ! can ne'er relate. 

Ode XXI II.' 
A flower-tinted check, the flowery close 
Of the foir eanh, these are enough for me — 
Enough that in the meadow wanes and grows 
The shadow of a graceful cypress tree. 
I am no lover of hypocrisy ; 
Of all the treasures that the earth can boast, 
A bnmmiDg cup of wine I prize the most — 

This is enough for me ! 
To them that here renowned for virtue live, 
A heavenly palace is the meet reward ; 
To me, the drunkard and [he beggar, give 
The temple of the grape with red wine stored I 
Beside a river seat thee on the sward ; 
> Poemi horn tbe Dtvan ot Hifii. uanilawd by GerlrudP Low- 




It floweth past — so Bows thy life away, 
So sweetly, swiftly, fleets our little day — 

Swift, but enough for me ! 

Look upon all the gold in the world's mart, 
On all the tears the world hath shed in vain ; 
Shall they not satisfy thy craving heart ? 
I have enough of loss, enough of gain ; 
I have my Love, what more can I obtain? 
Mine is the joy of her companionship 
Whose healing lip is laid upon my lip — 

This is enough for me I 

I pray thee send not forth my naked soul 

From its poor house to seek for Paradise ; 

Though heaven and earth before me God unroll. 

Back to my village still my spirit Hies, 

And, Hafiz, at the door of Kismet lies 

No just complaint — a mind like water clear, 

A song that swells and dies upon the ear. 

These are enough for thee I 



Ode XXIV. 

Sleep on thine eyes, bright as narcissus flowers. 

Falls not in vain ! 
And not in vain thy hair's soft radiance showers — 

Ah, not in vain ! 

Before the milk upon thy lips was dry, 

I said : " Lips where the salt of wit doth lie, 



^m_ 



Odes. 

Reflected within the goblet's ring 

I see the glow of my Love's red cheek, 

And scant of wit, ye who fail to seek 

The pleasures that wine alone can bring 1 

Let not the blandishments be checked 

Thai slender beauties lavish on me, 

Until in the grace of the cypress decked. 

My love shall come like a niddy pine tree. 

He cannot perish whose heart doth hold 

The life love wreathes — though my days are toli 

In the Book of the World lives my constancy. 

But when the Day of Reckoning is here, 
I &ncy little will be the gain 
That accrues to the Shaikh for his lawfiil cheer, 
Or to me for the draught forbidden I drain. 
The drunken eyes of ray comrades shine, 
At>d I too, stretching my hand to the wine, 
On the neck of drunkenness loosen the rein, 
Oh wind, if thou passest the garden close 
Of my heart's dear master, carry for me 
The message 1 send to him, wind that blows 1 
" Why hast thou thrust from thy memory 
My hapless name?" breathe low in his ear; 
" Knowest thou not that the day is near 
When nor thou nor any shall think on me?" 

If with tears, oh Hafiz, thine eyes are wet, 
Scatter them round thee like grain, and snar« 
The Bird of Joy when it comes to thy net. 





! Hafy 

As the tulip shrinks from the cold night air. 
So shrank my heart and quailed in the shade ; 
Oh Song-bird Fortune, the toib are laid, 
When shall thy bright wings lie pinioned there? 

The heavens' green sea and the bark therein. 
The slender bark of the crescent moon, 
Are lost in thy bounty's radiant noon, 
Vizir and pilgrim, Kawameddin ! 

Ode XXVI.' 

The nightingale with drops of his heart's blood 
Had nourished the red rose, then came a wind, 
And catching at the boughs in envious mood, 
A hundred thorns about his heart entwined. 
Like to the parrot crunching sugar, good 
Seemed the world to me who could not stay 
The wind of Death that swept my hopes away. 







Odes. 373 

Kneadeth the bricks for joy's abode ; and yet . . . 
Alas, and weeping yet I make lament ! 
Because the moon her jealous glances set 
Upon the bow-bent eyebrows of my moon, 
He sought a lodging in the grave — too soon ! 

I had not castled, and the time is gone. 
What shall I play? Upon the checkered floor 
Of Night and Day, Death won the game — forlorn 
And careless now, Hafiz can lose no more 



Ode XXVII. 

Return ! that to a heart wounded fall sore 
Valiance and strength may enter in ; return ' 
And Life shall pause at the deserted door 
The cold dead body breathe again and bum 
Oh come ! and touchmine eyes, of thysweet grace. 
For I am blind to all but to thy face. 
Open the gates and bid me see once more ' 

IJke to a cruel Ethiopian band. 

Sorrow despoiled the kingdom of my heart — 

Return ! glad Lord of Rome, and free ihe land , 

Before thine arras the foe shall break and part 

See now, I hold a mirror lo mine eyes, 

And naught but thy reflection therein lies , 

The glass speaks truth lo them that understand 

Night is with child, hast thou not heard men say? 
"Night iswith child ! what will she bring to birth? ' 



1 


^^^_ 




■ 


Odes. 375 




^ 




On the lip of Oblivion we linger, and short 








Is the way from the Lip to the Mouth where we pass — 






While the moment is thine, fill, oh Salti, the glass 








Ere all is naught ! 








Consider the rose that breaks into flower, 








Neither repines though she fade and die — 








The powers of the world endure for an hour, 








But naught shall remain of their majesty. 








Be not too sure of your crown, you who thought 








That virtue was easy and recompense yours ; 








From the monastery to the wine tavern doors 








The way is naught ! 








What though 1, too, have tasted the salt of ray teaia, 








Though I, too, have burnt in the fires of grief, 








Shall I cry aloud to unheeding ears ? 








Mourn and be silent ! naught brings relief. 








Thou, Hafiz, art praised for the songs thou hast 








wrought, 








But bearing a stained or an honored name, 








The lovers of wine shall make light of thy fame — 








All things are naught ! 








Ode XXIX. 








Slaves of thy shining eyes are even those 








That diadems of might and empire bear ; 








Drunk with the wine that from thy red lip flows. 








Are they that e'en the grape's delight forswear. 








Drift, like the wind, across a violet bed, 




d 


1 




i 



376 Hafi^i. 

Before ihy many lovers, weeping low. 
And clad like violets in blue robes of woe. 
Who feel thy wind-blown hair and bow the head. 

Thy messenger the breath of dawn, and mine 
A stream of tears, since lover and beloved 
Keep not their secret ; through my verses shine. 
Though other lays ray flower's grace have proved 
And countless nightingales have sung thy praise. 
When veiled beneath thy curls thou passesi, see, 
To right and leftward those that welcome thee 
Have bartered peace and rest on thee to gaze ! 

But thou that knowest God by heart, away ! 
Wine-drunk, love-drunk, we inherit Paradise, 
His mercy is for sinners ; hence and pray 
Where wine ihy cheek red as red erghwan dyes, 
And leave the ceU to faces sinister. 
Oh Khizr, whose happy feet bathed in life's fount. 
Help one who toils afoot — the horsemen mount 
And hasten on their way ; I scarce can stir. 

Ah, loose me not ! ah, set not Hafiz free 

From out the bondage of thy gleaming hair ! 

Safe only those, safe, and at liberty, 

That fast enchained in thy linked ringlets are. 

But from the image of his dusty cheek 

Learn this from Hafiz ; proudest heads shall bend, 

And dwellers on the threshold of a friend 

Be crowned with the dust that crowns the meek. 



fc 



Ode XXX. 

Not all the sum of earthly happiness 
Is worth the bowed head of a moment's pain, 
And if I sell for wine ray dervish dress. 
Worth more than what 1 sell is what I gain ' 
Land where my Lady dwells, thou boldest mc 
Enchained ; else Fars were but a barren soil 
Not worth the journey over land and sea, 

Not worth the toil ' 

Down in the quarter where they sell red wine, 
My holy carpet scarce would fetch a cup — 
How brave a pledge of piety is mine, 
Which is not worth a goblet foaming up I 
Mine enemy heaped scorn on mc and said 
" Forth from the tavern gate ! " Why am I thrust 
From off the threshold? is my fallen head 

Not worth the dust? 



Wash white that travel -stained sad robe of thme ' 
Where word and deed alike one color bear 
The grape's fair purple garment shall outshme 
Thy many-colored rags and tattered gear 
Full easy seemed the sorrow of the sea 
Lightened by hope of gain — hope llcw loo fast ' 
A hundred pearls were poor indemnity, 

Not worth the blast 

The Sultan's crown, with priceless jewels set. 
Encircles fear of death and constant dread , 



^ 


' 4 


w 






TwM-'iTiim-^^^'^-^'^-'^^^™*"-^'^""-'-'-'-^"^^ 




J78 H«A;. 






It is a head-dress much desired — and yet 


^ 






Art sure 'tis worth the danger to the head? 


■ 






'Twerc best for thee to hide thy face from those 


■ 






That long for thee ; the Conqueror's reward 


■ 






Is never worth the army's long-drawn woes, 








Worth fire and sword. 


m 






Ah, seek the treasure of a mind at rest 


^ 






And store it in the treasury of Ease ; 








Not worth a loyal heart, a tranquil breasl, 








Were all the riches of thy lands and seas ! 








Ah, scorn, like Hafiz, the delights of earth. 








Ask not one grain of favor from the base, 


, 






Two hundred sacks of jewels were not worth 


^ 






Thy soul's disgrace t 


■ 






Ode XXXI.' 








My lady, that did change tliis house of mine 








Into a heaven when that she dwell therein. 


1 






From head to foot an angel's grace divine 


^ 






Enwrapped her ; pure she was, spotless of sin ; 


■ 






Fair as the moon her countenance, and wise ; 


■ 


H^ 




Lords of the kind and tender glance, her eyes 


■ 


■ 






■ 


■ 




Then said my heart : Here will I take my rest ! 


■ 


■ 




This city breathes her love in every part. 


■ 


■ 




But to a disUnt bourne was she addressed, 


■ 


■ 




Alas ! he knew it not, alas, poor heart ! 


V 


■ 




The influence of some cold malignant star 




■ 


BM > Said 10 have been written on the death of hit wife. 1 


n 


C 


^^^^^ 


1 



Has loosed my hand that held her, lone and far 
She joumeyeth that lay upon my breast. 

Not only did she lift ray bosom's veil. 

Reveal its inmost secret, but her grace 

Drew back the curtain from Heaven's mansions pale. 

And gave her there an eternal dwelling-place. 

The flower-strewn river lip and meadows fair, 

The rose herself but fleeting treasures were, 

Regret and Winter follow in their trail. 

Dear were the days which perished witii my friend — 

Ah, what is \eh of life, now she is dead, 

All wisdoraless and profitless 1 spend ! 

The nightingale his own life's blood doth shed, 

When, to the kisses of the wind, the morn 

Unveils the rose's splendor — with his torn 

And jealous breast he dyes her petab red. 

Yet pardon her, oh Heart, for poor wert thou, 

A humble dervish on the dusty way ; 

Crowned with the crown of empire was her brow, 

And in the realms of beauty she bore sway. 

But all the joy that Hafiz' hand might hold. 

Lay in the beads that mom and eve he told, 

Worn with God's praise ; and see ! he holds it now. 

Ode XXXII. 
Not one is filled with madness like to mine 
In all the taverns 1 my soiled robe lies here, 
There my neglected book, both pledged for wine. 



~M 



^' 



10 Hajii. 

^Vith dust my heart is thick, that should be clear, 
A glass to mirror fonh the Great King's face ; 
One ray of hghl from out Thy dwelling-place 
To pierce my night, oh God ! and draw rae near. 

From out mine eyes unto thy garment's hem 
A river flows ; perchance my cypress tree 
Beside that stream may rear her lofty stem, 
Watering her roots with tears. Ah, bring to n 
The wine vessel I since my love's cheek is hid, 
A flood of grief comes from my heart unbid. 
And turns mine eyes into a bitter sea ! 

Nay, by the hand that sells me wine, I vow 
No more the brimming cu|> sliall touch my lips. 
Until my mistress with her radiant brow 
Adorns my feast — until Love's secret slips 
From her, as from the candle's tongue of flame, 
Though I, the singed molli, for very shame, 
Dare not exlol Love's hght without echpse. 

Red wine I worship, and I worsliip her ! — 
Speak not to me of anything beside, 
For naught but these on earth or heaven I care. 
Whiit though the proud narcissus flowers defied 
Thy shining eyes to prove themselves more bright. 
Vet heed them not ! those that are clear of sight 
Follow not them to whom all light's denied. 

Before the tavern door a Christian sang 

To sound of pipe and drum, what time the earth 



^B 



2 Hafii. 

Laughed out aloud, and speech flew hot 

And fast between thy ruby lips and mine ! 

Hast thou forgotten when thy cheek's dear torch 

lighted the beacon of desire in me, 

And when my heart, like foolish moths that scorch 

Their wings and yet return, turned all to thee? 

Within the banquet-hall of Good Repute 

(Hast thou forgot ?) the wine's self pressed my suit. 

And filled the mom with drunken jollity ! 

Hast thou forgotten when thou laid'st aright 
The uncut gems of Hafiz' inmost thought, 
And side by side thy sweet care strung the bright 
Array of verse on verse — hast thou forgot? 

Ode XXXIV. 

The breath of Dawn's musk-strewing wind shall blow. 

The ancient world shall turn to youth again, 

And other wines from out Spring's chalice flow ; 

Wine-red, the judas tree shall set before 

The pure white jessamine a brimming cup. 

And wind-flowers lift their scarlet chalice up 

For the star-pale narcissus to adore. 

The long-drawn tyranny of grief shall pass, 
Parting shall end in meeting, the lament 
Of the sad bird that sang " Alas, alas ! " 
Shall reach the rose in her red-curtained tent. 
Forth from the mosque ! the tavern calls to me ! 





)8S 



Upon her threshold I have laid my head, 
The dust shall cover me, still lying ihere, 
\V'hen from my body life and love have fled. 

My soul is on my lips ready to fly. 
But grief beats in my heart and will not cease, 
Because not once, not once before I die. 
Will her sweet bps give all my longing peace. 
My brealh is narrowed down to one long sigh 
For a red mouth that burns my thoughts like fire ; 
When will that mouth draw near and make reply 
To one whose life is straitened with desire? 

When I am dead, open my grave and see 
The cloud of smoke that rises round thy feet : 
In my dead heart the fire still bums for thee; 
Yea, the smoke rises from ray winding-sheet ! 
.^h, come, Beloved ! for the meadows wait 
Thy coming, and the thorn bears flowers instead 
Of thorns, the cypress fruit, and desolate 
Bare winter from before thy steps has fled. 

Hoping within some garden ground to find 
A red rose soft and sweet as thy soft cheek, 
'ITirough every meadow blows the western wind, 
Through every garden he is fain to seek. 
Reveal thy face ! that the whole world may be 
Bewildered by thy radiant loveliness ; 
The cry of man and woman comes to thee. 
Open thy lips and comfort their distress 1 



JAMI. 

The glory of Persian poetry ends »ith the great mystic 
Nur ud-Din Abd ut-Rahman, beiier known as Jami, He 
took his talAiii/iis, or poetical name, which means " drink- 
ing cup" or goblet, from Jam. the province in whicli he 
was born in 1414 a.u. 

At tive years of age he is said to have sliown his unusual 
gifts and he was called Nur-iid-Din, the "Light of Faith." 
In later years he received the title of Maulana. " Our Mas- 
ter." As a student at Herat and Samarkand he was a won- 
der to his classmates and an enigma to his professors. The 
bme of his learaing soon travelled to the most remote part 
of Persia, and as the guest of the Sultan Abu Sa'id, at 
Herat, he received great honors from the most distin- 
guished men of the times. He became an ardent student 
of the Sufi doctrine under its great master, Mohammed 
Saad ud-Din Kashghari. According to Fit/gerald Moham- 
med appeared to Jami in a dream and thus influenced the 
poet to study with him. The solitude which the Sufi teach- 
tDg demands was of so long a duration with Jami that when 
he again returned to the world he seemed almost to have 
lost the power of speech. Although early fitted to teach it, 
it was only during the last years of his life that he would 
take his master's place at the great mosque at Herat, where 
bis eloquence brought even far-away kings to his feet. 
Like all True Believers, Jami made his pilgrimage 10 
Mecca. It was in 1472 A.D., when he was about sixty 
years old. He visited at Baghdad and Damascus, return- 
ing after about a year's absence to Herat, where he died at 
the age of eighty-one years, 

Characteristic of the poet was his prayer of ; " O God ! 

Dervish let me live and Dervish die, and in the company 

38S 



CWZ} 



^m 



Jami. 



389 



of the Dervish do thou quicken me to life agaiti ! " Ye[ in 
spile of ihis sentiment the Sultan Husein had an elaborate 
funeral for this poet, and he was followed to his grave by a 
procession of all the celebrities of the court. A noted ora- 
tor delivered the funeral oration, whic!> was composed by 
his friend, Mir Ali Shir, the Vizir, who afterward laid the 
first stone of " Tarbet'i Jami," the monument raised to the 
poet's memory, and erected in one of the principal streets 
of Herat. 

Jami's wife was the granddaughter of his Suli teacher, 
and all his four sons died when very young. For the 
fourth son he wrote the Bcharisfan, or Spring Gar- 
lien, an imitation of the eight Gardens nf Paradise., a 
superb copy of which lies now in an English library. That 
Jami ''combined the moral tone of Sa'di with the lofty 
aspiration of Jelalu-'d-Dln-Rumi and the graceful ease of 
Hafii with the deep pathos of Niiami," Is a tribute he evi- 
dently feels is not undeserved, as he says of himself, " As 
Poet, I hare resounded through the World ; Hea.ven tilled 
itself with my Song, and the Bride of Time adorned her 
Ears and Neck with the Pearls of my Verse, whose coming 
Caravan the Persian Hafiz and Sa'di came forth gladly to 
salute, and the Indian Khosrau and Hasan hailed as a 
Wonder of the World." 

Jami devoted his life to study and literature, and as a 
result left behind him, according to one aulhonty. * ninety- 
nine books. These cover a variety of subjects, including 
theology, biography, ethics, history, letters, and poetry. 
The treasure spent in decorating the transcriptions of his 
manuscripts shows how his countrymen estimate his gen- 
ius, li is said that sixteen artists were employed upon one 
manuscript containing but 134 pages.' 

Jami's Salaman and Abial has been translated by 
Edward Fitzgerald, and was the first Persian poem he 
ever read. He calls it " almost the best of the Persian 



> Shir Khan Ludi. 



3 KkermaK in Afilcliam, 



Jami, 

poems I have read or heard about." Dul among all Jar 
celebraled works, Yusuf and Zulaikha, remodelled from 
Firdausi, is unquestionably the most bmous and considered 
the finest poem in the Persian language. It is the sixth tllle 
in his exquisite collection of poems called Haft Aurang 
or The Seveu Thrones. The best Persian scholars know 
its finest passages by heart, and in India it is read ii 
the " independent indigenous schools " where Persian i 
taught; it is really the Persian Ovid. A superb copy of 
this is in the Oxford Library. The esoteric meaning of the 
poem was evidently doubted by the writer, who stated that 
" it seeros to have been vrritten for the express purpose of 
showing how an unprincipled woman may pursue a good 
man for a series of years, marry him at last almost against 
his will, and make him wish himself in heaven the next day." 

To the Persians Yusuf (Joseph) stands as the emblem 
of divine perfection, and Zulaikha— the poets name for 
Potiphar's wife — shows how the human soul attains the 
love for the highest beauty and goodness, only when it has 
suffered and has, like Zulaikha, been purified and regener- 
ated. Such is the deeper meaning of this dramatic love 
poem which ditfers in many details from the scriptural 
■toiy of the young Israelite. 

The following translation, ends with the betrothal of 
Zulaikha and Yusuf. In the original it contains four 
thousand couplets in which we lind the " Marriage " and 
■' Death " of Yusuf, then ihe death of Zulaikha, and Sir 
William Jones says it is '■ the finest poem he ever read." 

YUSUF AND ZULAIKHA.' 

Prolooub. 

Unfold, Godj the bud of hope : dis close . 
FVoro Thine eternal Paradise one ros e . 

1 TranaUted by Ralph T. G. GriSilh. 



m 


F ' 


1 








Yusuf and Zulaikba. }9l 




Whose brealh may floo'J my biain niUi odor, wl^ile 








The-'biTd^lL-aMipleis iiKikr eh) ydr.k'ii' iinile. 








0_grant that 1, in this driiar uuild of ivoe, 








The boundless riches of Thy grace may know. 








May gratitude to Thee my thoughti oaphqrj. 








To sing Thy"praises be my task and joy. 








Vouchsare a prosperous day from those that ate 








Best on the roll of Wisdom's calendar. 








Send forth Thy soldier to the war, and teach 








His hps to conquer in the field of speech. 








t;rant that my tongue may weigh the pearls, Lord, 








Which Thy dear bounty in my heart has stored ; 








And let the fragrance Thou hast lent my muse 








Its musky breath from Kaf to Kaf diffuse. 








Lips sweet as sugar on my pen bestow. 








And from my book let streams of odor flow. 








In this world's inn, where sweetest songs abound, 








I hear no prelude to the strain I sound. 






The guests have quaffed their wine and passed away ; 








Their cups were empty and they would not stay. 








No sage, no stripling— not a hand ere mine — 








Has held this goblet of poetic wine. 








Rise, Jami, rise : thy fear behind thee cast. 








And, be it clear or dull, bring forth the wine thou hast 






^m 


1 Thai a. my bmtl. 








: KroBi east lo «esl, from norlb to lOuth. K>r U like Ihe L«U 


M 






loka or the Hindiu, ihe king of mounluiit which mdreles iho Rat 






1 


cuth. 


is 






JjBRHBHgi^SSStoj^^ - -- 




1 

m 




1 


i 



Jami. 



Praise of the Prophet. 

In separation pine the souls of all : 

For pity, Prophet sent by God, we call. 

Art thou not he who pities all, and how 

Canst thou be distant from the wretched now ? 

O dew-sprent Tulip, thou hast drunk ihy fill : 

Awake. Narcissus ! wilt thou slumber still ? 

Show from the screen of bliss Ihy head ; display 

That brow that bids the dawn of life be gay. 

'I>irn thou our night of woe to sun-bright morn, 

And let thy face our glorious day adorn. 

Loose from thy head thy long black hair, to meet 

Like shadows falling at ihy cypress' ' feet. 

Soft skins of Taif for thy sandals take, 

And of our heartstrings fitting latchets make. 

Sages before thee like a carpet lie. 

And fain would kiss thy foot that passes by. 

Leave for the sacred court thy far retreat, 

And tread on lips which yearn to touch those feet. 

Raise up the fathers ; from their misery free. 

And comfort those who give their hearts to thee. 

Though o'er our heads the waves of sin roll high ; 

Though by thy path with thirsty lips we lie ; 

Thou art a cloud of gentle mercy : turn 

Thy pitying look on lips that thirst and burn. 

O blest are they who turn lo thee with eyes 






a. latl, gcaCEhil figure ii 
)l Peraian poetry, 
tar from Mecca. 



~ap 



n 


f ' 


1 




1 


1 


Yusitf and Zulaikba. 39} 




Dimmed wiih thy pathway's dust and streogthencd rise. 


i 






We sought the mosque thanksgivings to renew ; 


'9 






Out souls like moths about thy splendor flew. 


is 






"EaciTKeaii'a lattice open to the day, 


M 






We sported in thy garden and were gay. 


M 






On sacred thresholds of thy courts we wept 


m 






Tears from the clouds of eyes that never slept. 


sj 






We swept the dust that on the pavement lay, 


ra 






And cleared the thistles with our hands away. 


9 






Of that, a salve to purge our sight we made ; 


ii 






Of these, a plaster on our hearts we laid. 


'Sg 






Near to the pulpit in thy mosque we drew, 


^ra 






And laid beneath it cheeks like gold in hue ; 


'H 






Mo4ed from the arch to offer prayer, and wept 


B 






With tears of blood where'er thy foot has stepped. 


M 






Erect we stood at every pillar's base. 


^ffil 






And mid the upright prayed for blissful place. 


ffll 






Our souls yearned for thee ; warmed with sweet desire. 


Hi 






We fed each flambeau from our holy fire. 


ml 






Our souls, thank God, are in that holy spot, 


mI 






Though with their dust our bodies strew it not. 


^1 






Helpless are we ; our own wild aims we seek : 


^ 






aid the helpless and forgive the weak. 









Do thou with loving hand our steps sustain, 


n 






Or all our labor, all our strength is vain. 


^ 






Fate drives us wandering from the path astray : 


Eal 






To God our guide, to God for light we pray. 


HI 






May His great mercy keep our lives secure. 


ul 






And in the path of faith our steps assure. 


Sol 






When comes that day that wakes the dead at last, 


1 




n 


J 


r 


1 


M 



394 



Jami. 



Let not our honor to the Aames be cast. 

Still may He grant, though we have wandered thus, 

Free leave to thee to intercede for us, 

Tis thine with downward head, as suits the mace,' 

To urge the ball through intercession's space. 

And through thy aid may Jami's work be found — 

Though some may scorn it — ivith completion crowned. 



Beaiht, 

Void lay the world, in nothingness concealed. 

Without a trace of light or Ufe revealed, 

Save one existence which no second knew — 

Unlcnown the pleasant words of We and You. 

Then Beauty shone, from stranger glances free. 

Seen of herself, with naught beside to see, 

With garments pure of stain, the fairest flower 

Of virgin loveliness in bridal bower. 

No combing hand had smoothed a (lowing tress. 

No mirror shown her eyes their loveliness. 

No surma' dust those cloudless orbs had known. 

To the bright rose her cheek no bulbul flown. 

No heightening hand had decked the rose with green. 

No patch ^ or spot upon that cheek was seen. 

No zephyr from her brow had filched a hair. 

No eye in thought had seen the splendor there. 

Her witching snares in solitude she laid, 

' An ullusiaa lo the game al chugan, the modem polo. 
' Collyrium or aniimony, applied under Ihe ej'clid. 
■ Small black " beauty spoil " wefc used bj Persian, u (ormerty 
by English tadies. 



Yusuf and Zulaikba. 



395 



And love's sweet game without a partner played. 

But wlicn bright Beauty reigns and knows her power. 
She springs indignant from her curtained bower. 
She scorns seclusion and eludes the guard, 
And from the window looks if doors be barred. 
See how the tulip on the mountain grown, 
Soon as the breath of genial Spring has blown, 
Bursts from the rock, impatient to display 
Her nascent beauty to the eye of day. 

When sudden to thy soul reflection brings 
The precious meaning of mysterious things, 
Thou canst not drive the thought from out thy brain ; 
Speak, hear thou must, for silence is such pain. 
So Beauty ne'er will quit the urgent claim 
Whose motive first from heavenly beauty came. 
When from her blessed bower she fondly strayed, 
And to the world and man her charms displayed. 

In every mirror then her face was shown. 
Her praise in every place was heard and known. 
Touched by her light, the hearts of angels burned. 
And, like the circling spheres, their heads were turned, 
While saintly bands, whom |>urest motives stir. 
Joined in loud praises at the sight of her. 
And those who bathe them in the ocean sky 
Cried out enraptured, " Laud to God on high ! " 

Rays of her splendor lit the rose's breast 
And stirred the bulbul's heart with sweet unrest. 
From her bright glow its cheek the flambeau fired, 
And myriad moths around the Same expired. 
Her glory lent the very sun the ray 




396 



Jami. 



Which wakes the lotus on the flood lo-day. 
Her loveliness made Laili's ' face look fair 
To Majnun, fettered by her every hair. 
She opened Shirin's sugared lips, and stole 
From Parviz' breast and brave Farhad's the soul. 
Through her his head the Moon of Canaan ' raised, 
And fond Zulaikha perished as she gazed. 

Yes, though she shrinks from earthly lovers' call, 
Eternal Beauty is the queen of all ; 
In every curtained bower the screen she holds. 
About each captured heart her bonds enfolds. 
Through her sweet love the heart its life retains, 
The soul through love of her its object gains. 
The heart which maidens' gentle witcheries stir 
Is, though unconscious, fired with love of her. 
Refrain from idle speech ; mistake no more : 
She brings her chains and we, her slaves, adore. 
Fair and approved of Ixive, thou still must own 
That gift of beauty conies from her alone. 
Thou art concealed : she meets all lifted eyes ; 
Thou art the mirror which she beautifies. 
She is that mirror, if we closely view 
The Irulh — the treasure and the treasury too. 

But thou and 1 — our serious work is naught ; 
We waste our days unmoved by earnest thought. 
Cease, or my task will never end, for her 
Sweet beauties lack a meet interpreter. 

1 LaiU and Majnun, and Shirin. Parrft. and Farhad. are trpi<>] 
loimt, celabialcd and frequcnlly alluded lo In Petsian pixKj. 
■ Vutul. 



cto 
it 



Yustrf and Zuiaikba. 



Then ict us still the slaves of love remain. 
For without love we Mvc in vain, in vain. 



Love, 

No heart is that which love ne'er wounded : they 
Who know not lovers' pangs are soulless clay. 
Turn from the world, O turn thy wandering feet ; 
Come to the world of love and find it sweet. 

Heaven's giddy round from craze of love was caught ; 
From love's disputes the world with strife is fraught. 
Love's slave be thou if thou would fain be free : 
Welcome love's pangs, and happy shall thou be. 
From wine of love came joy and generous heat : 
From meaner cups flow sorrow and deceit. 
Love's sweet, soft memories youth itself restore : 
The tale of love gives fame for evermore. 
If Majnun ne'er the cup of love had drained. 
High fame in heaven'and earth he ne'er had gained. 
A thousand sages, fleep in wisdom's lore, 
Untaught of love, died, and are known no more : 
Without a name or trace in death they sank. 
And in the book of Time their name is blank. 

The groves are gay with many a lovely bird : 
Our lips are silent and their praise unheard ; 
But when the theme is love's delicious tale, 
The moth is lauded and the nightingale. 
What (hough a hundred arts to thee be known : 
Freedom from self is gained through love alone. 
To worldly love thy youthful thoughts incline. 



598 



Jami. 



For earthly love will lead to loi'C divine. 

First with the Alphabet thy task begin, 

Then take the Word of God and read therein. 

Once to his master a disciple cried : — 
« To wisdom's pleasant path be thou my guide." 
"Hast thou ne'er loved?" the master answered ; "learn 
The ways of love and then to roe return." 
Drink deep of earthly lo\'e, that so thy lip 
May learn the wine of holier love to sip. 
But let not form too long thy soul entrance ; 
Pass o'er the bridge : with rapid feet advance. 
If thou wouldst rest, thine ordered journey sped, 
Forbear to linger at the bridge's head. 

Thank God that ever from mine early days 
My steps have been in love's delightful ways. 
Love stood beside me when my life was new. 
And from my mother's breast love's milk I drew. 
While as that milk are now my hairs, but still 
Sweet thoughts of love mine aged bosom thrill. 
Still in my heart the youthful warmth I feel, 
While in my ear reechoes Ixive's appeal : — 

" In love, O Jami, have thy days been passed : 
Die in that love gay-hearted to the last. 
Some tale of love's adventure, that may win 
Thy name remembrance in the world, begin : 
Some picture with thy finest pen assay, 
AVhich still may live when thou art gone away." 

I heard entranced : my spirit rushed to meet 
Love's welcome order, for the voice was sweet ; 
With gladsome heart the clear command obeyed. 





1 


1 


1 




1 


^ 




Yusuf and ZtUaikba. 399 




And straight the magic of new spells essayed. 


1 






Now if kind Heaven will bless and aid the task, 


M 






And lade my palm tree wilh the fruit 1 ask, 


g 






1 from this glowing heart will pour a song 


m 






To mell the tender and to move the strong ; 


m 






Veil the blue vault of heaven with cloud of sighs. 


m 






And with wild weeping dim ils starry eyes. 


1 






Yusuf. 


1 






In this orchestra full of vain deceit 


i 






The drum of Being, each in torn, we beat. 


w 






Each morning brings new truth to light and fame, 


M 






And on the world falls lustre from a name. 


ffi 






If in one constant course the ages rolled. 


M 






Full many a secret would remain untold. 


n 






If the sun's splendor never died away, 


m 






Ne'er would the market of the stars be gay. 


w 






If in our gardens endless frost were king, 


ni 






No rose would blossom at the kiss of Spring. 


w 






When Adam's service in the temple ceased, 


B 






Seth took his station as presiding priest. 


m 






He passed away, and Idris ' next began 


m 






In this sad world to preach pure love to man. 


m 






When he was called away to read in heaven, 


n 






To Noah's watchful care our faith was given. 


W 






When Noah sank beneath death's whelming wave. 


m 






To Allah's friend ' Ihe door admittance gave. 


m 






1 Enoch. Idris b dfri-red from iaraia. - he read," ud Ibe fol- 


m 






lowing line coniairu a pfay OQ Ihe word. 










i 






i 


J 


r 


J 



400 



Jami. 



When heavenly mansions claimed him for a guest, 

Isaac the treasure which he left possessed. 

When Isaac wearied of ihe world and died. 

The voice of Jacob was religion's guide. 

He lived and prospered : planted by his hand. 

His banner waved o'er Shain ' and Canaan's land, 

Wherein he made his dwelling. Rich was he 

In patriarchal wealth and progeny ; 

And sheep and rams cropped on his hills their food 

Like ants and locusts for their multitude. 

Twelve sons were his. Among ihem Yusuf won 

The father's heart, his best beloved son, 

The darling of his age. The happy mother 

Bore him the heavenly moon's terrestrial brother. 

In the heart's garden a fair plant was reared ; 

A bright young raoon in the soul's heaven appeared ; 

Id Abraham's rose-bed a sweet blossom, bright 

In garb of tender beauty, sprang lo light ; 

In the House of Isaac there rose a star 

Whose splendor streamed through the sky afar ; 

In the garden of Jacob a tulip grew, 

The balm of his heart and its sorrow too : 

A fawn of the sweetest odor, that made 

Cathay' envy the fields where his young feet strayed. 

The mother, while earth was her place of rest, 
Dewed the babe's sweet lips from her loving breast. 
When two glad years she had nursed her son. 
Time poisoned her food and her course was run. 



cto 




"ji'Lyi^J'-'y^ 




THE GAMK OF CHANGAN 



modem polo. It was plivrd bj hi 



;n iKr clotc resfmbbnce of ihe Rovil 



^ 


k 


1 


1 




P 


1 


Yusttf and Zulaikha. 403 


1 




In Vusuf only his soul had deUght, 


i 






For only Vusuf his eye grew bright. 


iffij 






liow may 1 tell the boy's beauty? Where 


Ml 






Could Houri or Peri be found so fair? 


ml 






When the moonlight shines on the landscape, none 


^ni 






Would turn to look on a garish sun. 


Wi 






He was a moon in the sphere of grace 


'Bs 






That threw a soft light over life and space : 


|m| 






And yel no moon, but a sun that lent 


'HI 






His light to the moon of the Rrmament 


Wt 






But shall I his light to the sun's compare — 


K 






To the false mirage of the desert air? 


H 






Twas a wondrous ineffable lustre, far 


m. 






Beyond the brightness of things that are ; 


H 






For the One Unspeakable God in that frame 


M 






Lay concealed under Yusura name. 


iBi 






How shall we marvel if, fostered long 


jEN 






In the father's bosom, his love grew strong? 


in 






Zulaikha, envied of Houris, at rest 


w. 






In her virgin bower afar in the West, 


mI 






Ne'er had seen the sun of his beauty gleam, 


ImI 






But was snared by his loveliness seen in a dream 


B 






If Love's dominion no distance can bar. 


^ 






When heart is near heart he can never be far 


1 






ZutAIKHA. 


i 






Thus the masters of speech record. 


m 






In whose bosoms the treasures of words are stored 


w 






There was a king in the West.' His name, 


Wi 








1 






J 


^. 


1 


J 



404 Jumi- 

Taimus, was spread wide by the dram of fame. 

Of royal power and wealth possessed, 

No wish unanswered remained in his breast. 

His brow gave lustre to glory's crown, 

And his foot gave the thrones of the mighty renown. 

With Orion from heaven his host to aid, 

Conquest was his when he bared his blade. 

His child Zulaikha was passing fair. 

None in his heart might with her compare ; 

Of his royal house the most brilliant star, 

A gem from the chest where the treasures are. 

Praise cannot equal her beauty, no ; 

But its faint, faint shadow my pen may show. 

Like her own bright hair falling loosely down, 

1 will touch each charm to her feel from her crown. 

May the soft reflection of that bright cheek, 

Lend light to my spirit and bid me speak, 

And that flashing mby, her mouth, bestow 

The power to tell of the things I know. 

Her stature was like to a palm tree grown 
In the garden of grace where no sin is known. 
Bedewed by the love of her fether the king, 
She mocked the cypress that rose by the spring. 
Sweet with the odor of musk, a snare 
For the heart of the wise was ihe maiden's hair. 
Tangled at night, in the morning through 
Her long thick tresses a comb she drew. 
And cleft the heart of the musk-deer in twain 
As for thai rare odor he sighed in vain. 
A dark shade fell from her loose hair sweet 



i 



^ 


k ^ 


^ 










Yusuf and Zulaikba. 40> 








As jasmine over the rose of her feel. 








A broad silver lablel her forehead displayed 








For the heaven-set lessons of beauty made. 








Under its edge two inverted Nuns' 








Showed, black as musk, their splendid half-moons. 








And beneath them Uvely and bright were placed 








Two Sads^ by the pen of her Maker traced. 








From Nun to the ring of the Mim ' there rose 








Pure as silver, like Alif,* her nose. 








To that cipher her mouth add Alif, then 








She had ten strong spells for the conquest of men * 








That laughing ruby to view exposed 








A Sin ' when the knot of her lips unclosed 








.\t the touch of her pure white teeth, and between 








The lines of crimson their flash was seen. 








Her face was the garden of Irani," where 








Roses of every hue are lair. 








The dusky moles that enhanced the red 








Were like Moorish boys playing in each rose-bed 








Of silver that paid no tithe, her chin 








Had a well with the Water of Life therein. 








If a sage in his thirst came near to drink. 








semble Ihe cjt. 

• The small dtculat pan of ihe l«tei Mtm Is compared lo a 








^.^/(/isalonglt^lighlleller; it stands tor Ihe number one and 






J 


prefixed lo a cipher, notes lo. 

• The letter Sm bears a rough rwemblance to leelh. 

• A labuloui garden in Arabia, like Ihe Garden of ibe Hnperldes 
of the Greeks. 


1 


J 



406 Jami. 

He would feel the spray ere he reached the brink, 

But lost were his soul if he nearer drew, 

For it was a well and a whirlpool too. 

Her neck was of ivory. Thither drawn. 

Came with her tribute to beauty the fawn; 

And the rose hung her head at the gleam of the skin 

Of shoulders fairer than jessamine. 

Her breasts were orbs of a light most pure, 

Twin bubbles new-risen from fount Kafur : ' 

Two young pomegranates grown on one spray. 

Where bold hope never a finger might lay. 

The touchstone itself was proved false when it tried 

Her arms' fine silver thrice purified ; 

But the pearl-pure amulets fastened there 

Were the hearts of the holy absorbed in prayer. 

The loveliest gave her their souls for rue,' 

And round the charm their own heartstrings drew. 

Her arms filled her sleeves with silver from them 

Whose brows are bound with the diadem. 

To labor and care her soft hand lent aid, 

And to wounded hearts healing unction laid. 

Like reeds were those taper fingers of hers. 

To write on each heart love's characters. 

Each nail on those fingers so long and slim 

Showed a new moon laid on a full moon's brim, 

And her small closed hand made the moon confess 

That she never might rival its loveliness. 

Two columns fashioned of silver upheld 



CtD 



A 



Yusuf arid Zulaikba. 



407 



That beauty which never was paralleled, 
And, to make the tale of her charms complete. 
They were matched by the shape of her exquisite feet 
Feet so light and elastic no maid might show, 
So perfectly fashioned from heel to loe. 
If on the eye of a lover she stepped, 
Her foot would float on the tear he wept. 
What shall I say of her gecns and gold P 
Weak were my tale when my best were lold. 
She was not fairer for gold or gem, 
But her perfect loveliness glorified them. 
Each gem the tax of a realm, she set 
On her forehead a glistering coronet : 
And the rubies that hung from her fine ears stole 
Each gaier's senses, and heart and sou). 
A thousand jewels most rich and rare 
Studded the band that confined her hair. 
Not a hand but hers had the art to twist 
The bracelet which circled her delicate wrist. 
What need I say of her jewels more? 
Glistering anklets of gold she wore. 
She moved through her chambers in raiment wrought 
With gold, from Egypt and Syria bought. 
Or with languishing looks on her couch she leant 
In brocades which China and Rum ' had sent. 
She decked her beauty with some new dress 
Each mom that she lit with her lovehness. 
As the moon each night by fresh stars is met, 
So she wore not twice the same coronet. 




Jami. 

Tlic hem of her mantle alone might gain 
A kiss of that foot while kings sought it in vain; 
And no hand but the fold of her robe embraced 
The delicate stem of her dainty waist. 

Maidens like cypresses straight and tall. 
With Peri faces, obeyed her call ; 
And by day and by night in her service stood 
The Houris' loveliest sisterhood. 
No burthen as yet had her sweet soul borne ; 
Never her foot had been pierced by a thorn. 
No breath of passion her heart might stir, 
And to love and be loved was unknown to her. 
like the languid narcissus she slept at night, 
And hailed like an opening bud Ihe light. 
With silver-faced maidens in childhood's hour, 
And gazelle-like playmates in garden and bower, 
Heedless of Fate and its cruel play. 
Sport was her business and life was gay. 
By no fear of peril or woe oppressed, 
Blithe was each thought of her virgin breast, 
For she knew not the fate that the days would bring, 
Oi what terrible birth from the nights would spring. 



The FiRsr VisroN. 

Sweet aa the morning of life, Ihe night 

Was filled like the springtide of youth with delight. 

Each bird was asleep, and each fish in the rill, 

And even the stream of event was still. 

In this garden, the joy of uncounted eyes, 



Yusuf and Zulaikba. 



409 



All were at rest save the stars in the skies. 
Night had hushed the tongue of the tinkling bell. 
And stolen the sense of the sentinel. 
His twisted tail, as he ctirled him round, 
Was a collar to choke the voice of the hound. 
The bird of night had no power to sing. 
For his reed was cut with the sword of his wing 
The drowsy watchman scarce raised his eye. 
And (he palace dome, where it rose on high, 
Wore, as his senses had well-nigh fled. 
The form of a monstrous poppy-head. 
The drummer ceased, and his hand, o'ercome 
By the might of slumber, lay still on the drum. 
Ere the loud-voiced Muezzin calling to prayer 
Had tolled up the beds of the sleepers there. 
Her narcissus eyes ' in deep slumber closed. 
Sweetly the sweet-lipped Zulaikha reposed. 
Tresses of spikenard her pillow pressed. 
And the rose of her limbs strewed the couch of her rest 
While the hair dishevelled on that fair head 
Wrote on the rose with each silken thread. 
The outward eye of the maiden slept. 
But the eye of her spirit its vigil kept ; 
And she saw before her a fair youth stand — 
Nay, 'twas a being from spirit-land : 
From the world of glory, more lovely far 
Than the large-eyed damsels of Paradise are ; 
For his face made their beauty and glances dim. 
And their glances and beauty were stolen from him 
1 Eyes heavy with sleep arc (lequently compared lo the narciiiui 



Yusuf and Zulatkba. 411 

All calm from my bosom, al) sleep from mine eyes. 
By the Piire One who made thee so pure from thy birth. 
And chose thee most fair of the beauties of earth, 
Pity the anguish I suffer, disclose 
Thy name and thy city, and lighten my woes." 

He answered : " If this may content thee, hear , 
In Egypt's land I am Grand Vizir. 
Mid her proudest princes my place is high. 
And the trusted friend of the king am I." 

These words from her idol Zulaikha heard. 
And her spirit, long dead, with new life was stirred. 
In the quickening balm of his sweet voice came 
To her sou! new patience, and strength to her frame 
She rose from her dream, and her heart was gay , 
The cloud of mndness had passed away. 



Pleasant and gay were Zulaikha's words, 
And her voice was sweet as a musical bird's ; 
The seal of the casket of speech she broke, 
And of many a city and country spoke. 
And of Sham and Rum, and sugar ran down 
From her lips at mention of Egypt's renown ; ' 
Of the deeds that her people had done of old. 
Of the Grand Vizir and his stale she lold. 
MTien she spoke of the title she loved so well, 
As falls a shadow, to eanh she fell ; 
She rained down blood from the cloud of her eyes, 
And the voice of her weeping went up to the skies 

' Egypl tMisr) was famous for sugar, which Id India a suit calt< 




Bide him *o Egrpt^ Vta- rrpn. 

And BIT : - O nsKC OB wfaow dvediald Bes 

Dbh dnt a I iwi nl bf ifae csdng skk^ 

Kaf the famr of Henm iaataae axk dqr 

TV fame aad booor ud ^iate ly nnj. 

In the Hook of nnitf AIbcs 107 Sun 

Bf wliow (picador the orvioM Booo H oMdon 

Higher her place than tfic moon's, I ween : 

Her riiadow never the son I« seen. 

ntrer than pearis in their nrgin sbeSs 

Her ^eodor the litstre of stars exceb. 



WL 



Yusuf and Zulaikba. 4(3 

She veils her moonlight from the world, and debars 

From the sight of her beauty the curious stars. 

Only her comb may loosen each tress. 

And her mirror behold her lovehness. 

Only the coils of her hair are blest 

On her delicate foot for a while to rest. 

The hem of her mantle — and only this — 

As she walks in the courtyard her foot may kiss. 

Never her chin has been touched by her maid, 

On her lip not the sugar-cane's finger laid. 

She shrinks away from that flower who throws 

The veil of her beauty aside, the rose. 

From the sweet narcissus her eyes decline, 

For its blossom is heavy and drunk with wine. 

Even her shadow's pursuit she would shun, 

And fly from the lustre of moon and sun. 

To the stream and the fountain she will not repair 

Lest her eye should meet her reflection there, 

&ie dwells in her home behind screen and bar. 

But the fame of her beauty is known afar. 

A hundred kings with their hearts on fire 

In eager hope to her hand aspire. 

From Rum to Damascus beyond the flood 

Each heart for her love has dnink deep of blood. 

But longing for Egypt has filled her breast. 

And she turns her eye and her heart from the rest. 

For Rum she can find in that heart no room. 

And gay Damascus is naught but gloom. 

Her eye toward Egypt has marked the road. 

And the Nile of her tears has for Egypt flowed. 



414 Jami. 

I know but her loDging ; I know not the cause, 
Or tlie charm that to Kgypt her spirit draws. 
Tis her destined home, and from Egypt came 
The dust, I ween, that composed her frame. 
If in thy sight it seem good, I have planned 
To send her to thee in her chosen land. 
If she be not peerless in beauty and grace 
She may hold in ihy palace a menial's place." 

The Grand Vizir heard the speech, anji, amazed. 
To the highest heaven his head was raised. 
He bowed and made answer ; " And what am I 
That a seed of this doubt in ray heart should lie ? 
The grace of thy lord lifts me up from the mire, 
And 'tis meet that my head to the heavens aspire. 
I am the dust which the cloud of spring 
Bedews with the drops which he loves to fling. 
If a hundred tongues like the grass-blades grew, 
My tongues to thank him were all too few. 
The grace of the monarch is guarantee 
That Fortune ever shall favor me. 
IVith the head of my foot, with the eyes of my shoe, 
I would hasten to meet him, his pleasure to do. 
But lo Egypt's ruler, the great and wise, 
[ am bound so closely by duty's ties. 
That, were I absent a single hour. 
I should feel the weight of the sword of his power. 
Then pardon the servant whom duties bind, 
!^nd impute not the blame to a haughty mind. 
Should the king thy lord to my prayer attend. 
Two hundred litters of gold will I send 



OK) 



% ^ 


■ 






^ 


Yusuf and Zulaikba. 415 




With thousands of boys and maidens, all 








Like the Tuba tree,' graceful, and straight, and tall , 








Those boys are noble, and free from vice, 








And purer than children of Paradise, 








Their laughing lips are most sweet, with rare 








Pearl and ruby they bind their hair ; 








With caps coquetiishly set on the side 








Of their heads, on saddles of gold they ride. 








And the maidens are robed like the Houris ; they 








Are pure of all blemish of water and clay. 








Above their bright faces are full-drawn bows, 








And their sweet locks shadow their cheeks of rose 








.\\\ gems and jewels their beauty adorn. 




^ 




And veiled in litters of gold are they borne. 




■ 




Their guides shall be elders, the pillars of Sute, 




■ 




Prudent in council and wise in debate. 




^ 




To receive the fair maid with due honor, and bring 








To my humble home the sweet child of the king " 








He ceased ; the envoy bowed down his head. 








And kissed the ground at his feci, and said : 








" Spring of the glory of Egypt, thou 








Hast added a grace to thy favors now. 








But send no escort ; my lord will provide 








From his ample household a train for the bride 








The boys and the delicate maids who dwell 








In his courts are too many for number to tell ; 








Robes of honor in store has he. 








More than the leaves of a shady tree. 








Showering gems from a liberal hand 








1 Tuba is ihe n»me o( a Me in P»f«di«e. 




d 




1 


: 


^ 


1 


i 



^ 


F 


1 








■ 




Yusuf athi Zulaikba. 417 




■ 


H 


And over each bosom and cheek was spread 




^ 


■ 


The sweet faint flush of a young rose- bed. 






■ 


Orient pearls from their fine ears hung, 




1 




And black bows over their eyes were strung, 




^ 




Pure of all dye as the leaves of the rose 




■ 




In the coo! of the morning when zephyr blows. 




■ 




On tulip blossoms fell scented curls. 




■ 




And on rounded necks was ihe glimmer of pearls ; 




■ 




And a thousand boys with bright eyes that took 




■ 




The heart of a maiden with each long look. 




n 




With red caps sluck on their heads oblique, 








And loose locks shading each youthful cheek. 








Each of his gold-hued garment was vain. 








'Twas soft as the rosebud, and light as the cane. 








Each tress escaping, as loosely it flowed. 








Like spikenard under a tulip showed. 








Their jewelled belts round their fine waists clung. 








And a hundred hearts on their bright hair hung. 








There were thousand horses of noble breed. 








Gentle to saddle, unmatched in speed ; 








With paces easy as rivulets, all 








Fleeter at need than the flying ball. 




^ 




If they saw but the shade of a falling lash, 




■ 




Away from the race-course of Time would they dash. 




■ 




Swift as wild asses they scoured the plain, 




■ 




And like birds of the water ihey swam the mam 




■ 




Their tails were knotted like canes ; the dint 




■ 




Of their strong hoofs shattered the hardest (lint. 




^ 




They flew over the hill like an even lawn. 








But stayed their speed when the rein was drawn 






gB^agjfeS^ifliSfeaiSaifefegajJfe^ 




1 


^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H 



418 



Jami. 



And a thousand camels, a wondrous sight, 
With their mountain backs and their stately height. 
Mountains, supported on pillars, were they, 
And the course of their tempest no hand might stay. 
Like holy hermits, their food was spare j 
Burthens they bore as the patient beat. 
Through a hundred deserts unwearied they wen 
With thorns, as with spikenard and rose, content. 
They tasted no food and they closed no eye, 
But toiled on through the sand at the drivers' cry. 
A hundred loads from the royal store. 
Each the yearly yield of a province, they bore ; 
Two hundred carpets of rich brocade, 
In Rum and Damascus and Egypt made; 
Two hundred caskets of gems most rare, — 
Pearls, sapphires, Badakhshan's rubies were there ; 
Two hundred trays with fine musk therein, 
And amber, and aloe from Comorin. 
Like a meadow in China each spot was bright 
Where the driver rested his camels at night. 

Her father's care for Zulaikha supplied 
A litter fair as the bed of a bride. 
Of the wood of the aloe its frame was made, 
And the well-joined boards were with gold o'erlaid. 
Its gold-»Tought awning was bright as the sun, — 
Jarashid ' never boasted a brighter one. 
Pearl in clusters, and many a pin 
And stud of gold decked it without and within ; 
And finest needlework graced each fold 

'A celebraled Persiaa king, ihe builder of Pcrsepgiii. 



^ 


w ^ 




1 




Yusuf and Zulaikba. 419 




Of the heavy hangings of tissue of gold. 


i 






Thus with imperial pomp and pride 


m 






They carried to Memphis the beautiful bride. 


m 






Her litter was borne by swift steeds, as the rose 


m 






Is wafted by winds from her place of repose. 


in 






Her maidens followed, wilh figures fine 


m 






As the graceful cypress, the plane, or the pine ; 


a: 






With arm and bosom and cheek and hair 


W 






Like jasmine sweet or like jasmine fair. 


M 






Vou had said that the bloom of the young sprmg- 


W 






lime 


m 






Was fleeting away to a distant clime. 


% 






Iram's garden envied the spot which those 


'ffl 






Bright flowers of the paiace to rest them chose; 


n 






Where the boys dismounting their pastime took. 


w 






And the girls from their litters shot many a look, 


M 






And spread the fine net of their beautiful hair 


M 






Till each captured her prey in the silken snare ; 


H 






And each boy shot from his eye a dart 


m 






That enslaved a maiden and touched her heart. 


M 






Here were seen gallantry, glances, and smilea. 


M 






The lover's wooing, the maiden's wiles. 


n 






Lovers and loved were assorted well, 


m 






Those eager to buy and these ready to sell. 


n 






Thus each stage of the journey they passed. 









And Memphis city was gained at last. 


'ra 






Zulaikha— for Fortune now seemed her friend — 


^ 






Had longed in her heart for the journey's end. 


W 






When the dawn should rise on her night of woe 


m 






And the pangs of the parted no more she should know. 


1 


i 


J 




1 



420 



Jami. 



But oh ! black is the niglit that before her lie« ;. 
Tis an age till the sun of her joy shall rise. 

Through the glare of day, through the gloom of night, 
They travelled, and Memphis was now in sight. 
From the city a messenger came at speed — 
Whose hltet the coming pomp should precede 
To bring the glad news to the Cirand Vizir, 
That she whom he looked for was near, was near. 
" Rise up, rise up, and with eager feel 
Thy bliss who approaches go forth to meet." 

The Welcome. 



T9 the Grand Vizir the glad news was brought, 
And he deemed he had compassed each aim he soi: 
He bade proclamation be made, and all 
The army of Memphis obeyed the call. 
That with full equipment and arms complete, 
At the place appointed the hosts should meet. 

From head to fool they were bright to behold, 
Smothered in jewels, and sheen of gold. 
Myriad boys and maidens were there, 
With cheeks of the rose, and like full moons fair. 
Like a palm-tree of gold in the saddle set. 
Showed each youth with his collar and coronet. 
And bright in her charms with their sevenfold aid, 
Screened in her litter of gold was each maid ; 

1 Hi»ma tor Ihe bands ; lurma ot kehl lor Ihe ryes, mum 
the eyebrows : rom-t *nd sapeiab. or white water, (or Ihe face ; 
biaceleu and aokleti. Other enumetuions ue olio given. 



Ight. 




1 


r 


1 








1 


Yusuf and Zulaikba. 421 






i-oudly in triumph glad voices rang 




■ 




As sweet-toned singers in unison sang, 








The harp of the minstrel was strung anew, 




^H 




And the music he made was of triumph too. 




^H 




Of meeting and pleasure the soft flute spoke, 




^H 




And tender thoughts in each heart awoke, 




^^1 




While sorrow fled far at the merry din IfiH 


^^1 




Of the drum, and rebeck, and violin. H 


^^1 




Thus in jubilee bUihe and gay, hH 


^^1 




The escort from Memphis pursued its way. ffl^ 


^^ 




Three stages, as journeys the moon, they passed, 








And the sun of beauty was reached at last. 








To a smooth and spacious meadow they came. 








Studded with thousands of domes of flame. 








Vou had said that the sky had poured down on ihe 








plain 








Its brightest stars in a golden rain. 








There rose a pavilion, girt with a wall 








Of chosen sentinels, high over all. 








Laughed the Vizir as he saw it gleam, 








As the orient laughs with the tirst sunbeam. 








Swift from his steed he alighted and bent 




^ 




His eager steps to the royal tent. 




■ 




The harem warders came forth to meet 




■ 




The noble, and bowed to the earth at his feet. 




■ 




He asked of their lady, and bade them say. 




■ 




What of the weather and toil of the way. 




■ 




Of the princely gifts that were jvith him, those 




^ 




That were fairest and best in his sight he chose : 








Sweet-smiling boys of his own household. 




d 


J 


5- 


A 



422 Ja)m. 

With caps and girdles ablaze with gold ; 

High-bred horses with golden gear. 

Covered with jewels from croup to ear; 

Raiment of satin and woven hair, 

And pearls from his storehouse most rich and rat 

Sugar of Egypt, with care refined, 

And sherbet of every color and kind — 

All on the spacious plain were arrayed. 

And with courteous words his excuses he made. 

He ordered the march at the brcalc of day, 

When homeward again he would bend his way. 



Despair. 

The ancient Hraven delights to cheat 
The children of earth with his vain deceit. 
The heart of the lover with hope he will stay, 
And then dashes the idle phaniom away. 
The fruit that he longed for was shown afar. 
And his bosom will bear through his life a scar. 

A shadow lay on the ground, and near 
Zulaikha's tent stood the Grand Vizir. 
She dropped the rein of patience and prayed 
For one glance at her love with her nurse's aid. 
" thou whose affection through life I have tried, 
I can bear this longing no longer," she cried. 
" Near a cup of sweet water the thirsty lip 
Is maddened with pain if it may not sip." 

The faithful nurse marked the maiden's grief, 
And looked round the wall for a way of relief. 



Yusuf and Zulaikba- 



42> 



With her crafty finger she made a rent 

Like a narrow eye in the cloth of the tent. 

Zulaikha looked through with an eager eye, 

But heaved from her bosom a long sad sigh 

" Ah me ! that so wondrous a fate should befall I 

Low in the dust lies my half-buik wall. 

This is not the youth of my vision, he 

Whom after long troubles I hojied to see ; 

Who seized the rein of my heart and stole 

With his magic power my sense and soul ; 

Who told me his secret and gently brought 

Reason again to a mind distraught. 

Alas ! the star of my hapless fate 

Has left me deceived and disconsolate. 

Palm trees I planted, but thistles grew : 

I sowed Love's seed, but the harvest is rue 

I endured for my treasure long sorrows and toils, 

But the guardian dragon my labor foils. 

I would cull the rose for the precious scent, 

But, alas ! my robe with the thorn is rent. 

1 am one athirst in a desert land, 

Seeking for water and mocked with sand. 

Dry is my tongue with unbearable thirst. 

And the blood from my ferverous lip would burst. 

I see at a distance fair water gleam, 

And I struggle and crawl to the tempting streiu, 

And find no water but sand whereon 

Deluding beams of the bright sun shone. 

A camel am I, on the mountain strayed, 

With a mountain of hunger and toil down-weighed, 



w 


1 


IP 


mfikMrBMMa^M/A«i*Rn^'>^i'^'^^^*^i*AJth3^iMf^ 










m 424 Ji">ii. 


■ 




H| The stones are sharp and my feet are sore ; 


^ 




gl 1 fear to stay but can move no more. 






Hi A form I see with my bloodshot eye, 






mn And 1 deem that my lost companion ia nigh. 






M My weary steps to his side 1 bend : 






all 'Tis a ravening lion and not my friend. 






9 1 1 am a sailor ; my vessel sank. 


^ 




1 ' And I float forlorn on a single plank. 


■ 




II On the restless wave I am tossed on high 


■ 




Ol And low in the depths of the ocean he. 


^ 




!§N A light skiff near me comes on o'er the wave. 






Egl And my heart is glad, for it comes to save. 






^1 Nearer and nearer my rescue draws : 






1 ' Ah ! 'tis a shark with his cruel jaws. 






Sl Ah me ! of unfortunate lovers none 






|| Is helpless as I am, ah no, not one. 






1^ My heart is stolen, my lover is fled ; 






[n A stone lies on my back and dust on my head. 






M O Heaven t pity my many woes 




K 


hD And a door of hope, in thy mercy, unclose. 




■ 


«M If Thou wilt not bring my dear love to my side, 




■ 


vSt O save me from being another's bride. 




■ 


PI Preserve the pure name of the hapless maid, 




■ 


{Sf No polluting touch on her vesture laid. 




K 


b| I made a vow to my lover, mine own, 


1 


^^L HI To keep my love ever for him alone. 


M 


^^H wBm Ah, let not grief my poor heart consume, 


■ 


^^^^ HI Nor give to a dragon my virgin bloom." 


■ 


IbIi Thus she ceased not to sigh and complain, 


■ 


1^1 And teats on her eyelashes hung like rain. 


■ 


^^^^^^^^^^^^^fe- 


fl 



^t 



ifra:«^.e5waaHBd«Bt^ 



Yusuf and Zulaikba. 

Transfixed with anguish her young heart bled. 

And low in ihc dust lay her beautiful head. 

Then the Bird of Comfort ' came near, and there fell 

On her ear the sweet message of Gabriel : 

" Lift thy head, sad maiden, and cease lo repme, 

For easy shall be this sore burden of thine. 

The Vizir is not he whom thou longest to gam. 

But without him thy wish thou canst never attain. 

Through him wilt thou look on thy loved one's eyes. 

And through him at last ihou wilt win the prize." 

Zubiltha heard, and in grateful trust 
Bowed down humbly her head to the dust. 
She ceased from weeping, and strove like a bud 
To drink in silence her own heart's blood. 
Fraught with deep grief was each breath that came. 
But speechless she suffered woe's scorching flame 
Her eyes, though eager, must look and ' 
Till the knot shall be loosed by the hand of Fate 

The Reception. 

With a drum of gold the bright firmament beit 
At morn the signal for night's retreat. 
The stars with the night at the coming of da> 
Broke up their a,ssembly and passed away. 
From that drum, gold-scattering, light was shed. 
Like a peacock's glorious plumes outspread. 

In princely gath the Vizir arrayed. 
Placed in her litter the moon-bright maid. 

1 Galiriel, llie roewangt 



7\ 



« 




426 



Jami. 



Id the vao, in the lear, on every side, 
He ordered his soldiers about the bride, 
And golden umbrellas a soft shade threw 
O'er the heads of Zulaikha's retinue. 
The singers' voices rang loud and high. 
As the camels moved at the drivers' cry. 
And the heaven above, and below, the ground 
Echoed afar with the mingled sound. 

Glad were the maids of Zulaikha's train 
That their lady was free from her sorrow and pain ; 
And the prince and his people rejoiced that she 
The idol and queen of his house should be- 
Alone in her litter she wept her woes, 
And her lamentation to Heaven arose : 
"Why hast thou treated me thus, O Fate, 
And left me unhappy and desolate? 
For what sin against thee, what fault of mine. 
Hast thou left me hopeless to weep and pine? 
Thou stolest my heart in a dream, like a thief, 
And I awoke but to suffer still bitterer grief. 
But if thou hast ruined my Ufe, mine all, 
Why, in my folly, on ihcc do I call ? 
Nay, at the moment when help was near, 
Thou hast torn me from home, and from all thai was 

dear. 
Beneath the weight of one sorrow I bent. 
And thou addest the burden of banishment. 
If thine only aid is to rend the breast, 
Oh ! what must she feel whom thou torturest ! 
Break not the cup of my patience, nor set. 



Yusuf and Zulaihba. 43 

Again to ensnare me, thy terrible net. 
Thine was the promise that, sorro*vs passed, 
I should find sweet rest for my soul at last. 
With thy word of comfort I fain was content ; 
But is this the rest that the promise meant?" 

Thus Zulaikha, weary and faint 
With her burden of sorrow, poured forth her plaint. 
Loud rose the cry of the host meanwhile, 
" Memphis ! Memphis ! the Nile ! the Nile ! " 
Horse and foot onward in tumult hied, 
And rejoicing, stood on the river's side. 

To the Grand Vizir, as by duty taught, 
Trays piled high with treasures they brought, 
To lade the bride's litter with wealth untold, 
Of the rarest jewels and finest gold. 
Each brought his gift, and a mighty cry. 
Welcome I welcome ! went up to the sky. 
On the head of Zulaikha fell pearl in showers 
.^s the rain of spring on the opening (lowers 
Till the lady's htter beneath a heap 
Of countless jewels was buried deep. 
Wherever the feet of the camels trod. 
They trampled jewels, not sand or sod. 
When the spark leapt forth at the courser's dint, 
The shoe and the ruby were steel and Hint; 
In ranks extended o'er many a mile, 
Still scattering jewels, they left the Nile, 
And the rain of pearl from their hands that fell 
Made each fish's gill like a pearl -rich shell, 
.\nd the countless derhams they cast therein 



428 pmi. 

Made the crocodile gleam with a. silver skin. 

Thus the escort in proud array. 
To the prince's palace pursued their way ; 
Nay, 'twas an earthly paradise ; sun 
And moon in their splendor were here outdone. 
In the midst of the palace was set a throne, 
Fairest of all that the world has known. 
The hand of a skilful artist had made 
The glorious seat with fine gems o'erlaid. 
Close to the throne her litter was placed. 
And the seat by that jewel of ladies graced. 
But still no rest to her sad soul came. 
The gold she pressed was as burning flame. 
The peerless maiden was brighter yet 
Than the throne and the crown on her forehead set. 
But the glittering crown that her temples pressed 
Increased the mountain of woe in her breast ; 
They showered pearl on her head like rain : 
It tortured her heart like a flood of pain. 
Pearls, the desire of the maids of the sky. 
Filled with the pearls of her tears her eye. 

!n the battle of Love, who cares for a crown. 
When a hundred heads to the dust go down? 
Who for the loveliest pearl will care. 
When her eye is damp with the dew of despair? 
Shame on the wretch who would value a throne, 
When his love is lost, and he pines alone 1 



T -. 


y 


^ 




R 




Yusuf and Zulaihba. 439 


1 


Envy. 


9 




Sages, who guided the pen of old, m\ 




Thus the story have framed and told : UH 




As Vusuf in stature and beauty grew, |H 




His father's heart to himself he drew ; Bj 




The old man turned from the rest wide H 




To his own eye's apple, his joy and pride ; H 




And to him such kindness and favor showed, ^H 




That the hearts of his brothers with envy glowed. HD 




In the court of the house stood an ancient Uee H 




Whose leafy branches were fair to KC ; 


■j 




In their vesture of green like monk* ihc spray* 


H 




Danced in a rapture of joy and praise ; 


ral 




From the level ground of ihc court it grew, 


mI 




And its stately height a long shadow threw ; 


ra 




Each leaf on the tree was a vocal tongue. 


ra 




Singing a hymn as the branches swung. 






To heaven rose the boughs of ihe topmost stem. 






Whose birds were the angels who rested on them, 






When a son to Jacob by God was given ; 






From that tree that rivalled the Lole tree 'in heaven, 






A tender branchlei sprouted anew. 






And still with the growth of the infant grew; 






And when the toy came to his manhood he 






Received a green staff from the honored tree. 






But for Yusuf, first in his father's eyes, 






A staff from the tree were loo mean a prize ; 






t Tbe Sidrah or LoM tree is the seat oi the angel Gabrl«l in Para- 






<lll«. 




d 




H 


^^^^ 


i 



4}0 



Jami. 



A severed bough were no gift for one 
From his own soul's garden, his darling son. 

One nighl l!ie boy to his father cried ; 
" O thou whose wishes are ne'er denied. 
To the Lord of Paradise offer thy prayer. 
And win me a staff from the garden there. 
That whithersoever my feet may stray. 
From youth to age it may guide my way." 

Humbly tlie father bowed down and prayed. 
And suit to the I^rd for liis darling made. 
Then Gabriel came from the Lole tree's height, 
A topaz staff in his hand shone bright, 
That never had suffered a wound or flaw 
From the axe of Time or from Change's saw, 
Precious in value, but light to wield, 
Splendid with hues of its native field. 
And a voice was heard : " Take the staff I bring, 
Which shall prop, as a pillar, the throne of a king." 

Thus Yusufby Heaven was favored and blest; 
But envy burnt fierce in each brother's breast. 
A hundred wood staves were a lighter load 
For them than this one which the Lord bestowed. 
Fell fancy wrought in each bosom apart. 
And each sowed the seed of deep hate in his heart ; 
He nursed the seedling with tender care, 
But shame was the fruit which the tree should bear. 

YiffiUF's Dream. 
How blest is he who can close his eye 
And let the vain pageants of life pass by ; 



♦ 







^H 




^^^^Hi^l 






Yusuf and Zulaikha. 431 




1 




Untouched by the magic of earth can keep 




^ 


1 His soul awake while the senses sleep ; 








Scorn the false and the fleeting that meets the view, 




1 




And see what is hidden and firm and true. 




^m 




Before the eyes of his sire one night, 




M 




\Vho loved him more than his own eyesight. 








Vusuf his head on a pillow laid, 




^1 




And slept while a smile on his sweet mouth played. 




■ 




But the heart of Jacob was troubled while 




■ 




On that sleeping face he beheld the smile. 




n 




When, damp with the dew of their soft repose. 








Those eyes of narcissus began to unclose. 








And, like his own fortune, the boy was awake. 








Thus to his darling the father spake : 








"Why, O sweeter than sugar, didst thou 








Wear a sugar-sweet smile on thy lip but now?" 








And Yusuf answered : " Father, 1 dreamed, 








And the sun and moon and eleven stars seemed 








To gather about me, high honor to pay, 








.^nd their heads before me in dust to lay." 








" Beware," said the father, " my son, beware ; 








Thy secret vision to none declare. 








Let not thy brothers the story know : 








In a hundred ways they would work thee woe. 








With hatred and envy their heart is stirred ; 








They would hate thee more if the tale were heard. 








The thought of this dream they would ne'er endure. 








For the meaning thereof is too dear and sure." 








Thus, in his prudence the father spoke ; 






: 


But Fate the chain of his counsel broke. 


1 


J 



432 



> 



i 



One with whom Yusuf the secret shared, 

To all the brothers the tale declared. 

The secret that passes beyond a pair, 

Is bruited abroad on the moving air. 

" Yes," said the sage, " but that pair are the lips, 

And no secret is that which beyond them slips." 

The fury of carnage has oft been stirred. 

And nobles have died for a spoken word. 

Wise is the saw of the sage who said, 

"Who heeds his secret will keep his head." 

When the wild bird flies frocn her cage, in vain 

\Vill ye follow her flight to ensnare her again. 

When the tale to the ears of the brothers came, 

They rent their garments with hearts aflame : 

"What ails our father," they cried, "that he 

His ioss and advantage should fail to see? 

What can come of a foolish boy 

But the childish play that is all his joy? 

He works on all with deceit and lies, 

And raises his value in folly's eyes. 

Our aged father his wiles ensnare, 

And life with him wili be bard to bear. 

He rends the bond of affection apart, 

And engrosses the love of out father's heart. 

Not content with the favor his arts have gained. 

He wishes that we, pure- hearted, unstained. 

Should bend our heads and adore in the dust 

The stripling raised high by his father's trust ; 

Nay, father and mother, as well as we : 

What will the end of this madness be? 



Yusuf and Zulaikba. 

\Vc, not this boy, are our father's friends ; 

On us, not on him, his welfare depeods. 

On the hills in the daytime we guard his sheep, 

And our nightly watch in his house we keep. 

Our arm prolecls him from foemen's miglit, 

And we, mid his friends, are his glory and light 

What is there in him but his guile that thus 

His head is exalted o'er all of us? 

Come, let us counsel together and plot 

To drive him away to a distant spot. 

Ne'er has he felt for our griefs and pains, 

And banishment now the sole cure remains. 

Quick to the task we must needs away ! 

Still it is left us to choose the way. 

The thorn that springs fast for mischief should be 

Tom up from the root ere it grow to a tree." 

The Plot. 

When Yusufs brothers, with hatred fired. 

Against the innocent boy conspired. 

Said one : " Our hearts in our sorrow have bled. 

And his blood should flow for the blood he has shed 

When the arm of the slayer is lifted to smite. 

Can ye save your lives by a timely flight? 

Let him die the death, and our task is sped : 

There comes no voice from the lip of the dead." 

" Nay," cried a second, " 'lis not for us 

To compass the death of the guiltless thus. 

Though we check his folly, he may not bleed ; 




^ 


i 


1 


• 






434 Jami. 






We hold, remember, the one true creed. 


■ 






We shall gain oar end if we drive him hence 


■ 






As well as by death-dealing violence. 


^ 






Let us hide him far from our father's eyes 








Where a wild and desolate valley lies ; 








In a waste full of pitfalls, from help afar, 


. 






Where the ravenous wolves and the foxes are ; 


^ 






His only water the tears of despair, 


■ 






And his only bread the sun's scorching glare ; 


■ 






Where the night around him for shade shall spread, 


n 






And thorns be the pillow to rest his head. 








He may linger awhile neath the lonely sky, 








But soon of himself he will waste and die. 








Not a stain of his blood on our swords, and we 








From the sword of his guile and deceit shall be free." 








" Nay, this, my brother," a third broke in, 








" Were the worst of murders and grievous sin. 








Tis better to perish, if die we must, i 








Not of hunger and thirst, but a dagger's thnist. ' 








This is my counsel, which seems more fit. 








To search near and far for a deep dark pit. 








And therein, cast down from his place of pride. 


^j 






In sorrow and darkness the youth to hide. 


^H 






Some travelling merchants may pass that way, 


^H 






And halt at the well at the close of day. 


^H 


K 




They may lower for water a bucket and cord, 


^H 


■ 




And the boy to the air will be thus restored. 


^H 


■ 




Some merchant who looks on the prize will be glad 


^H 


■ 




To take for a son or a slave the lad. 


^H 


I 




Who, carried away to a distant place. 


H 




1 


L 


c 



Yusuf and Zulaikba. 43 

Will vex us no longer with pain and disgrace." 

Soon as he spoke of this living grave, 
The brothers approved of the counsel he gave. 
Unheeding the pit of their muiderous thought, 
The pit of dishonor they wildly sought. 
In their evil purpose they all agreed 
The heart of their father to wound and mislead. 
Then to their labor they turned, each one ; 
And the morrow was Bxed for the deed to be done. 



Deceft. 

Blest are the souls who are lifted above 

The paltry cares of a selfish love ; 

And conquering sense and its earthly ties, 

Are dust in Ihe path of the love they prize ; 

Who add no weight to another's care, 

And no weight of reproach from another hear, 

But in this sad world are resigned to their lot, 

Support their brethren and murmur not ; 

Who sleep with no malice or fraud in their breast, 

And rise as pure from their welcome rest. 

The foes of Vusuf came glad antJ gay 
As they thought of the counsel of yesterday, 
With love on their tongue, in their heart fraud and 

lies, 
Like wolves thai have taken the lamb's disguise, 
In reverent duty their father to see, 
And bowed them down on the bended knee. 
They opened the flattering door of deceit, 



A 


Yiisiif and Zulaikba. 4)7 

But turned away and refused their request. 
"Why should he follow you?" thus he spake; 
" My heart is sad for my darling's sake. 
I fear lest, eager and reckless, ye 
The perils about him may fail to see. 
I fear lest a wolf from the neighboring waste 
Should sharpen his teelh the boy's blood to taste ; 
Should tear with keen fangs each delicate limb. 
And rend my soul as he mangles him." 

Thus was their suit by the father denied i 
Again to move him their arts they tried : 
"Think us not, father, such feeble men 
That a single wolf can o'ermatch the ten. 
We can seize, as we seize a fox, and slay 
A lion making of men his prey." 

Thus they insisted. The father heard : 
He gave no refusal, he spoke no word. 
But his will at last by their prayers was bent, 
And woe brought on his house by his silent consent. 

The Well. 
Shame, conjuring Heaven, whose fell delight g 
Is to bury each mom a fair moon from sight 1 S 
Who givest for prey to the wolf the gazelle g 
That browses at ease in life's flowery dell. K 
When Yusuf in charge to those wolves was given, E 
'■ See, they harry a lamb," cried pitiless Heaven. E 
While yet in the ken of their father's eyes, a 
Each strove, as in love, to be nearest the prize. ft 
One raised him high on his back, and round ffi 


1 

1 


1 






^^^^^^^^1 



458 



Jami. 



His waist another his strong arm wound. 

But the touch of each hand was more rough aiid rude, 

When they came to the desert of solitude. 

From the shoulder of pity the burden they threw, 

Where the flint-stones were hard, and the sharp thorns 

grew. 
Through the pitiless briers he walked unshod. 
His rosy feet rent by the spines where he trod. 
As he walked barefooted by thistle and thorn, 
The silver skin of his hand was torn. 
The tender soles of his young feel bled, 
And, soft as the rose, like the rose were red. 
If he lingered a moment behind the band. 
One smote his fair cheek with a ruthless hand. 
May the vengeful sword on the fierce hand fall 
Which struck the fair fcice which is loved of all ! 
If he walked before them they rained their blows 
On his neck like a rebel's till red wheals rose. 
May each hand be bound to the neck with a chain, 
That gave his soft neck that unmerited pain I 
If he walked abreast in his trembling fear. 
Hard hands on each side of him pulled his ear. 
May the savage have naught but his fingers to clasp, 
Who could hold that ear in his merciless grasp ! 
When he clung to one's skirt with a loud lament, 
He was fiung aside, and his collar rent. 
When he lay at their feet in bis utter dread, 
They laughed as their cruel feet pressed on his head. 
\Vhen his pale lips uttered a bitter cry. 
With jeer and reproach came the harsh reply. 



Yusuf and Zvlaikba. 439 

In the depth of despair with wild words he complained, 

And the rose of his cheelc like the tulip was stained. 

Now in the dust, now in blood the boy lay, 

And heanbroken cried in his utter dismay ; 

" Where art thou, my tatber, where art thou ? Why 

Wilt thou heedlessly leave me to suffer and die? 

See the son of her whom thou lovedst so well ; 

See those who against wisdom and duty rebel. 

What their hearts have devised for thy heart's love, see. 

And how they repay obligation to thee. 

From the ground of thy soul a young rosebud grew. 

And thy tender love fed it and nursed it with dew. 

By anguish and thirst it hes withered and dried, 

Its life is departing, its bright hues have died. 

In a garden kept with each loving device. 

Was planted a scion of Paradise. 

By the blast of oppression the plant is o'erihrown, 

By the thorn and the thistle its height overgrown. 

The moon whose fair light for thy guidance was shed, 

Which the dark gloom of fate ever failed to o'erspread, 

Has suffered such hardship from Heaven on high, 

That it prays the new moon its faint light to supply." 

Onward thus for a league they went. 
He longing for peace, they on slaughter bent. 
He was all tenderness, they were stem ; 
His prayers were warm, their words cold in return. 
They came at last to a well where they 
Rested awhile from the toil of the way. 
Like the grave of a tyrant, deep, dark as night, 
It struck with horror the reason's sight. 



440 Jami. 

Like the moulh of a dragon Us black jaws gaped — 

A terrible porta! whence none escaped. 

A tyrant's dungeon was not so deep, 

Where deadly snakes o'er the prisoner creep. 

The depth was too deep for the reach of sense, 

And wide was its horror's circumference. 

Dire was the centre, the circle despair ; 

The spring was bitter and poison the air. 

For living creature to draw a breath 

In thai terrible pit were hJs instant death. 

No depths could be found better suited to quell 

That rosy-cheeked moon than that horrible well. 

Once more he endeavoured to move them ; again 
Sought to touch their hard hearts in so soothing a strain 
That, could it have heard his sweet pleading, a stone 
Softer than wax in its fibres had grown. 
But the heart of each brother grew harder still, 
More firm the resolve of each murderous will. 
How shall 1 tell it? My heart grows weak ; 
Of the deed they accomplished I scarce can speak. 
On that delicate arm for which, soft and fair, 
The silk of heaven were too rough to wear, 
They firmly fastened a goat-hair cord 
Whose every hair seemed a piercing sword. 
A woollen rope round his delicate waist 
Fine as a hair was securely braced. 
His coat from his beautiful shoulders had slipped. 
And he stood like a rose when her leaves are stripped. 
So they rent the robe of their honor away. 
And clothed them with shame till the Judgment Day. 



ao 




n 


w 


1 






^ 


Yusuf and Zutaikba. 441 






They lowered him down in the deep dark well. 








And sunk in Che water half-way he fell. 








Down into darkness by Fate was hurled 








The sun that illumined the whole wi.le world. 








But a stone jutting out from the rocky side. 








Above the water a seal supplied. 








That humble stone, as high Fate ordained, 








A value greater than rubies gained. 








The bitter water beneath his feet 








At the sight of that ruby, his hp, grew sweet. 








The well shone with the splendor his fair cheek shed. 








Like the face of the earth with the moon o'erhead 








The fragrance that breathed from his flowing hair 








Purged of its poison the deadly air. 








And snakes and venomous creatures fled 








From his radiant face and the light it spread. 








A shirt in an amulet round him slung. 








Which had saved his grandsirc from the flame, was 








hung; 








To Abraham sent by Rizvan,' when the llame 








Like a garden of roses about him became. 








From the Sidra tree Gabriel came in haste. 








And the heavenly gift from his arm embraced. 








The precious shirt from within he drew, 








And o'er that pure body the garment threw. 








Then spoke the angel : " Lone mourner, see, 








1 Abraham was by ihe order of Nimrod Ibrawn into the fits. He 








wore a silken shirt, lent lo him from Hearen, and the flame turned 








inio a bed of rosea. The shirt was transmitted through Itau aod 








Jacob 10 Vusuf. Rirvan is Ihe i>orler o( Paradise. 




mi 






: 




i 



442 Jami. 

The Eternal Himself sends a message to thee : 

' The day is nigh when 1 bring that band. 

Who in false-hearted malice thy death have ptanned. 

Before thy presence to bend and bow 

With hearts deeper wounded than thine is now. 

Then recall to thy brothers iheir crime and shame, 

But keep from their knowledge thy story and name.' ' 

The words of Gabriel cheered his heart, 
And bade his sorrow and pain depart. 
In calm content on the jutting stone 
He sate like a king on his royal throne. 
While the faithful angel, if grief should stir 
The heart of the boy, was a minister. 



The Caravan. 

Blest was the lot of the caravan 

From which, when he thirsted at eve, a man 

From that well in the desert his bucket drew. 

And brought unburied the moon to view ; 

Which three days in the depth had been forced to 

dwell 
Like the moon of Nakhshab ' in Nakhsbab's well. 

On the fourth bright mom when the Yusuf of day ' 
Arose from the gulf where entombed he lay, 
There came by good fortune a caravan, 
Passing to Egypt from ^fidia^. 

1 The ■* Veiled Ptophel of Khoiasati ' 
loDimous txidy like (tie inoon to riie oul 
Turkesbui. 



or a well ai Nikhshab 



Yusuf and Zulaikba. 44 

By the weary length of the way distressed 

They h ilted there and unloaded to rest. 

High fate was theirs to have wandered far 

And found Yusuf himself for a guiding star. 

The weary merchants haUed, and first 

To the well ihey hastened to quench their thirst. 

Happy was he who most speedily pressed 

To that Water of Life and outstripped the rest, 

And, a second Khizar' of high renown. 

Sent through the darkness his bucket down. 

Then Gabriel called to Yusuf, " Shed 

The water of grace on the world," he said. 

"Take thy seat in the bucket a brighter sun, 

And from west to east in thy swift course run. 

Thine horizon shall be the well's circular brim, 

And shall ne'er, while thou shinest, be dark or dim. 

Send forth a beam from thy face, and through 

The whole wide world light shall shine anew." 

'I"hen Yusuf sprang from the stone, and fleet 

As water took in the bucket his seal. 

A strong man drew it, one skilled to say 

What the water he drew from a well should weigh. 

" What may there be in the bucket beside 

The water that makes it so he.ivy?" he cried 

When that moon appeared, from his happy soul 

Burst a cry of rapture beyond control : 

" O joy, that so lovely a moon to illume 
The world should arise from the depth of gloom, 




w 


1 








^ 




Yusuf and Zuiaikba. 445 








He was sold for a trifle to him whose cord 








Had brought hira up to the light restored. 








Malik — so named was the merchant — gave 








A few pieces for Yusuf as household slave. 








Then the traders arising their march renewed. 








And onward to Egypt their way pursued. 




1 




Woe unto those who that treasure sold. 




^ 




And bartered their souls for some paltry gold '. 




■ 




No life, nor the treasures of Egypt, could buy 




■ 




One word from his lip or one glance from his eye. 








Only Jacob his sire and Zulaikha, the true, 




■ 




The priceless worth of that treasure knew. 




■ 




But his worth was unknown lo those blinded eyes, 








And they took a few pence for the blessed prize. 








The King. 








Thus Malik gained with no labor ihe prize 








Thai fell to his fortunate merchandise. 




^ 




Such joy in the sight of his purchase he found 




■ 




That scarcely his foot seemed lo touch the ground. 




■ 




With the hope that was in him his heart was gay, 




^ 




And with double marches he sped on his way. 








Ere to the city of Memphis he came, 








The story was bruited abroad by fame : 








" Malik returns from his journey this morn 








With a slave of the race of the Hebrews born : 








A moon in the zenith of beauty, above 








All others a king in the realm of love. 








In the picture-house of the earth the skies 




1 






H ^H 


: 


5 


1 


J 



446 



Jami. 



Have not seen his peer with their thousand eyes." 

The King of Egypt the rumor heard, 

And the heart within him was strangely stirred : 

" Is not Eg)'pt the garden of beauty ? Where 

Can the eye see roses so bright and fair? 

The roses of heaven would droop from their stem 

And hide iheir shamed heads in the dust before them," 

Then he cried in haste lo the Grand Vizir ; 

" Go, meet the merchants whose train is near. 
Go forth this moon of rare beauty to see, 
And lead him straight to my court with thee," 

The noble obeyed ; the merchants he met, 
And his eyes on that joy of the sou! were set. 
At the sight of that beauty his senses fled. 
And he fain would lie down in obeisance his head. 
But Yusuf raised him as lowly he bent. 
And chid the obeisance he might not prevent : 
" Bow down thy head to none living beside 
Him who set that head on thy neck," he cried, 

He called for Malik am] bade him bring 
The beautiful slave lo the court of the king. 
But Malik answered ; '■ We thought not yet 
In the monarch's palace our feet to set 
We are weary and worn with the length of the way. 
And crave of thy kindness some rest and delay. 
With wakeful nights and with hunger distressed 
We need three days to recruit and rest. 
We will wash off the dust, and refreshed after (oil, 
Will wait on the king without spot and soil," 

The Grand Vizir gave his ready consent, 



^*D 



Yusuf and Zulaikba. 



447 



And again to the king and his duties went. 

Of the beauty of Yusuf he spoke but a word, 

Yet the king's jealous heart at the story was stirred. 

He gave command, and they picked and chose, 

As ye cull from a rose-bed each fairest rose, 

The most beautiful boys that the land possessed. 

In the kingdom of beauty kings over the rest i 

With dainty caps bright with glittering gold. 

And shawls of brocade round their shoulders to fold : 

With a jewelled girdle round each fine waiBt, 

And gay lips sweeter than sugar to taste ; 

That when Yusufs owner should spread the tale 

Of his marvellous beauty, and bring him for sale, 

They to the market should come and display 

Their fair forms and features in rival array. 

Then were he the sun, their more beauty would dim 

His splendor, and chill the demand for him. 



The Bath. 

Past were the promised three days, and on 

The blue heaven of the Nile ' the sun Yusuf shone. 

■' O world-adomer," said Malik, " awhile 

Light with thy splendor the bank of the Nile. 

Bathe in the stream, and the waters shall flee 

More bright with the dust they shall borrow from thee." 

Thai sun of beauty the order obeyed : 
Alone on the bank of the flood he strayed. 



(icqueolly playi upon the !■ 






448 



J J mi. 



His cap of bright gold he removed from his head, 

And his raven locks to the sun dispread ; 

He threw off his robe, and his limbs were bare 

Like the moon that shines through Ihe cloudless air ; 

And his neck and shoulders were tinged ivith a flush 

Like the first faint hue of the morning's blush. 

A bathing-robe round his waist he tied, 

And the cypress of silver hung o'er the stream's side. 

The voice of the heavens cried ; " Blest, blesl 

Is the bank of the Nile which his feel have pressed. 

Ah, if in the pbce of the flood I might kiss 

Those delicate feet, how supreme were the bliss I 

Nay, the sun would bend down from his noonday 

height. 
And give the glad waters his fountain of light. 
Yet he heeds not that fountain of splendor, but laves 
The dust from his limbs in the turbid waves." 

He entered the river, awhile to shine 
In the stream like the sun in the Watery Sign. 
He dipped the fair face thai was bright as a sun, 
As the lotus dips where the sweet waters run. 
He struck the waves with each naked limb, 
And the waters lived at the touch of him. 
He loosened the chains of his hair while the fleet 
Stream made a chain for his silver feet, 
.'\nd to capture the spoil of the river he set 
From ihe moon to the Fish ' a fine amber-sweet net. 



1 That ii, (rom above Ihe earth lo ui 
M the fi»h in ihe rlret. The earth ii 
Bull, and Gau on Mahi or Ihe Fish. 



Yusiif and Zulaikba. 



449 



Now a stream from his hand on his beautiful head, 

Like the Pleiades decking the moon, was shed. 

Now he rubbed the rose where the big drops lay, 

Now combed with his fingers the spikenard spray.' 

Then pure from all dust of the journey he 

Rose up on the bank like a cypress- tree. 

Then he put on his raiment : the rose of his skis 

Was enhanced by the white of the jessamine.' 

About his body his coat he drew, 

Worked with fine fancy of many a hue. 

A gold-bright cap on his brow he placed, 

And girt with a zone rich with jewels his waist. 

l..Dose hung his aiubtosial tresses, and lent 

To the breezes of Egypt the breath of their scent. 

Again in his htter the youlh was placed. 
And they drove to the court of the king in hasie. 
There in front of the palace gate 
High on a throne was the king in state. 
And the fairest boys of the realm stood near 
Expecting when Yusuf himself should appear. 
And a thousand eyes to the litter flew 
As near to the throne of the king it drew. 
It chanced the clouds in their dense array 
Hid the light of the sun that day. 
Then Malik gave order to Yusuf: " Spring 
From the litter and come to the throne of the king. 
Cast the veil from thy face, for a sun art thou, 
And the world shall be gay with the light of ihy brow." 





Jami. 

He spoke ; and the lovely boy sprang lo the ground, 
And shot sunlikc rays on the circle round. 
" "Tis the blessed sun," thought the wondering crowd, 
"That has come from the screen of his dark blue 

cloud." 
But they turned their eyes to the sun, and knew 
It was not his rays that the splendor threw, 
For the dark cloud still o'er the sun was spread. 
And the face of Vusuf the radiance shed. 
They clapped their hands, and on every side 
Rose up a murmur of voices that cried : 
" What, O Heaven, is the brilliant star 
Outshining the sun and the moon by far?" 
And the darlings of Eg>'pt looked down disgraced 
As they saw their beauty by his effaced. 
When the sun shines forth in his splendor, where 
Is the faintest star in the Lesser Bear? 

RECOGNmON. 

Ne'er had it entered Zulaikha's heart 

That one stage kept herself and her darling apart. 

But a secret impulse at work in her breast 

Filled her with longing and wild unrest. 

She strove to calm it, and knew not whence 

the hidden yearning that moved each sense. 
She roamed in the meadow for change and relief. 
For the house seemed a dungeon of care and grief. 
But still each day was weary and slow, 
And she gnashed her teeth in her depth of woe. 



n 


f ^ 


■ 












Yusiif and Zulaikba. 451 




She gathered all luxuries round her in vain, 








For each moment that passed but increased her paia, 








Her fountain of (ears was ouiwept, and her mind 








To change once more and lo home inclined. 








Again in her litter the lady lay 








And hastened back on her homeward way. 








On her journey homeward Zulaikha sped, 








And her road by the gate of ihe palace led. 








And she asked, as the press of people she viewed, 








If Doomsday had gathered the multitude. 








One made answer and said to her : " Nay, 








A youth from Canaan is here to-day ; 








No slave is he, but a splendid sun. 








In the kingdom of beauty the brightest one." 








She raised the curtain, her glances fell 








On the form and features she knew so we!l. 








A long sigh buret from her heart as she lay 








Back in her litter, her senses astray. 








Home with their lady the servants pressed ; 








In her secret chamber they laid her lo rest. 








Again the light in her sad eyes burned, 








And her senses, lost in her swoon, returned. 








" Say, light of my soul," cried the nurse, " say why 








From thy troubled breast came that bitter sigh. 








What reft thy senses away? What woes 








Made thy sweet lips with a cry unclose?" 








" Dear mother," she said, " what reply can I make? 








At each word I say must my bosom ache. 








Thou sawest that youth in the midst of the press, 








While the people were praising his loveliness. 








1 


L - 


J 



452 Jami. 

It is he, my beloved, so long adored. 
My life and my treasure, my love and my lord. 
Whose face in my vision I saw when my soul, 
Lured by his splendor, burst forth from control ; 
For whom body and soul burnt with feverous flame, 
For whom tears of blood from lliese fountains came ; 
Whose dear love led me to this tar land 
When 1 came to this city to yield him my hand. 
By him from ray home and my friends was I lorn. 
And left amid strangers unfriended, forlorn. 
The pangs thou hast witnessed, the long weary sighs. 
The woes that have banished all rest from mine eyes. 
For him all these sorrows were suffered, for him 
My heart was heavy, mine eyes were dim. 
1 know not what grief has assailed me to-<iay, 
But ray woes in my breast like a mountain weigh. 
What court as a king does my fair moon grace ? 
What chamber is blest with the light of his face? 
Whose eye Ukes the splendor his glances shed ? 
And whose house does he turn to a sweet rose-bed? 
Who wins from those fresh lips a life-giving kiss 
.'Vnd beneath the fair cypress reposes in bliss? 
Whose fingers the braid of his tresses entwine? 
Who joys in the shade of thai palm to recline? 
Who would give all her treasure to purchase the priie 
And make dust for his feet of the tint of her eyes? " 
When the loving nurse saw whence the fierce passion 

came, 
She wept like a candle that melts with the flame. 
She Mid : " Lamp of beauty, hide, hide this fire ; 



T ^ 






^^1 




Kksk/ tJMt/ Zulaikba. 453 w 


1 




Conceal thy tonging and sweet desire. cj 






Long hast thou suffered in patience thy woe : pfi 






This day, too, endeavor like patience lo show fflj 






For hope from thy patience at length may arise, M 




1 And thy sun may burst forth from the cloud where he ESI 






lies." m 






The Slavk-mabket. h| 






Blest is the time, of all hours most sweet. 








When two fond lovers, long parted, meet. 








When love's touch bums with a steady ray, 








.\nd the pangs of longing have passed away. 








The beauty of Vusuf so charmed each eye 


ffi 






That thousands of Memphis came round to buy 






^m 


Each one his costliest treasure sold. 






■ 


And ran to the mart with the ready gold. 






1 


They say an old crone for his beauty sighed : 








She caught up a handful of yarn and cried : 








" No gold or silver to show have I, 








But this will admit me with those who would buy "' 








The crier shouted ; " Come, listen to me, 




^^J 




\Vho would purchase a slave from all blemish free ? 




fl 




The first dawnings of grace on his young cheek shine, 




■ 




And his lip is a ruby from beauty's mine. 




■ 




High wisdom's stamp on his brow is impressed. 




■ 




And the gentle virtues have hlled his breast. 




■ 




He speaks no word but the truth alone. 




^M 




And fraud and falsehood to him are unknown." 








The first who spoke in the dense array 






J 


V. 


1 


m 



4;4 



Jami. 



ag of red gold for the boy would pay ; 
A bag containing, a.11 duly told, 
A thousand coins of the finest gold. 
'I'hen others on horseback the market sought, 
And a hundred bags, each of Uke value, brought. 
Another outbid ihem all and would pay 
As much fine musk as the boy might weigh. 
Another priced htm at higher rate 
And offered in ruby and pearl his weight. 
Thus each tendered his wealth in store, 
And the price of Yusuf rose more and more. 

Zulaikha was aware of the strife and stir. 
And the highest offer was doubled by her. 
Their lips were closed, and their faces blank, 
As low on the knee of despair they sank. 
To the Grand Vizir in her haste she spake : 
" The price of the slave to his owner lake." 
He answered : " The musk and the pearl and gold. 
And all the wealth that my treasuries hold. 
Not half the price of the boy would be ; 
And how can the ransom be ]>aid by me?" 

She had a casket of jewels — nay, 
A vault of heaven where the bright stars lay ; 
And of all the gems of her treasure few 
Were less valued than Egypt's whole revenue. 
"Take these jewels," she cried, "O my soul's dear 

gem, 
And pay the price of the boy with them." 
\Vith fresh excuses he met her prayer : 
"The king will buy him, a slave so fair, 



Yiisuf and ZiUaikba. 

And set over all, at liis liousehold's head, 

A youth so true and so gently bred." 

" Hasten," said she, " to the king, and all 

Thy faithful care to his mind recall. 

Say, ' Bar to my joy have I only one. 

That mine eyes may look on no darling son.' 

Enhance my state by the boon I crave. 

And leave me free to command the slave.' " 

Zulaikha spoke, and her lord obeyed : 
Before the king his request he laid. 
Just was the plea, and the monarch bent 
His ear to listen, and gave assent. 
He gave him permission the sbve to buy 
And look on the boy with a father's eye. 

He brought the youth to his home ; and she, 
Zulaikha, at length from her grief was free. 
Thus in a rapture the lady cried 
As her eyes from the pearls of her joy she dried : 
" Can it be real, this bliss supreme? 
Have I found my love, or is all a dream ? 
Ne'er could I hope in the gloom of night 
To look on the dawn of a day so white. 
The moon of triumph her splendor shows : 
Night has no sorrow and day no woes. 
My gentle friend will my secrets share — 
Thanks be to Heaven who has heard my prayer. 
Who is biest like me in this world of grief, 

' Zulaiktu'i nominm 
which a pnciice ol imi 
the plcoiutcs of love ai 




When verdure revisits the faded leaf ? 

I gasped for water, but none was nigh : 

The sun was fierce and the sand was dry, 

From the cloud of grace came the gentle rain 

And bore the poor fish to her native main. 

I wandered lost in the gloom of night, 

My soul on my lips for toil and affright. 

A fair moon rose in the east and led 

My faint steps home with the light it shed. 

I lay on my bed, I was tortured with pain. 

With the lancet of Death in my heart's vital vein, 

When suddenly Khizar appeared in the room. 

And with ^Vater of Life brought me back from the 

tomb. 
Now thanks be to Heaven who has sent me my friend. 
And brought the long woes of my life to an end, 
A thousand lives be that noble heart's prize 
Who brought to the market such merchandise. 
If my jewels are gone, and I gain a rich mine 
Of jewels instead, shall I fondly repine ! 
What are jewels and gems when compared with a soul? 
He is welcome, whale'er they may be, to the whole. 
I recover my soul, and a few stones are lost : 
Whoe'er bought such a prize at so paltry a cost? 
What does he gain by his traffic who sells 
The blessed Isa ' for coral and shells ? ' 
My coral and shells I ha\'e bartered away : 
But Isa the blessed is mine to-day," 




^ 


p 


1 






1 


Yttsuf and Zulaikba. 4S7 






She sifted these thoughts in the sieve of her soul, 




^ 




And let pearls of tears from her glad eyes roll. 








Now she ihought of Vusuf but spoke no word, 








Though her heart with the joy of his presence stirred, 








Again she recounted the woes that were past. 








And her soul rejoiced : he had come at last. 








Love's Service. 








When the prize to the net of ZuUikha came, 








Heaven struck its coin in her happy name. 








'Ihe care of Vusuf was now her task. 








And no higher joy would the lady ask. 








Silk embroidered with gold and brocade 








To suit his stature her care arrayed. 








Gold-wrought coronets, studded zones 








Bright with the lustre of precious stones ; 








For each day of the year a new dress to wear 








She saw provided, and ceased from her care. 








When the breath of morning was fresh with dew. 








With a bright fresh robe to his side she flew. 








When the Lord of the East with red gold was crowned. 








With a new gold circlet his brow she bound. 








Each day that the cypress uprearcd his pride, 








lu varied fashion his zone she tied. 








Changed each morning that sunlight shone 








Stealing the heart thai it looked upon. 








Never two days might the same crown press 








The head of that cypress of loveliness. 








Never, though sweet as the sugar-cane. 






^ _^^^ 



458 



Jami. 



Might he wear the same girdle like it again. 

With a thousand kisses she cried, as she set 

On his temples a ghttering coronet : 

" May the dust of ihy feet be to me for a crown. 

For a ladder to climb the Ull height of renown ! " 

When over his shoulders his robe she drew, 

She communed thus with the vest anew ; 

" Oh, that this body of mine might be, 

To cling to his body, one thread of thee ! " 

The shawl she folded about his breast 

Is amorous words like these was addressed : 

"Ah, how I long for that cypress-tree, 

To be folded close to his heart like thee ! " 

When round his waist she adjusted the zone. 

Id these wild words was her passion shown : 

" Ah, that mine arms were that girdle to fold 

The waist of my love in their clinging hold ! " 

When she combed the locks of his curling hair. 

She found a balm for her sorrow there. 

But ah, from its amber she wove and set. 

To tangle her soul in its meshes, a net. 

For breakfast and supper he might not leave 

The lady's chamber at mom and eve, 

Ever supplied by her tender care 

With varied dishes of daintiest fare. 

Sweet sugar-candy his hps supplied, 

And his teeth were the kernels that almonds hide. 

The fairest fruit that the summer brings in 

Was that silver apple, his rounded chin. 

Now, like her heart as it burnt in the flame. 



Yusuf and ZtUaikba. t 

She gave him the breast of some winged game. 
Now soft fruits which her care had dried, 
Sweet as her lips were, her hand supplied. 
She made him sherbet with sugar sweet ; 
But a flush came o'er her and drops of heat. 
Whaie'er he might fancy, as swift as the thought 
or her own food bosom, Zulaikha brought. 
When the day was done and he fain would close 
His weary eyelids in soft repose, 
A coverlet dainty and gay was spread 
O'er the silk and brocade of his sumptuous bed 
Covered with roses the young rose-spray 
Pillowed on tulip and jessamine lay. 
Then many a story with magic spell, 
To clear the dust from his soul, would she lell. 
When slumber a veil o'er his heavy eyes drew 
She watched in her fever the whole night through. 
Feeding the while on his beauty's lawn 
Her pair of wild roes ' till ihe light of dawn. 
O'er his eyes like the sleeping narcissus she bcnl. 
And inhaled with rapture the young bud's scent 
Now on a lulip her lingers would close, 
Now from the rose-bed she gathered a rose. 
Then she would look on his hair and say : 
" O hair beloved of grace's rose-spray, 
Tears of blood from my sad eyes well 
Because thou, a Dev, with a Peri wilt dwell ! " * 
Thus in her passion she made lament, 



a Dev. vvllb a face fa 



4<30 



Jami. 



Till the long night, black as her hair, was spent. 
Ever busied in cares like these, 
Her day and night passed without rest or case. 
Her constant thought to his wants she gave, 
And, queen of the house, was his humble slave. 

Ah ! fond and weak is a lover, fain 
To toil that the loved one be spared a pain. 
If dust or a thorn in his love's path lie, 
He would sweep it away with the lash of his eye. 
And will wait with his soul in that eye for her 
To bend a kind look on her worshipper. 



i 



The Shepherd. 

Blest is the lover allowed by Fate 

About his beloved to serve and wait. 

All thought of himself to the wind is thrown, 

And his care and time are for her alone. 

Would she have his life? At her feet it lies: 

He kisses the ground that she treads, and dies. 

Would she take his heart ? Straight that heart is filled 

With love's warm blood from his eyes distilled. 

His head is a foot when she bids him rise, 

And he deems her service a lordly prize. 

Oft has a shepherd been known to claim, 
As the guard of religion, a prophet's name ; 
And stronger and stronger in Vusufs heart 
Grew his rooted love for the shepherd's part, 
^oon as the wish of the boy she knew, 
The rein, as he guided, Zulaikha drew. 







J 



n 


w 


^ 






1 


1 


Yms^ and ZmUikbi. 46I : 






She ordend thaw ibOcd a be M 10 bm« 




For the nee or bcrdai^ > (WMt d^ 




With gold Eke Ihe »^hl. «oKB vM ORv 




And bc«ta a the tfafOMb ol Im bseoM hK. 




Ah, bo« the kxva) n bei hwt dot Ac 




Hendf one ihiad of the dbe nghl be ! 




'• UiDesnB rand hii body I auraM twine, ^H 




BolatoochofbishuKlwoaUbenn^inme. ^H 




Bat ah, can I mrii with one ngle hair ^H 




To >dd 10 the weight wtucblhu hand mM bear?" ^H 




Rarea gemi in the dti% the Kt, ^^| 




And pearis soch as nude her own tja » wet : ^^H 




And the preciooi rabies a king would prize ^^| 




Were as worthieM Etoocs in the LmJj's eyes. ^^| 




Then die bade Uic shepherds who lol their d>eep ^^| 




On the grassy [dais and the nwnntatn-stcep ^^H 




Choose bam their Socks, like the Ram ' that feeds ^^H 




Id the heavens, the best of the finest breeds — ^^H 




Lambs fed on spikenard, like the roes of Cathay, ^^^ 




Whom the wolf had ne'er looked on to make his prey. 


H 


■ 




And Yusuf departed to shepherd these, 


W 






Like the spring sun entering Aries. 


H 


^ 




Like a young musk-deer alone, astray, 


S 


■ 




To the lambs in the valley he bent his way. 


H 


■ 




Ziilaikha sent with her shepherd boy. 


H 






T-ike his faithful dog, her soul, patience, and joy, 


n 






And careful guardians about him, all 


Sh 






Charged to watch o'er him lest harm befall. 


i 




- 


» The «Kli«cd rign Ariw. 


1 







4 


? 


1 


i 


gg^gwakBi^rig'd«fc*gfca*^**m^**g*a*?i 


1 


462 J<2m. 




hI Thus, while he pleased, passed his days, and still 








He knew no guide but his own free will. 








He might feed his flock, if he chose, on the plain; 








If he would, in the realm of a heart might reign. 








Yet still in his inmost nature he stood 








Aloof both from kingship and shepherdhood.' 






M Love Repeli-ed. 






Bl He who gives his heart to a lovely form 






gjl May look for no rest but a life of storm. 






9l If the gold of union be still his quest. 






up AVith a fond vain dream love deludes his breast 








As the passionate blood from his heart distils, 








He would see the form that his fancy fills. 








When his tearful eyes have obtained the grace, 








He longs for a kiss and a close embrace. 








If round his darling his arm he throws, 








The thoughts of paning renew his woes. 








Love may not lead us to perfect bliss : 








life is not sweeter for love hke this. 








From the secret grief of the soul it springs, 








And self-earned death is the end it brings. 






SB How should his days in sweet calm pass by 






m^ Who must drink the blood of his heart or die? 






Bl When on Yusuf, seen in her vision, as yet 






W^ No waking eye had Zulaikha set, 






mf One wish alone in her heart might dwell, — 








' Thftt i», hi! n«ure w«» unchanged by Mternal circumslances. 


D 






c 


^^^^^ 





^ 


F 


1 










Yusu/ and Zulaikba. 463 




To look on the form which she loved so weU, 








When the sight of her darhng had blessed her eyes, 








Her bosom yearned for a sweeter prize, 








And her loving arms round that form to wind 








Was the longing tliought of her heart and mind, 








With a kiss on his niby-red lips impressed. 








By his arm encircled, to take her rest. 








When a youth in the spring through a garden goes, j^ 






His heart marked like a tulip, for love of the rose, 








First on its petals he looks with delight. 








And then plucks the lair flower that has charmed his 








sight. 








With winning art would Zulaikha woo ; 


1 






But Yusuf far from her gaie withdrew. 








Tears of hot blood would Zulaikha shed ; 








But her tears were idle, for Yusuf fled. 








Zulaikha's soul with deep wounds was scarred : 








Bui ihe heart of Yusuf was cold and hard. 








Still on his cheek would Zulaikha gaze ; 








But Yusuf never his eye would raise. 








For a glance from her darling Zulaikha burned ; 








But Yusufs look from her look was turned. 








His eye he kept lest his heart might err. 








And no fond glance would he bend on her. 








What rest has the lover who pines alone. 








If his darling's eye may not meet his own? 








He sheds his tears, and he heaves his sighs, 








Hoping to gaze on his loved one's eyes. 








If still those eyes to his love she close, 








With the blood of his heart he must weep his woes, 


1 


J 



464 



Jami. 



When this heavy load on her bosom lay 
Zuiaikha wasted from day to day. 
In the chilling autumn of pain and grief 
The tulip banished the pink rose-leaf. 
Under the weight of her sorrow she sank. 
And the stately young cypress tree withered and shrank. 
Gone was the splendor her lips had shed. 
And the light that had shone from her cheek was dead. 
Faint and weary she hardly through 
Her long sweet tresses her fingers drew. 
Scarce would she look at her mirror ; she 
Kept her eyes bent down with her head on her knee. 
No borrowed bloom on her cheek was spread, 
For the blood that she wept from her heart was red. 
The world about her was black, and why 
Should she darken her orbs with the jetty dye? 
If under those lids the dark tint had Iain, 
The tears that she shed would have washed them again. 
U'hen Zulaikha's heart with her wound was torn 
She rebuked her spirit with queenly scorn : 
" Shame on thee ! Disgrace on thy name thou hast 

brought 
By love gf the slave whom thy gold has bought. 
A lady thou on a princely throne, 
Wilt thou stoop to make love to a slave of thine own? 
The chains of thy love on a monarch fling : 
A prince's daughter should love a king. 
But of all that is strange 'tis most strange that he 
Should shrink from love offered by one like thee. 
If the dames of Memphis but knew thy shame, 



Yusuf and Zulaikba. 



465 



U'here were the end of their scom and blame ? ' 

Thus spoke Zulaikha ; but stitl she felt 
That he alone in her fond heart dwelt. 
Him she could not banish, but strove awhile 
To charm her pain with this simple guile. 

When the loved one possesses the lover's soul, 
Can he tear himself free from her sweet control? 
You may rend his heart from his body, yet 
His faith to his love he will never forget. 
The words of the love-stricken bard are true : 
" Musk will keep its scent and the rose its hue 
And how may the lover have power to part 
From the soul of his soul and the heart of hia heart?" 



I 



The Messenger. 

In course of long sorrow Zulaikha knew 

That her nurse was faithful and helphil and true 

" Thou hast served mc often," 'twas thus she prayed , 

" Help me again, for I need thine aid. 

To him as my messenger take thy way, 

Be thou mine eloquent tongue, and say : 

' Delicate plant, ever tended with care, 

lovely with blossom but wayward as fair; 

In the garden of beauty no cypress tree 

Lifts up its head to compare with thee. 

Moulded from spirit and soul was the clay 

Wherein was planted thy Sidra-spray. 

When the green leaves came on each growing bough. 

They said : " The fairest of trees art thou." 




Since the bride of Time was a mother, she 

Was never made glad by a child like thee. 

The eye of Adam was bright at thy birth, 

And the bloom of thy cheek made a rose-bed of earth. 

For none of the children of men is so fair ; 

No Peri has beauty with thine to compare. 

If thy lovehness shamed not the Peris, why 

Should they hide in a comer when thou art nigh? 

Angels enthroned in the heavenly height 

Bend their heads to the ground when thy face is in 

sight. 
If, by favor of Heaven, so high is thy place. 
Have mercy and show thy poor captive grace. 
They say that Zulaikha is witchingly fair. 
But ah, she has fallen a prey to thy snare. 
She has carried from childhood the wound in her 

breast 
Which for many long days has deprived her of rest. 
In three nightly visions thy face was shown. 
And no peace in her heart from that time has she 

Now chained like the waves of the wind-rippled sea. 

Now roaming ere morn like the zephyr is she. 

She is worn by her sorrow as thin as a hair. 

And her longing for thee is her only care. 

All the gold of her life for ihy sake has she spent ; 

Have pity at last : it is sweet to relent. 

Pure and fresh is the Water of Life on thy lip : 

What harm if a drop from the fountain she sip? 

With full clusters laden, what harm to allow 



4 



ijr 



Yusuf and Zulaikba. 



467 



One taste of the fruit that hangs ripe on the bough? 
On thy niby lip kt her feed her fill. 
And perhaps the wild storm of her breast ml] be still 
Let her pluck the dates from that palm-tree's height 
Or lay down her head where thy foot may light. 
What wilt thou lose of thy rank, my king. 
If thine eye one glance oa ihy servant fling? 
In all the pride of her station, she 
The least of thy handmaids would gladly be.' " 
He heard the speech. In reply to the dame 
From his ruby lips opened this answer came ; 
" Skilled in the secrets thou knowest so well, 
Cheat not my soul with thy ravishing spell. 
The slave of Zulaikha and bought with her gold, 
My debt for her kindness can never be told. 
To this stalely mansion she raised my clay, 
And nurtured my soul and my life each day. 
If I counted her favors my whole life through, 
I never could pay her the thanks that are due. 
On the line of her pleasure my head I lay, 
And I wait ever ready to serve and obey. 
But warn her never to hope that I 
My God's commandment will break and defy. 
Ne'er let her tempt me in hope to win 
The soul which I strive to keep pure from sin. 
I am called his son by the Grand Vizir ; 
He counts me true and my love sincere. 
Shall I, the young bird whom his care has bred, 
Bring shame on the house where I long have fed? 
God in various natures has sown the seeds 



Janii. 

Of divers wishes and thoughts and deeds. 
The pure in nature will fear disgrace ; 
But base are his actions whose birth is base. 
Can 3 dog be bom of a woman ? Where 
Does barley wheat or wheal barley bear? 
In my bosom the secrets of Jacob dwell, 
And my heart keeps the wisdom of Gabriel. 
Am I worthy of prophethood ? Well I know 
To holy Isaac that hope I owe. 
A rose am I and a secret I hold ; 
In Abraham's garden my petals unfold. 
May sin never drive me — forbid it, God ! — 
Aside from the path which my fathers trod. 
Bid Zulaikha spurn the wild thought, and free 
Her own kind heart from the sin, and me. 
My trust in the God whom I serve is sure 
To keep my life undefiled and pure." 

ExoreEs. 

The answer was brought to Zulaikha ; despair 
Made her senses as wild as her own wild hair. 
From her eye's black almond there came a flood 
Of thick tears mixed with her own heart's blood. 
She reared up her stately cypress, and flew 
Till its shade o'er the head of her darling she threw. 
" My head," she cried, " at thy feet shall be. 
But ne'er shall my breast from thy love be free. 
I love of thee throbs in each hair of my head : 
If-thought and self-feeling are vanished and dead. 



n 


W ^ 






1 


Yusuf and Zulaikba. 469 






That vision of thee is my soul, and the snare 




■ 




Of thy love is the collar which slave-like I wear. 




■ 




Have I a soul? 'Tis but longing for thee ; 




■ 




A body? Its spirit is hasting to liee. 








But how of the state of my heart shall I speak ? 








'Tis one drop of the torrent that pours down my check 








In the whelming sea of thy love I drown : 








Its waters rush o'er me and weigh me down. 








When the leech with his lancet would ease my pain. 








Love of thee, and not blood, gushes forth from the 








Then Vusuf wept at her words. " Ah, why 








Those tears?" said Zulaikha, and heaved a sigh. 








" Thou art mine own very eye, and while 








Tears of sorrow are dewing il how can I smile? 








For each big drop from thine eye that flows. 








A flame of lire in my bosom glows. 








A miracle this of thy beauty, that turns 






Water itself into flame that burns," 








He saw her anguish, he heard her sighs. 








And the tears flowed down from his lips and eyes : 








" My heart is broken," he said, " when I see 








How woe ever waits upon love of me. 








My aunt's foolish love was my earliest grief. 






For it made me appear to the world as a thief. 






Loved by my father I still was unblest, ^ 






For envy grew fast in each brother's breast. 








From his sight they banished his favored child, 








And to Egypt's land have I come exiled. 








And now must the heart in my bosom bleed 




^ 


1 

M 


^ — ...........IIHWIIL- 



% 


^ 






1 


Yusuf and Zulaikha. 471 




There thou commandest and I obey. 








More than such duly forbear to claim ; 








Make not thy love my dishonor and shame. 








Assign me some labor that far from thy side 








My days still for thee may be occupied. 








Against thy light orders I will not rebel. 








But remember thy bounties and serve thee well 








By faithful service a slave like me 








Made glad by kindness at length is free. 








True service rejoices a master ; but still 


m 






A slave he continues who serves him ill." 


m 






" Rare jewel," she answered, " compared with thee 


M 






The meanest slave's rank were loo high for rac 


w 






For each slight task, when my voice is heard. 


M 






A hundred ser\-anls obey my word. 


^ 


1 




Their ready service can I refuse, 


m 


^ 




And thee for the task or the message choose? 


M 


■ 




The eye is counted of higher worth 


m 


■ 




Than the foot which is fashioned to tread the earth 


n 


■ 




Thorns in the path of thy foot may lie. 


1^ 


■ 




But lay not upon them thy precious eye." 


m 


■ 




Again said Yusuf: " Dear lady, round 


m 


^ 




Whose heart the bands of my love are bound, 


K 






If thy love like the light of the morn be true. 


ra 




^_ 


Only my will must thou seek to do. 


m 




■ 


My wish is only to serve thee ; thou — 


m 




f 


Or thou art no friend — must the wish allow. 


m 






To please the heart that he loves, a friend 


M 






Regards as his being's true aim and end. 


m 




J 


'Neath the foot of friendship his will he sets, 


1 


1 

J 



472 



Jami. 



And self in the love of his friend forgets." 

He spake in the hope that a task might bar 
All converse with her and keep him afar. 
He knew that her presence was trouble and fear : 
In distance was safely, and woe to be near. 
In fire and tempest the woo! that flies 
^Vhen it may not contend with the flame is wise. 



Fresh Coiwsel. 

Deep in despair was Zulaikha, stain 

With the love of the boy whom she wooed in vain. 

One night she summoned her nurse lo her side, 

Where gently she bade her be seated, and cried : 

" Strength of this frame when my limbs are weak, 

Lamp of my soul when thy light 1 seek, 

Thy nursling owes thee each breath thai she draws ; 

If she lives, the sweet milk of thy love is the cause. 

Love more than a mother's, too deep lo be told. 

Has raised me up to the rank I hold. 

How long must I pine with my fond bosom scarred, 

How long from that soul of the world be debarred? 

Wilt thou not aid me, and tenderly guide 

My feet to the harbor that still is denied? 

What profits it me tiiat my palace walls hold 

My friend and myself, if that friend is so cold ? 

The lover, whose darling refuses to hear. 

Is far from his love, though he seem to be near. 

If spirit from spirit be still far away. 

What fmit has the meeting of water and clay?" 



1 


p ' 


■ 




i 






Yiisu/ and Zulaikba. 47} 


1 






" Sweet child of the Peris," the nurse replied. 


i 






"Though what were a Peri if set by thy side? 


i 






Goti gave thee thy beauty to steal from the wise 


3 






Their heart and their face with thy ravishing eyes, 


n 






If a painter of china thy form portrayed, 


3 






And hung in a temple the picture he made, 


M 






The very idob to life would spring. 


i 






And their souls be the slaves of so fair a thing 


9 






On the mountain height if thy cheek were shown. 


i 






Love would throb and thrill in the hard flint stone. 


i 






When to the garden thy steps are led. 


B 






liach dry tree raises his amorous head. 


ffi 






Each fawn on the plains when thy form she spies. 


ra 






Would sweep thee a path with the fringe of her eyes 


ffl 






When the charm of thy Up dropping sugar is heard, 


M 






From river and sky come the fish and the bird 


m 






Why art thou sad, when such beauty is thine? 


m 






Why yield to thy sorrow, and bitterly pine? 


H 






Shool out from that eye but one arrow, and thou 


m 






Wilt conquer the boy with the bow of thy brow 








Coil but a lock of those tresses, his feel 








Will be caught in that beautiful snare when you meet " 








" How can I tell the cniel scorn," 








Zulaikha said, " that I long have borne ? 








Can 1 show my beauty to one whose eye 






■ 


Is bent on the ground when my step is nigh? 






■ 


Were I the moon, he would turn away : 






w 


The sun, he would shrink from his golden ra). 








If, his own eye's apple, I lent him light. 








Scarce would he welcome the boon of sight. 






J 




J 



474 



Jami. 



Ah ! if a glance on mine eye he would throw, 
The pangs that 1 suffer perchance he might know. 
Those griefs woulil finil place in his heart ; but he 
Would never languish for love like me. 
"Tis not only his beauty that kills me; no, 
'Tis the cold, cold heart, where no spark will glow. 
Ah ! if but a pang for my sake he had fell, 
Thus with my lover I never had dealt," 
"Thou whose beauty casts on the sun a shade" — 
The nurse to her lady this answer made — 
" I have wrought a plan, and I trust that rest 
Will at length be thine from the thought in my breast. 
Bring forth thy treasure stored up of old. 
Lade a camel with silver, a mule with gold. 
I will build a palace like Iram fair. 
And a skilful painter shall labor there 
To paint on the walls with seductive charms, 
Zulaikha folded in Yusufs arms. 
If, for a moment, he visit Ihe place, 
He will see thee locked in his own embrace. 
Then will he yearn for thy touch, and at length 
The love of thy beauty will grow to its strength. 
Soon wil! he yield with his senses on fire, 
And naught will be left for thy heart to desire." 
She heard the counsel : her heart was bold : 
She brought forth the stores of her silver and gold ; 
And her wealth, fond fancies therewith to build. 
She gave to the nurse to be spent as she willed. 



n 


(P ^ 


g^jaaggsA^»«*-ig«tiat«JHriyAlilfflll ' 








Yusuf and Zulaihha. 475 








Tke Palace. 








They who raised the dome of this story say 








That the nurse, whom the plan of her brain made gay, 








Called in a wise master, his aid to lend, 








With a hundred arts at each finger's end ; 






K 


A skilled geometer, trained and tried, 






■ 


Through the maze of the stars a most (rusty guide. 






■ 


He had learned his figures from Almagest,' 








And his problems were troubles to Euclid's rest. f,^ 






If he found no compasses ready at hand. 








Two fingers drew deftly the circle he planned, 








And the lines that he wanted most straight and true 








Without the help of a rule he drew. 








He had mounted up to the seventh sphere. 








And built in Saturn a belvedere. eBffl 






If his hand but turned to the mason's saw, gf 






The stone grew soft as the clay for awe. 








When to architecture he turned his thought. 








Wondrous and fair were the works he wrought. 








The endless plain of the world on the space 








Of his finger- nail he could truly trace, 








And with heightened charm in ihe sketch he drew 


1 






The shape of a fairer creation grew. 








There was Ufe and soul in the drawing when 








The lines were sketched by his artist pen. 








If his fingers had graven a bird of stone, 








It had risen up in the air and flown. 
















AI Mtfult. iLboul Sod A . n. 












J 


^. 


J 



476 



jami- 



By the nurse's order his hand of gold 

Began the work on the plan she told. 

There was hope in the sheen of the polished walls, 

And the dawn of bliss gleamed through the stately 

halls. 
The brightest marble adorned the floor, 
And ivory shone on each ebony door. 
Within the palace were chambers seven. 
Id number and sheen like the stories of heaven. 
Pure and polished and fair to view. 
Each wrought of stone of a different hue ; 
The seventh, fair as the seventh sphere — 
All words, all painting would fail me here — 
Forty gold pillars upheld, inlaid 
With jewels, and beasts and birds portrayed. 
Against each column a musk-deer leant. 
And stored in the goid was the precious scent ; 
And peacocks wrought in pure gold displayed 
Their jewelled plumes in the long colonnade. 
But a special marvel, eclipsing them, 
Was a shady tree with a silver stem. 
Never a man might its like behold. 
With leaves of turkois and boughs of gold. 
On each branch was a bird, a wonder of skill, 
With emerald wings and a ruby bill. 

The painter there, to his orders true, 
The forms of Zulaikha and Vusuf drew, 
Ukc lovers both of one heart and mind, 
With the arm of each round the other twined. 
Like heaven was the ceiling, for wrought thereon 



1 


r 


n 


1 






■ 




Yusuf ana Zulaikba. 477 




1 




The sun and the moon in their glory shone. 




■ 




In the prime of Spring on the walls outspread 








To the wondering view was a bright rose-bed, 




^H 




And the eye might mark in each narrow space 




1 




The rose-sprays twined in a close embrace. 








Wherever the fool on the carpet stepped 








Two lovely roses together slept. 








Search through the palace, no spot was there 








But showed a type of that beauteous pair. 




1 




Under the foot, overhead, and around, 




^ 




An emblem of two happy lovers was found. 




-■ 




The love of Zulaikha still grew meanwhile, 




a 




And rose each day with the rising pile. 




^ 




As the idol-house met her eager gaze. 








With fiercer fire was her heart ablaze. 








There thrills a new pang through the lover's breast 








When he looks on the picture of her he loves best. 








The fair lines of her features his woes recall. 








And he sinks in his sorrow love's helpless thrall. 








In the Palace. 








Zulaikha opened her hand and decked 








The finished work of the Architect. 








Tissue of gold on the floor was strown, 








And its beauty enhanced with a golden throne. 








Jewelled lamps on the walls were hung, 








And odorous herbs were beneath them flung, 








She gathered together all things most fair. 








And nnrolled the carpet of pleasure there. 






.1 


^^^ 


J 



478 



Jami. 



But amid the charms of the sumptuous hall 
She longed only for Vusuf, far dearer than all. 
A heavenly palace is dark and dim 
To a lover whose darling is far from him. 

She would summon Yusuf, once more they would 
meet : 
She would set bim high on a princely seat, 
She would woo his beauty and win success 
With her tender guile and her soft caress. 
Or feed on his lips and beguile her care 
With the tangled locks of the rebel's hair. 
But to conquer his heart she would add a grace 
To her peerless form and her perfect face. 
Her beauty needed no art, and yet 
A current stamp by its aid was set. 
The rose of the garden is fair lo view. 
But lovelier slili with her pearls of dew. 

She freshened the tint of her roses and spread 
A livelier hue where a bud was dead. 
She darkened the line of her eyebrows, so 
To curve the new moon to a full rainbow. 
Her hair, like the musk of China, which fell 
In long black tresses she braided well. 
And the pink of her delicate neck between 
The coils that hung over her shoulders was seen. 
She prepared the spell of her witching eye. 
And darkened the lid with the jetty dye. 
She set here and there a dark spot on her cheek, 
And these were the words that her looks would speak : 
" Thy face is so fair, love, that I at the view 




Yusuf and Zulaikba. 



479 

Consume, heart and soul, like the seeds of the me " ' 

Her fingers deftly with henna she stained, 

That his heart thereby might be caught and detained , 

But a painter colored her palm with care. 

For with this a picture she hoped to snare. 

The jujube's tint, on her filberts spread, 

Spoke of tears of blood that her eyes had shed. 

The fair new moon ' of each delicate nail, 

Came full into sight from the shrouding veil, 

That the new moon ' of bliss might at length appear 

And announce that the feast of her joy was near 

Beside her cheek was an earring set, 

And a moon and a star in conjunction met. 

Ah, might that meeting herself unite 

With the moon of the Faith, the wide world's delight ! 

Across her bosom, like sweet flowers grown 

To perfect beauty, a scarf was thrown. 

Then she drew on a delicate smock and her skin 

Filled with roses the folds of the jessamine, 

Which looked to the eye like a stream that flows 

Over a garden of tulip and rose, 

A wondrous stream, of tine silver made, 

UTiere two fishes * al rest on two anns were laid 

On each wrist a fair bracelet shone to enfold 

Each glittering fish with a collar of gold. 

So by her cheek and her hand was it shown 

> The seeds are black and &re burni as charms. 
'The while ot the nail. 
• The appearance of 
Mussulman Lent, is eop 
' Her long shapely hi 



480 



Jami. 



That her charms from the moon to the Fish ' were 

known. 
Next the lady her form arrayed 
In precious tissue of China brocade. 
She shone so bright in ihat robe, Chinese 
To her as an idol had bent their knees. 
On her jet-black gamer of hair was set, 
Of pearl and gold mingled, a coronet. 
No peacock, proud of his jewelled plumes. 
Could move more bright through the splendid rooms. 
She reckoned on conquest, for who could withstand 
The charms seen in the mirror she held in her hand? 
Those charms she assayed, and the mirror told 
That the beauty she trusted was current gold. 
As she thought of her treasures her joy rose high. 
And nothing was wanting save one to buy. 

She sent her maidens and bade them call 
Yusuf to visit her new-built hall. 
He came, bright, noble, and mild, like the sun 
And the moon and Mercury joined in one. 
No mixture of clay made his nature base. 
And light, all light, were his brow and face. 
One glance from that eye, and the world is aglow : 
He speaks, and all nations his utterance know. 

Zulaikha saw, and the flames rose high. 
Like the spark that falls where the reeds are dry. 
" Purest of creatures, thou lamp to guide 

e eyes of those who see best," she cried. 



I Her ch«k is ihc w 



e the earth, ud her hand the Flih 



i 


IF 


1 




i 






Yusuf and Zulaikba. 481 








" servant faithful anil prompt to obey, 








High favor and grace should thy care repay. 








Thy dutiful love I can never forget, 








And my glory and pride is ray collar of debt, 








Come, and to-day will I labor to show 








Some slight return for the debt I owe : 








Nay, long in the record of time shall live 








The meed I bestow and the thanks I give." 








With gentle charm and resistless sway 








To the first of the chambers she led the way. 








Soon as the door of pure gold he passed. 








With the lock of iron she closed it fast. 








The door she closed, but the secret nursed 








Deep in her heart from her hps outburst. 








Thus she addressed him : " thou, the whole 








Wish and desire of my hungry soul. 








Thy vision appeared in my dreams and beguiled 








The sleep from mine eyes when 1 yet was a child. 








That vision brought frenzy and anguish to dwell 








Forever with me ; I loved thee so well. 








Ere yet 1 had seen thee, to find thee here 


i 






I came from my country and all that was dear. 








A helpless exile 1 sat and grieved. 








And no sweet comfort my woes reheved. 








After long pain I was blest to behold hI 






Thy face ; but hope fled, for thine eye was cold. ^ 






Look on me no longer with eyes so stem : itnl 






Oh, one word of love, one word, in return ! " itSlI 






He bent his head as he answered : " Thou E^l 




J 


To whose bidding a hundred high princes bow. Era 


J 



482 



Jami- 



Release me from this sore burden of woe. 

And freedom of heart on thy slave bestow. 

Dear lady, longer I would not be 

In this curtained chamber alone with thee, 

For thou art a fiame, and the wool is dr^' : 

The wind art thou and the musk am I, 

Is the wool secure when the flame bums fast? 

Should the musk be left to the boisterous blast?" 

His eager words to the winds she threw ; 

To the second chamber the boy she drew. 

Again she fastened the door : again 

The heart of Vusuf was rent with pain. 

She lifted the veil of the days gone by 

And poured out her grief with a bitter cry : 

" How long witt thou scorn me, Oh ! thou more sweet 

Than my soul, and rebel when I fall at thy feet? 

I lavished my treasure to buy thee, I gave 

My faith and my prudence to make thee my slave. 

For I hoped in my heart that, pledged to obey, 

Thou wouldst be my comfort and joy and stay. 

But no order I give thee wilt thou fulfil. 

And thou seekest each path save the path of ray will." 

"Sin is not obedience," he answered; "shame 

Ne'er may be linked with true duty's name. 

Each act defying the Master's law 

Is in true service a breach and flaw ; 

And never mine be the power or will 

To break His law by a deed so ill." 

Onward from chamber to chamber they strayed, 

And in each for a little their steps delayed. 



Yusuf and Zulaikba. 483 

New arts of temptation in each she phed, 

In each new magic and charms were tried. 

Through six of the rooms she had led him, still 

She won not the game ' though she played with skill 

Only the seventh was left : therein 

Lay her strongest hope that at last she might wm 

In this way was nothing of dark despair, 

VoT black to her eyes seemed while and fair. 

If no hope from a hundred doors appears, 

Eat not thy heart nor give way to tears. 

For yet one door thou mayst open and see 

A way to the place where thou fain wouldst be 

Flight. 

These are Ihc words of the bard who sings 

This ancient story of mystic things. 

To the seventh chamber iheir steps they bent. 

And Zulaikha cried in her discontent : 

" Pass not this chamber unnoticed by, 

And lay thy foot on this loving eye." 

He entered and sat where she bade him : again 
She fastened the door with a golden chain. 
No spy, no stranger might there intrude 
To break the charm of the solitude. 
Twas made for the loved and the lover alone, 
And the dread of the censor was there unknown 



484 Jami. 

The loved one's beauty was there more bright. 
And the lover's heart sang a song of delight. 
No more was the bosom's soft flame concealed, 
And the spirit of love had a limitless lield. 

Full, eyes and heart, of the flame she fanned, 
She seized in wild passion her darling's hand, 
And with gentle magic of words most sweet. 
Half led and half drew his slow steps to a seat. 
She threw herself there by his side. Then broke 
A fl-ood of hot tears from her eyes, and she spoke : 
" Look on me, look on me once, my sweet : 
One tender glance from those eyes, 1 entreat. 
Then if the sun saw my glad face, he 
Moon-like might borrow new light from me. 
How long wilt thou see ray poor heart's distress? 
How long will thy heart be so pitiless? " 

She told her love, and her sorrow woke 
With a pang renewed at each word she spoke. 
But Vusuf looked not upon her : in dread 
He lowered his eyes and bent his head. 
As he looked on the grotmd in a whirl of thought 
He saw his own form on the carpet wrought. 
Where a bed was figured of silk and brocade. 
And himself by the side of Ziilaikha laid. 
From the pictured carpet he looked in quest 
Of a spot where his eye might, untroubled, rest. 
He looked on the wall, on the door ; the pair 
Of rose-lipped lovers was painted there. 
He lifted his glance to the Lord of the skies : 
That pair from the ceiling still met his eyes. 



i 



Yusuf and Zulaihba, 

Then the heart of Vusuf would fain relent. 

And a tender look on Zulaikha he bent, 

While a thrill of hope through her bosom passed 

ITiat the blessed sun would shine forth at last. 

The hot tears welled from her heart to her eyes, 

And she poured out her voice in a storm of sighs : 

" List to my prayer, thou sweel rebel, and calm 

The pangs of my heart with thy healing balm. 

Thou art Life's Water : these lips are dry ; 

Thou art life forever : I feint and die. 

As thirsty eyes when no water they see, 

.As (he dead without hope, so am I without thee. 

For many years has my heart in its love for thee bled. 

And, fasting, outworn, I have tossed on my bed, 

Ob, let me no longer in misery weep : 

Give my body its food, give mine eyelids their sleep. 

Oh, hear my entreaties : on thee I call 

In the name of God who is Lord over all ; 

By the excellent bloom of that cheek which He gave, 

By that beauty which makes the whole world thy 

slave ; 
By the splendor that beams from thy beautiful brow 
That bids the full moon to thy majesty bow ; 
By the graceful gait of that cypress, by 
The delicate bow that is bent o'er thine eye ; 
By that arch of the temple devoted to prayer, 
By each fine-woven mesh of the toils of thy hair ; 
By that charming narcissus, that form arrayed 
In the sheen and glory of silk brocade ; 
By that secret thou callest a mouth, by the hair 



Jami. 

Thou caltest the waisi of that body most &ir ; 

By the musky spots on thy cheek's pure rose, 

By the smile of thy lips when those buds unclose ; 

By my longing tears, by the sigh and groan 

liiat rend my heart as I pine alone ; 

By thine absence, a mountain too hea\7 to bear, 

By my thousand fetters of grief and care ; 

By the sovereign sway of my passion, by 

My carelessness whether I live or die ; 

Kty me, pity my love-lorn grief: 

Loosen my fetters and grant relief: 

An age has scorched me since over my sou! 

The soft sweet air of thy garden stole. 

Be the balms of my wounds for a little ; shed 

Sweet scent on the heart where the (lowers are dead. 

I hunger for thee till my whole frame is weak : 

Oh, give me the food for my soul which I seek." 

" Fair daughter," said he, "of the Peri race — 

But no Peri can match thee in form or face — 

Tempt me no more to a deed of shame, 

Nor break the fair glass of a stainless name. 

Drag not my skirts through the dust and mire, 

Nor fill my veins with unholy fire. 

By the Living God, the great Soul of all, 

Inner and outward and great and small, 

From whose ocean this world like a bubble rose. 

And the sun by the flash of His splendor glows ; 

By the holy line of my fathers, whence 

I have learned the fair beauty of innocence ; 

From whom I inherit my spirit's light, 



Yusuf and Zulatkba. 48; 

And through them is the star of my fortune bright ; 

If thou wilt but leave me this day in peace, 

And my troubled soul from this snare release, 

Thou shalt see thy servant each wish obey, 

And with faith unshaken ihy grace repay. 

The lips of thy darling to thine shall be pressed, 

And the arms that thou lovest shall lull thee to rest. 

Haste not too fast to the goal : delay 

Is often more blessed than speed on the way, 

And the first paltry capture is ever surpassed 

By the nobler game that is netted at last" 

Zulaikha answered : " Ah, never think 
That the thirsty will wait for the morrow to drink, 
My spirit has rushed to my lips, and how 
Can I wait for the joy that I long for now? 
My heart has no power to watch and wait 
For the tender bliss that will come so late. 
Thy pleading is weak, and no cause I see 
Why thou shouldst not this moment be happy with me.' 

Then Yusuf answered : " Two things I fear — 
The judgment of God, and the Grand Vizir, 
If the master knew of the shameful deed, 
With a hundred sorrows my heart would bleed. 
Full well ihou knowest my furious lord 
Would strike me dead with his Ufted sword. 
And think of the shame that the sin would lay 
On my guilty soul at the Judgment Day, 
When the awful book is unclosed wherein 
Recording angels have scored my sin," 

" Fear not Ihy master," Zulaikha cried; 



" At some high feast when I sit by his side, 

A poisoned cup from this hand shall he take, 
And sleep till Doomsday shall bid him wake. 
And the God thou serves!, I hear thee say. 
Pardons His creatures who err and stray. 
Still, their sole mistress, the keys I hold 
or a hundred vaults full of gems and gold. 
All this will I give to atone for thy sin. 
And thy God's forgiveness will surely win." 

" Ne'er can my heart," he made answer, " incline 
To injure another by deed of mine ; 
Least of all my lord, who with tender thought 
Bade thee cherish and honor the slave he bought. 
And will my God, whom no thanks can pay. 
Take a bribe to pardon my sin to-day? 
Shall the grace which a life cannot buy be sold 
By the Living God for thy gems and gold? " 

" O King," she said, " to high fortune born, 
May throne and crown be thine to adorn ! 
My soul is the mark of the arrows of pain. 
And excuse on excuse thou hast marshalled in vain. 
Crooked, contemptible, all unmeet 
For a noble heart is the way of deceit. 
God grant that my heart from deceit may be free, 
And let me not hear these pretences from thee. 
I am sorely troubled : oh, give me rest ; 
Grant, willing, unwilling, this one request. 
In words, idle words, have my days passed by, 
And ne'er with my wishes wouldst thou coni]ily. 
!:e to pretences, or thou wilt repent 



^m 



Yusuf and Zttlaihha. 



489 



That thine eye would not glow nor thy heart relent 

A fierce flame has lighted the reeds of my heatl 

Thou canst look on the flame and stand heedless apart 

What boots it lo bum in this flame of desire, 

If thine eyes be undimmed by the smoke of the fire* 

Come, pour a cool stream on the hot flame, if I 

Fail lo melt thy cold heart with the heal of a sigh 

For new excuses his Ups unclosed. 

But with swift impatience she interposed : 

" My time thou hast stolen while fondly I hung 

On the guiling words of thy Hebrew tongue. 

No more evasion ; my wish deny, 

And by mine own hand will I surely die. 

Unless thy warm arm round my neck I feel, 

I will sever that neck with the biting steel. 

If fondly around me thou wilt not cling, 

A streak of my blood shall thy neck enring. 

A lily-like dagger shall rend my side, 

And my smock in blood like a rose shall be dyed 

Then shall my soul and my body part, 

And thy guile no longer distress my heart. 

My lifeless corse the Viiir will see. 

And the crime of the murder will rest on thee 

Then under the earth, when the doom is passed, 

Neat this loving heart thou wilt he at last." 

She drew from the pillow, distraught with grief 

A dagger gray as a willow leaf. 

And, fierce with the fire of fever, laid 

To her thirsty throat the bright cold blade, 

Up sprang Yusuf; his fingers' hold 



490 



Jami. 



Circled her wrist like a bracelet of gold. 

" Master this passion, Zulaikha," he cried ; 

" Turn from thy folly, oh, turn aside. 

Wilt thou not strive for the wished-for goal? 

Wilt thou abandon the aim of my soul?" 

She fancied his heart was relenting ; she thought 

His love would give her the bliss she sought. 

The gleaming sleel on the ground she threw. 

And hope sprang up in her breast anew. 

She sugared his lip with a touch of her own : 

One arm was his collar and one his zone. 

With a long sweet kiss on his lips she hong. 
And an eager arm round his neck was tlung. 

One nook of the chamber was dark with the shade 
Of a curtain that glittered with gold brocade. 
And Yusuf questioned her ; " What or who 
Is behind the curtain concealed from view? " 
" It is he," she answered, " to whom, while I live, 
My faithful service 1 still must give : 
A golden idol with jewelled eyes — 
A salver of musk in his bosom lies. 
I bend before him each hour of the day. 
And my head at his feet in due worship lay. 
Before his presence this screen I drew 
To be out of the reach of his darkened view. 
If I swerve from religion I would not be 
Where the angry eyes of my god may see." 
And Yusuf cried with a bitter cry : 
" Not a mite of the gold of thy faith have I. 
Thine eye is abashed before those that are dead. 




Yusiif arid Zuiaikba. 



491 



And shrinks from the sight of the lifeless in dread 
And God almighty shall I not fear, 
Who liveth and seeth and ever is near?" 

He ceased ; from the fond dream of rapture he woke , 
From the arms of Zuiaikha he struggled and broke 
With hasty feet from her side he sped. 
And burst open each door on his way as he fled 
Bolt and bar from the stanchions he drew — 
All open before him as onward he flew. 
Of his lifted finger a key was made, 
Which every lock at a sign obeyed. 
But Zuiaikha caught him, with steps more fast. 
Or ever the farthest chamber he passed. 
She clutched his skirt as he fled amain. 
And the coat from his shoulder was rent in twain 
Reft of his garment he slipped from her hand 
Like a bud from its sheath when the leaves expand 
She rent her robe in her anguish ; low 
On the earth, like a shadow, she lay in her woe 
A bitter cry from her heart she sent. 
And uttered these words in her wild lament : 
" Ah, woe is me for my luckless fate ! 
He has left my heart empty and desolate. 
Ah, that the game from my net should slip ! 
Ah, that the honey should mock my lip ! 
.\ spider once, I have heard them say, 
Went forth in its hunger to hunt for prey. 
On a bough a falcon had taken her stand, 
^Vho had fled from her rest on a royal hand. 
The spider would weave round her wings a snare 



492 



Jami. 



To hinder her Right through the fields of air. 

It labored long on this toil intent 

Till all the fine threads of its store were spent. 

At length the falcon her pinions spread, 

And the spider had naught but the broken thread. 

I am that spider : I weep and moan, 

The single hope of my heart o'erlhrown. 

The vein of my heart is the broken thread, 

And the bird whom I hoped to ensnare is fled. 

Each tie to my life is now broken in twain, 

And the severed ends in my hand remain." 



The False Charge. 

The pen that has written this tale relates. 

That when Yusuf fled through the palace gates, 

Soon as his foot in the court was set, 

The Grand Vizir and his lords he met. 

The master looked on his troubled face 

And questioned him wherefore he fled apace. 

Yusuf was ready wilh apt reply. 

And with courteous words put the question by. 

The Grand Vizir took his hand in his own. 

And they came where Zulaikha sat brooding alone. 

She saw them together, and cried, dismayed. 

To her own sad spirit, " Betrayed ! betrayed ! " 

Moved by the fancy, in loud lament. 

The veil of the secret she raised and rent : 

" O Balance of Justice, what sentence is due 

To him who to folly thy wife would woo? 




Yusuf and Zulaikba- AS 

And, fabe to his duty, has plotted within 

The folds of his treason a deed of sin ? " 

" Speak, fairest one, speak ; let lliy tale be clear. 

Who has thus dared ? " said the Grand Vizir. 

"The Hebrew sen-am," she cried, " has done 

'Hiis thing, whom thy favor hast made a son. 

Freed from the trouble and toil of the day, 

Here in my chamber asleep I lay, 

He came to ihe bed where alone I repose, 

And would pluck the flower of the spotless rose ; 

Hill the hand of the robber my slumber broke, 

\Vith a start and a cry from my rest I woke. 

He started in fear when I raised my head. 

And swift to the door of ihe chamber fled. 

He fled amain, but I followed fast 

And caught him ere yel from the palace he passed 

I caught his garment, my strength outspenl, 

A nd it spht as the leaf of a rose is rent. 

The garment he wears on his shoulders view. 

And see that the words which I speak are trae. 

Now were it best for a little lime 

To send him to prison to mourn his crime ; 

Or let the sharp lash on his lender skin 

Cure the wild boy of his wish to sin. 

I,et Ihe scourge be heavy, the pain severe. 

That others in time may be warned and fear." 

The Grand Vizir in amazement heard : 

His visage ch^inged and his heart was stirred, 

From the path of justice he turned aside, 

And his tongue was a sword of rebuke as he cried 



I 494 pmi. 

" Treasures of pearl and of gold I gave, 

When I weighed out my jewels to purchase my slave. 

I made ihee ray son of mine own free grace. 

And gave ihce beside me an honored place. 

I gave thee Zukaikha for guardian to tend 

Thy youth with her maidens and l>e thy friend. 

The slaves of my household obeyed ihy will ; 

They were gentle in speech and ne'er wished thee ill. 

I made thee lord over all that I had. 

And never would suffer thy heart to be sad. 

A folly and sin was this thought of thine : 

May God forgive thee the base design. 

In this evil world, full of grief and woe, 

Kindness responsive lo kindness we owe. 

But thou, all my love and my trust betrayed, 

My lender affection with ill hast repaid. 

Thou hast broken the bond which the meal had tied, 

And the pledge which the salt had sanctified," 

At the wrathful words of the Grand Vizir 
He shrank tike a hair when the flame is near. 
He cried to his m.-isler : " How long, how long 
Wilt thou burden the guiltless with cruel wrong? 
False is the tale that Zulaiklia has told : 
Her lie is a lamp when the flame is cold. 
From the man's left side came the woman. VVho 
Will hope that the left will be right and true ? 
From the day Zulaikha beheld me first, 
.\ frantic passion her heart has nursed, 
.About me ever she comes and goes, 
And with soft allurement her fancy shoivs. 



1 




-\ 


1 




Yusuf and Zulaikba. 495 






But ne'er have I lifted mine eye to her face, 




^H 




Ne'er have I looked for a kiss or embrace. 








Who am I, thy senant, that I should be 








The tempter of her who is sacred to thee? 




^H 




From earthly wealth I had turned away, 




■ 




To the pangs of exile my heart was a prey. 




■ 




A word from Zulaikha bade doors unclose. 








And opened a way to a hundred woes. 




■ 




She called me hither — her spells were sweet — 




■ 




And drew me aside to this lone retreat. 




■ 




With passionate pleading her love she pressed, 




■ 




And made my bosom a stranger to rest. 




■ 




By many a bar for a while detained. 








The gate of the palace at length I gained. 








She followed fast as I fled, and tore 








Behind from the shoulder the coat I wore. 




^H 




This is the story I have to tell : 




■ 




This, only this and no more, befell. 




■ 




If thou wilt not believe I am free from guilt, 








In ihe name of .^l!ah do what thou wilt." 




^H 




Zulaikha heard, and in self-defence 




^H 




Called Heaven to witness her innocence. 




■ 


■ 


She swore an oath on each sacred thing. 




■ 


■ 


By the throne, and the crown, and the head of the king, 






■■ 


By the rank and sUie of the Grand Vizir 




^H 


1 


Whom the monarch honored and held so dear. 




^H 


When trouble and doubt in a suit arise. 




^^1 


^ 


An oath the place of a witness supplies. 




^^1 




But ah, how oft, when the truth is known, 




^^1 


: 


Has the shameless lie of that oath been shown ! 


1 


J 



Jami. 

Then she cried, as her tears in a torrent ran : 

" From Yusuf only the folly began." 

Teais, ever ready to flow, supply 

Oil for the lamp of a woman's lie. 

Fed wilh this oil the flame waxes in power 

And destroys a whole world in one little hour. 

The oath of Zulaikha, the sob, the tear. 
Shut the blinded eye of the Grand Viiir. 
He gave a sergeant his order, like 
The strings of a lute the boy's heart to strike, 
Thai the vein of his soul might be racked wilh pain. 
And no trace of compassion or mercy reouin ; 
That the boy should be lodged in the prison till 
They had thoroughly fathomed the secret ill. 

The In FAN! VVrrNESs. 

His hand on Yusuf the sergeant laid, 

And straight to the prison his way he made. 

The heart of the captive with woe was rent. 
And the eye of complaint on the sky he bent : 
" Thou who knowest all hearts," he cried, 
" And every secret which men would hide ; 
Who discemest the tme from the false, whose might 
Save Thine only can bring this secret to light? 
Since the lamp of truth in thy heart Thou hast placed, 
Let me not with the charge of a lie be disgraced. 
Bear witness against mine accuser, 1 pray. 
That my truth may be clear as the light of day." 
He spoke in his sorrow ; and straight to its aim 




Yusuf and Zulaikba. 



497 



The shaft of his prayer from his spirit came. 
In the court was a dame, to Zulaikha allied, 
Who was night and day by Zulaikha's side. 
With her babe on her bosom but three months old 
She seemed her own soul in her anns to hold. 
No line in the volume of hfe had it read, 
And its tongue like a lily's no word had said. 
Bui it cried : " Vizir, be ihy judgment more slow. 
And beware of the hasie that will end in woe. 
No stain of sin upon Vusuf lies. 
But he merits the grace of thy favoring eyes," 
In courteous words spake the Grand Vizir 
In reply to the speech which he marvelled to hear : 
" O thou whom God teaches to speak while yet 
With the milk of thy mother thy lips are wet, 
Speak clearly and say who lighted the flame 
That has threatened the screen of my honor and fame." 
" No informer am I," said the babe, " to reveal 
The secret another would fain conceal. 
The lell-tale musk is so black in its hue, 
For no folds will imprison the scent that steals through , 
And the screen of the petals that round her cling, 
(Mves a charm to the smile of the rose in Spring. 
No secret I utter, no tale 1 tell. 
But I give thee a hint which will serve thee well. 
Go hence to Yusuf ; examine and note, 
As he lies in the prison, the rent in his coat. 
If the rent in the front of the garment appear. 
The skirt of Zulaikha from soil is clear. 
There is then no light in the charge he brings. 




And the stain of a lie to his stoty dings. 
Bat if rent be the back of the garment, he 
From charge of falsehood and slander is free. 
Then faithless Zulaikha has turned aside 
From the path of truth and has basely lied." 

The Grand Vizir to the prison went, 
And summoned Yusuf, to view the rent. 
He saw that the garment was torn behind ; 
And he cried to thai woman of evil mind : 
" Thou hast forged a lie, and ihine art has sent 
The innocent boy to imprisonment. 
What hast thou gained by thy crafty toils 
Since the shame of thy deed on thyself recoils? 
Thou hast left the straight path and hast sullied thy 

By wooing thy slave to a deed of shame. 

From the path of honor thy feel have strayed, 

And on him the guilt of thy sin thou hast laid. 

The arts and wiles of a woman rend 

The heart of a man, and they never will end. 

Those who are noble they bring to naught, 

And the wisest hearts in iheir toils are caught. 

O that men from the plague of their arts were free ! 

O that treacherous woman might cease to be ! 

Begone : on thy knees in repentance fall, 

And pray for forgiveness, thy face to the wall. 

Let the tears of contrition thy penitence grace, 

And the blot from thy volume of life efface. 

And, Yusuf, set on thy lips a seal : 

This tale of dishonor to none reveal. 




1 


f ^ 






^ 




Yusuf and ZuSaikba. 499 








Enough that thy speech — for thy words were wise — 








Has shown thee guiltless and opened mine eyes." 








He spoke ; then he turned from the prison : and 




i 




food 




^ 




For lale and jest was his clement moctd. 




■ 




Ah yes ; it is good to forgive and forget ; 




■ 




But bounds e'en to mercy itself should be set. 




^ 




If the man be too mild when the woman sins, 








There ends good-nature, and folly begins. 








Too patient a part, should thy wife offend, 








Makes a rift in thine honor which naught caa mend. 








The Women of Memphis. 








Love is ill suited with peace and rest : 








Scorn and reproaches become him best. 








Rebuke gives strength to his tongue, and blame 








Wakes the dull spark to a brighter flame. 








Blame is the censor of Love's bazaar : 




^^U 




It suffers no rust the pure splendor to mar. 




■ 




Blame is the whip whose impending blow 




B 




Speeds the wilting lover and wakes the slow ; 








And the weary steed who can hardly crawl 








Is swift of foot when reproaches fall. 








\Vhen the rose of the secret had opened and blown, 








The voice of reproach was a bulbul in lone.' 








The women of Memphis, who heard the tale first. 








The whispered slander received and nursed. 




^ 




I An ■llniioi) to the bulbul's love of the rose, whose beaulrbe 




^H 


1 




J 



50O 



Jami. 



Then, attacking Zulaikha for right and wrong. 

Their uttered reproaches were loud and long : 

" Heedless of honor and name she gave 

The love of her heart lo ihe Hebrew slave, 

Who lies so deep in her soul enshrined 

That to sense and religion her eyes are blind. 

She loves her servant. "\"k strange to think 

That erring folly ao low can sink ; 

But stranger still ihat the slave she wooes 

Should scorn her suit and her love refiise. 

His cold eye lo hers he never will raise ; 

He never will walk in the path where she strays. 

He stops if before him her form he sees ; 

If she lingers a moment he turns and flees. 

When her lifted veil leaves her cheek exposed. 

With the stud of his eyelash his eye is closed. 

If she weeps in her sorrow he laughs at her pain, 

And closes each door thai she opens in vain. 

It may be that her form is not fair in his eyes, 

And his cold heart refuses the proffered prize. 

If once her beloved one sal with us 

He would sit with us ever, not treat us thus. 

Our sweet society never would he leave, 

But joy unending would give and receive. 

But not all have this gitl in their hands : to enthrall 

nie heart they would win is not given lo all. 

There is many a woman, fair, good, and kind. 

To whom never the heart of a man inclined ; 

And many a Laili with soft black eye, 

The tears of whose heart-blood are never dry." 



1 


p 


1 


1 




«"X-»SJHEjgWrt^''-^-'^J^*^*^'^^^ 




■ 




Yiisuf ami Zulaikba. 501 




I 




Zulaikha heard, and resentment woke 




■ 




To punish the dames for the words they spoke 








She summoned them all from the city to share 




^1 




A sumptuous feast which she bade prepare. 




^ 




A delicate banquet meet for kings 








Was spread with the choicest of dainty things. 






Cups filled with sherbet of every hue 






Shone as rifts in a cloud when the sun gleams through 






There were goblets of purest crystal filled 






With wine and sweet odors with art distilled. 






The golden cloth bla^ed like the sunlight; a whole 






Cluster of stars was each silver bowl. 






From goblet and charger rare odors came ; 






There was strength for the spirit and food for the frame- 






All daintiest fare that your lip would taste. 






From fish to fowl, on the cloth was placed. 








It seemed that the fairest their teeth had lent 








For almonds, their lips for the sugar sent. 








A mimic palace rose fair to view 








Of a thousand sweets of each varied hue, 








Where instead of a carpet the floor was made 








\Vith bricks of candy and marmalade. 








Fruit in profusion, of sorts most rare. 








Piled in baskets, bloomed fresh and fair. 








Those who looked on their soft transparency felt 








That the delicate pulp would dissolve and melt. 








Bands of boys and young maidens, fine 








As mincing peacocks, were ranged in line ; 








And the fair dames of Memphis, like Peris eyed, 








In a ring on their couches sat side by side. EIS 


_ 


1 





502 



Jami. 



They tasted of all ihat they fancied, and each 

Was courteous in manner and gentle in speech. 

The feast was ended ; the cloth was raised. 
And Zulaikha sweetly each lady praised. 
Then she set, as she planned in her wily breast, 
A knife and an orange beside each guest : 
An orange, to purge the dark thoughts within 
Each jaundiced heart with its golden skin. 
One hand, as she bade them the orange clasped. 
The knife in the other was firmly grasped. 
Thus she addressed them : " Dames fair and sweet, 
Most lovely of all when the fairest meet. 
Why should my pleasure your hearts annoy? 
Why blame me for loving my Hebrew boy ? 
If your eyes with the light of his eyes were filled. 
Each tongue that blames me were hushed and stilled. 
I will bid him forth, if you all agree. 
And bring him near for your eyes to see." 
"This, even this," cried each eager dame, 
" Is the dearest wish our hearts can frame. 
Bid him come ; let us look on the lovely face 
That shall stir our hearts with its youthful grace. 
Already charmed, though our eyes never fell 
On the youth we long for, we love him well. 
These oranges still in our hands we hold. 
To sweeten the spleen with their skins of gold. 
But they please us not, for he is not here ; 
Let not one be cut till the boy appear." 

She sent the nurse to address him thus : 
" Come, free-waving cypress, come forth to ua. 



ap! 



Yusuf and Zulaikha. 



SO) 



Let us worship the ground which thy dear feet press 
And bow doivn at the sight of thy loveliness. 
Let our love -si rick en hearts be ihy chosen retreat 
And our eyes a soft carpel beneath thy feet," 

But he came not forth, like a lingering rose 
Which the spell of the charmer has failed to unclObC 
Then Zulaikha flew to the house where he dwell 
And in fond entreaty before him kneh : 
" My darling, the light of these longing eyes, 
Hope of my heart," thus she spoke with sighs, 
" I fed on the hope which thy words had gi\en 
But that hope from my breast by despair is driven 
For thee have I forfeited all : ray name 
Through thee has been made a reproach and shame 
I have found no favor : thou wouldst not fling 
One pitying look on so mean a thing. 
Yet let not the women of Memphis see 
That I am so hated and scorned by thee. 
Come, sprinkle the salt of thy lip to cure 
The wounds of my heart and the pain I endure 
Let the salt be sacred : repay the debt 
Of the faithful love thou shouldst never forget. 

The heart of Yusuf grew soft at the spell 
Of her gentle words, for she charmed so well. 
Swifl as the wind from her knees she rose, 
And decked him gay with the garb she chose. 
Over his shoulders she drew with care, 
The scented locks of his curling hair. 
Like serpents of jet-black lustre seen 
With their twisted coils where the grass is green 



Jami, 

A girdle gleaming wilh gold, round the waist 
That itself was fine as a hair, she braced. 
1 marvel so dainty a waist could bear 
The weight of the jewels that glittered there. 
She girt his brow with bright gems ; each stone 
Of wondrous beauty enhanced his own. 
On his shoes were rubies and many a gem, 
And pearls on the lalchets that fastened them. 
A scarf, on whose every thread was strung 
A loving heart, on his arm was hung. 
A golden ewer she gave him to hold. 
And a maid brow-bound with a Rtlet of gold 
In her hand a basin of silver bore, 
And shadow-like moved as he walked before. 
If a damsel had looked, she at once had resigned 
All joy of her life, all the peace of her mind. 
Too weak were my tongue if it tried to express 
The charm of his wonderful loveliness. 
Like a bed of roses in perfect bloom 
That secret treasure appeared in the room. 
The women of Memphis beheld him, and took 
From that garden of glory the rose of a look. 
One glance at his beauty o'erpowered each soul 
And drew from their fingers the reins of control. 
Each lady would cut through the orange she held, 
As she gazed on that beauty unparalleled. 
But she wounded her finger, so moved in her heart. 
That she knew not her hand and the orange apart. 
One made a pen of her finger, to write 
On her soul his name who had ravished her sight — 



Yuiuf and Zulaikba. 505 

A reed which, struck with the point of the knife, 

Poured out a red flood from each joint in the strife. 

One scored a calendar's lines in red 

On the silver sheet of her palm outspread, 

And each column, marked with the blood drops, 

showed 
Like a brook when the stream o'er the bank has 
flowed. 

When they saw that youth in his beauty's pride : 
" No mortal is he," in amaze they cried. 
" No clay and water composed his frame, 
But, a holy angel, from heaven he came." 
" Tis my peerless boy," cried Zulaikha, "long 
For him have I suffered reproach and wrong. 
I told him my love fur him, called him the whole 
Aim and desire of my heart and soul. 
He looked on me coldly ; I bent not his will 
To give me his love and my hope fulfil. 
He still rebelled ; I was forced to send 
To prison the boy whom I could not bend. 
In trouble and toil, under lock and chain, 
He passed long days in afHtction and pain. 
But his spirit was tamed by the woe he fell. 
And the heart thai was hardened began to melt. 
Keep your wild bird in a cage and see 
How soon he forgets ihat he once was free," 

Of those who wounded their hands a part 
Lost reason anil patience, and mind and heart. 
Too weak the sharp sword of his love to stay, 
They gave up their souls ere they moved away. 



506 Jami. 

The reason of others grew dark and dim, 
And madness possessed them for love of him. 
Bareheaded, barefooted, they fled amain, 
* And the light that had vanished never kindled again. 
To some iheir senses at length returned, 
But their hearts were wonnded. their bosoms burned. 
They were drunk with the cup which was (iiU to the 

brim. 
And the birds of their heans were ensnared by him. 
Nay, Vusurs love was a mighty bowl 
With varied power to move the soul. 
One drank the wine till her senses reeled ; 
To another, life had no joy to yield ; 
One offered her soul his least wish to fiilfil ; 
One dreamed of him ever, but mute and still. 
But only the woman to whom no share 
Of the wine was vouchsafed could be pitied there. 



Threats. 

When many rivals compete, the prize 
Waxes more dear in the winner's eyes, 
When another loves the fair maid you seek, 
The love grows strong that before was weak, 
And the flame that languished bursts forth anew 
When eager rivals come near to sue. 
The flame fed afresh on Zulaikha's mind. 
And her heart more strongly lo Yusuf inclined. 
Again she spoke to that lovely band. 
Whom love had wounded in heart and hand : 



A 


Yusuf and Zulaikba. 507 M 






" If ye think I had reason, forbear lo chide 








And blame me for love which I could not hide. 








The door of friendship is open ; be 








Friends in my trouble and prosper me." 








They swept the chords of love's lute and raised 








Their voices in tune and excused and praised. 








'■" Yes, he is lord of the realm of the soul ; 








There his is the right and ihe sway and control. 








What creature that looks — nay, even what stone — 








On that lovely face, calls its heart its own? 








If thy love for him be thy sum of distress. 








Thine excuse is sufficient, his loveliness. 








Breathes there a mortal beneath the sky, 








Who can look unmoved on that witching eye ? 








The heaven has oft compassed the earth, but where 








Has it seen a darling so bright and fair ? 




^^A 




Thou hast loved the sweet youth, but thou art not to 




^^H 




blame, 




^^H 




Thy soul is afire, but thy love is no shame. 




^^H 




May his strong heart touched by thy passion relent, 




^^1 




.\nd shame make thy dariing his coldness repent." 




^^H 




They ceased. On Vusuf their eyes they bent. 




^^H 




And addressed him thus in admonishment : 




^^H 




" Joy of the age, from the east to the west. 




^^H 




The fame of thy virtue by all is confessed. 




■ 




This garden, where roses wilh thorns we see. 




■ 




Has ne'er grown a rose without thorns like thee. 








Stoop down for a liltle, and add a grace 




^^H 




To that height by descent from thy lot^y place. 




^^H 




Zulaikha is dust for thy feet to tread. 




1 






\ 




1 



Jami. 

Trail diy skirt for a while where that dust is spread. 

How, O pure one ! wilt thou be hurt 

By touching the rlust for a time with thy skin ? 

One wish has Zulaikha : no longer refuse 

To grant the sole favor for which she sues. 

If thy wish be to have do desires of thine own, 

Oh, leave not the thirsty to languish alone. 

She has wailed on thee, with thy wishes complied ; 

Oh, let not the meed of her love be denied. 

Regard her entreaties, no longer be coy. 

For we fear in our hearts, O too beautiful boy. 

If thou still wilt rebel and no warning wilt heed, 

Tne fruit in the end will be bitter indeed. 

She will wash out thy love from the depths of her 

soul, 
And a deluge of fury will over thee roll. 
Beware, and remember love turned to hate, 
Will press the old friend with the sorest weight, 
AVhen over the bank the fierce torrents burst. 
The mother will tread on the child she nursed. 
She threatens a prison. Beware, beware, 
.'Xnd think of the pains that await thee there. 
'Tis narrow and dark like a tyrant's grave. 
Far from it fly those who have lives to save ; 
\Vhere the foul air stifles the living breath, 
Where wretches lie who are waiting for death, 
The hand of the builder has fashioned there 
No narrowest passage for light or air. 

ue is the gift which the close air brings, 

its floor is the soil whence misery springs. 



GK 



Yusttf and ZiUaikba. 



S09 



The light of dawn never enters where 

The door is closed with the key of despair. 

Narrow and blacker than pitch, the chains 

Are the only treasure the vault contains. 

There without bread, without water, lie 

The weary wretches who faio would die. 

Warders watch over them, turn by turn. 

And their eyes are fierce and their words are stem 

Now say, shall such an ill mansion be, 

O heart -enslaver, a home for thee ? 

Let not thy heart be so cruel ; spare 

Thyself and open the door to her prayer. 

Bend thy proud head as a reed is bent : 

Banish all fear from thy heart, and consent. 

Or if thy fancy perchance prefer 

More winning beauty and turn from her. 

To us in secret thy heart incline, 

And be ours forever as we are thine. 

Sec, in our charms we are matchless ; see, 

Moons lighting the heaven of beauty are we. 

Shame makes Zulaikha her own month close 

When we open our lips whence the honey flows. 

How can Zulaikha with us compare? 

So sweet are we and so bright and fair." 

He heard the voice of the charmers, and knew 
That theit zeal for Zulaikha was all untrue. 
They would lead him to swerve from his faith and «T, 
But more for the sake of themselves than of her. 
His heart was troubled, he turned aside. 
And no tender look to their looks replied. 



510 



Jami. 



He lifted to heaven his hands and prayed : 
" O Thou who givest the needy aid. 

Friend of the humble recluse, the sure 

Help and refuge of all who are pure ; 

Against the oppressor a strong defence, 

The lamp and beacon of innocence ; 

Their wiles torment me. The bolt, the bar. 

The chains of the prison were better far. 

Years in a dungeon were lighter pain 

Than to look on the (ace of these women again. 

Thus our hearts grow blind that we cannot see. 

And we wander farther and farther from Thee. 

If Thou wilt not turn their devices aside 

Who have strayed from the path and their faith denied, 

Who will not permit me to rest and be free — 

If Thou wilt not aid me, ah, woe is me." 

For prison he prayed. Nor would God deny 
The boon he sought with his eager cry. 
But had Yusuf asked at His hands release, 
The boy uniinprisoned had gone in peace. 
From the snares of the women the bird had flown. 
And the pains of the dungeon he ne'er had known. 



iMPRtSONMtlNT. 

In vain they tempted him. No success, 
Had the art of each wily idolatress. 
The pure soul of Yusuf was still unmoved, 
Nay, firmer still by temptation proved. 
And like bats that flee ere the sun is bright. 



1 


w 


1 






m 


1 


Yusuf and Zuiaikba. 511 


1 




They despaired of the joy of his beauty's light. 


1 


■ 




But they left not Zulaikha a monnent's rest. 


m 






On her sorrowing soul their advice they pressed. 


n 


^^H 




"Poor suffering creature," 'twas thus they cried, 


m 


^^H 




" Unworthiest thou to be thus denied ; 


M 


^^H 




No Houri's child is like Yusuf fair, 


m 


^^H 




But he will not listen to gram thy prayer. 


m 


^^H 




^^'e gave him rebuke and advice enough. 


m 


^^1 




And the file of our tongue we made sharp and rough. 


M 


^^H 




But his heart is hard, and he will not feel ; 


^i 


^^H 




The file, though rough, would not bite the steel. 


M 


^^1 




Let the forge — his prison — be heated, so 


m 


^^H 




The stubborn iron wiU melt and glow. 


m 


^^H 




When the metal grows soft in the flame, the skill 


m 


^^H 




Of the smith can fashion its form at will. 


m 


^^H 




If the softened iron thou canst not mould, 


m 


^^H 




Why hammer in vain when the steel is cold?" 


M 


^^H 




She trusted the words that the charmers spoke. 


m 


^^H 




And hope in her bosom again awoke. 


m 


^^H 




She would prison the treasure her heart loved best. 


W 


^^H 




And make him suffer that she might rest. 


m 


^^1 




When love is not perfect, with one sole thought — 


m 


^^1 




Himself— Is llie heart of the lover fraught. 


m 


^^H 




He looks on his love as a charming toy, 


n 


^^H 




The spring and source of his selfish joy. 


w 


^^1 




One rose will he pluck from his love, and leave 


M 


^^1 




A hundred thorns her lone heart to grieve. 


^ 


^^1 




As Zulaikha sat by her husband's side, 


1 


^^1 




She poured out the rage of her soul and cried : 


\ 


^^1 


: 


" This boy has brought me to grief and sharae ; 


\ 


1 




5" 


J 



S12 



Jami. 



The high and the humble reproach my name. 
Men and women the story tell, 
How I pine for the youth whom I love too well ; 
That I am the game he has struck with his dart. 
And laid on the ground with a bleeding heart. 
Barb upon barb in my breast, they say. 
Has drained the blood from the stricken prey ; 
No hair on my head from that love is free, 
And my very self is a stranger to me. 
To send him to prison and thus repel 
The growing slander, methinks, were well. 
And in every street of the town to proclaim 
By the voice of the crier the traitor's shame ; 
Thus shall be punished the sla\'e who allows 
His eye to look on his master's spouse. 
And with lawless feet, on the carpet spread 
For the lord who owns him, presumes to tread. 
The tongue of reproach will be silent when 
My avenging wrath is made known to men." 

The plan she spoke to his willing car, 
Delighted the heart of the Grand Vizir- 
" I have pondered it long," was the answer he made ; 
" Long on my soul has the trouble weighed ; 
But I never have pierced a pearl so fine. 
Or devised a plan to compare with thine. 
The boy is thine own, as thou wilt, to treat ; 
Sweep thou the dust from the path of thy feet." 

She heard his speech with a joyful smile. 
And Bhe turned to Yusuf the rein of her guile : 
" O wish of my heart and desire of mine eyes. 



n 


r- 


1 


Yusuf and Zuiaikba. 51} 


1 




The only treasure on earth I prize. 


m 


■ 




My lord's permission has left me free 


H 






To deal as uiy will may incline with thee. 


n 


^^1 




Thy head, if I will, in a prison must lie. 


M 


^^1 




Thy foot, if I order, will tread the sky. 


H 


^H 




Why still rebellious ? why still so blind ? 


m 


^^1 




Bend thy proud spirit at last and be kind. 


H 


^^1 




Oh, come, tread the path of agreement and peace; 


|s 


^H 




Me from tormenl, thyself from affliction, release. 


s 


^H 




Come, grant me my wish ; I with thine will comply ; 


m 


^^ 




In the zenith of glory thy name shall be high. 


m 






Beware, beware, or the door will unclose 


W 






Of a prison fraught with a hundred woes ; 


w 






And to lie there in sorrow and chains will be 


w 






Less sweet than to sit and smile softly on me." 


w 






He opened his lips in reply : but well 


g 






Vou know the answer I need not tell. 


m 






In Zulaikha's bosom resentment woke. 


ra 






And thus lo the chief of the guard she spoke : 


m 


^1 




" Off with his robe and his cap of gold ; 


hI 


^^1 




In coarsest woollen his limbs enfold. 


Bn 


^^1 




His silver with fetters of iron deck, 


m 


^^1 


■ 


And bind the slave's collar about his neck. 


s| 


■ 


■ 


Guilty of crime, make him sit on an ass 


Wi 




w 


.\nd through every street of the city pass ; 


ffl 


H 




.And let a crier's loud voice proclaim 


ml 






That the treacherous servant, lost to shame, 


Wi 


^H 




Who dares on his master's carpet lo tread, 


raj 


■ 




Shall thus with scorn to his prison be led." 


wj 


■ 




The multitude gathered on every sid^ 


1 


1 


1 


I 


m 


^_^^^^^ 



Jami. 

And "God forbid," in amaze Ihey cried, 

"That from one so fair should come evil deed — 

The robber of hearts cause a heart to bleed. 

Of the race of the angels he surely is one, 

And no deeds of Satan by ihem are done. 

No evil act will the lovely do. 

For the sage has said, and his words are true : 

'The fair in face are not soiled with sin ; 

Less fair are their looks than their souls within. 

But he who is hideous in form and face. 

Has a heart in his breast that is yet more base.' 

And we see the truth of the maxim still, 

Ne'er the hideous do good nor the lovely ill." 

Thus to the dungeon the boy was driven. 

And there to the charge of the jailer given. 

Within the prison the saint was led, 

And life seemed to return to the corpse of the dead. 

A cry of joy from the captives rose, 

And happiness came to that house of woes ; 

While all in rapture their fetters beat 

As they saw the approach of his blessed feet. 

None felt the chain that confined each limb, 

The ring on his neck was no bond for him. 

A rapturous joy was his gloomy fate, 

And a mountain of woe was a straw in weight 

Wherever is one of the Houris' race 

She makes a heaven of the dreariest place. 

Where the loved one comes with her cheek of rose. 

There a rose-bed is though a fiimace glows. 

When the glad commotion was hushed and still, 



Yusitf athi Zulaikba. 



515 



To the jailer Zulaikha declared her will : 

"Spare him: with kindness the captive treat; 

Strike the ring from his neck and the chain from his 

feet. 
Strip off the rough gown from his 'silver skin; 
Bring silken raiment to robe him in, 
Wash the dust of toil from his head, and set 
On his brows the bright round of a coronet. 
A separate house for his rest prepare. 
And lodge him apart from the others there. 
The door and the walls with sweet scent perfume; 
Brighten each window and arch of his room ; 
And over the floor be a carpet laid 
Of silver tissue and gold brocade." 

Within the chamber the captive passed : 
The carpet of prayer on the ground he cast, 
And raised — for such was his wont each day — 
His tranquil face to the arch to pray. 
He joyed to have fled from the women's snare, 
And his burden was hght for his heart to bear. 
Woe never visits the world but it brings 
Sweet scent of the coming of happier things ; 
And the weary captive who lies in chains 
Feels the breath of a blessing to lighten his pains. 



Repentance. 

In this vault of turki's upreared of old. 
The children of Adam are dull and cold ; 
Their hearts arc never in thankful mood, 



516 



Jat 



But their thoughts are still of iagratitude ; 
And the worth is unknown, till they fade away. 
Of the blessings which brighten each passing day. 
Though many a lover may nerve his heart. 
When he deems he is weary of love, to part. 
When the ilame of absence is kindled by Doom 
His body will waste and his heart consume. 
The light ihal the rose-cheek of Yusuf shed 
Made the house of bondage a bright rose-bed ; 
But Ziilaikha, whose palace had been more fair 
Than a garden of roses when he was there, 
Felt a deep gloom on her spirit press, 
When she saw not the light of his loveliness. 
Sad was her heart in that dungeon's hold. 
And one sorrow by parting became twofold. 

\Vhere is woe like the lover's who looks on the place 
Once blest with the light of his darhng's face? 
What comfort is found in the drear rose-bed. 
When the thorns arc left and the roses are dead ? 
Ah, how the heart of the bulbul is torn — 
A roseless garden and spears of thorn '. 
When her look on her desolate garden was bent. 
Like a bud unclosing her robe she rent. 
Why should the hand of the mourner refrain 
From tearing his robe in a torment of pain? 
Let him rend through his bosom a way (o his heart 
That comfort may enter and banish the smart. 

Each thing he had touched, as it met her eye, 
Drew from her bosom a long deep sigh. 



qp 



Yusuf and Zulaikba. 



517 



Sad was her soul, and her eyes were dim, 

As she caught up the raiment once worn by him 

But the touch was to her as the breath of the rose, 

And soothed the fierce pain of her burning woes 

About her own neck his collar she lied. 

With a hundred kisses of love applied ; 

" This is my collar of glory, nay. 

The band of my heart," she would cry, " and Its stay ' 

To place her arm in his mande's sleeve 

Would for a moment her pain relieve ; 

As she thought of her love it was touchctl and kissed. 

And with silver filled of her dainty wrist 

She pressed to her eyes — and the touch was sweet — 

The skirt that had lain on her darling's feet, 

And, hopeless to fasten her lips on them, 

Deluded her soul with a kiss of the hem. 

Pearl and niby in showers she spread 

Over the cap that had decked his head. 

For once it had shaded the beautiful brow 

To which the whole world loved in worship to bow 

To the zone that had girded his waist she gave 

The honor due from a faithful slave ; 

As a token most dear of her vanished fawn 

Round her neck for a snare was the girdle drann 

With dim eyes weeping, her hands displayed 

The glittering folds of his robe of brocade. 

She bathed ils skirts with her tears, and the gleam 

Of the r\ibies she dropped was on band and seam 

Thus was the grief of Zulaikha renewed 
Through the dreary day by each thing she viewed 



518 



jami. 



As she knew not the value of present joy 
The fierce flame of absence mnst bliss destroy. 
Zulaikha sorrowed, but sorrowed in vain ; 
Only patience was left her to heal her pain. 
Yea, patience would bring her the balm of rest, 
But how could she banish her love from her breast? 

Death to the lover who weeps alone 
Is the loss of the love he has loved and known. 
Of torments and woe there is none like this — 
To part from one's love after days of bliss. 
If no sweet companionship linked their lives, 
His heart may break, but it still survives, 

Zulaikha fain fi^om herself would fly. 
And, of good despairing, would gladly die. 
The wall and ihe Hoor with her head she smote. 
The bloodthirsty dagger was raised to her throat. 
She sought, like a watchman, the roof at night 
To cast herself down from the giddy height. 
She twisted a cord of her hair, and strove 
To stifle her breath with the noose she wove. 
She sought release for her weary soul — 
A poisonous draught from life's pleasant bowl. 
She sickened of all, and would fain destroy 
Her life with each thing that was once her joy. 

The pitying nurse sought her lady's side. 
Kissed her hands and feet and blessed her and cried : 
" May thy darling return to dispel thy woe ; 
May thy cup with the wine of his love o'erflow ! 
May a happy meeting thy bliss restore, 
With no fear of parting for < 



Yusuf and Zulathba. 51^ 

How long shall this folly subdue thee? Arise, 

Throw off thy madness, again be wise. 

This sad heart bleetis when ihy grief I see : 

What woman ever has acted like thee? 

Patience — list to the voice of age — 

Patience alone will thy grief assuage. 

Impatience has brought thee this fever of pain ; 

l^t patience allay it with soothing rain. 

When o'er thee the whirlwinds of sorrow pass, 

Flee not before them like scattered grass. 

Keep thy foot in thy skirt with undaunted will. 

And stand firm in thy place like a rooted hill. 

Patience will lead thee to lasting bliss, 

And the fruit of thy longing thou shall not miss. 

Every triumph from patience springs, 

The happy herald of better things. 

Through patience the pearl from the raindrop grows. 

And the diamond shines and the ruby glows ; 

The full car springs from tlie scattered seed, 

And food from the ear for the traveller's need. 

So moons come and vanish till babes are bom, 

And with moonlight beauty the world adorn." 

Zulaikha listened, and, half consoled. 
The outward signs of her grief controlled. 
Rent to the skin was her robe, but still 
She confined her feet with a stronger will. 
But if for a moment the lover heara, 
The wamer speaks to forgetful cars ; 
Hushed is that tongue and no traces remain 
Of the words of wisdom he spoke in vain. 



Jamu 



The Visit to the Prison. 

When the sud, like Vusuf, afar in the west, 

In his gloomy prison had sunk to rest ; 

And, hke Zulaikba, the mouming skies 

Wept for his loss with their starry eyes; 

While the sicirt of the heavens was dipped in a flood 

Of rose-red hue from its tears of blood ; 

Hot te;ir$ for Yusuf Zulaikha shed. 

And her eyes like the evening horizon were red. 

She went to her chamber to sigh and to grieve, 

And the wail of the day was renewed at eve. 

When the day of a lover is merged in night 
Again wakes his pain with redoubled might. 
For the loss of his love his lone day is dim : 
But the night is yet darker and sadder for him. 
Dark is the day when she comes not back, 
But the night is darker, deep black upon black 
For night to the lover comes heavy with gloom, 
And fierce is the offspring that comes from her womb ; 
When the terrible child is brought forth it lives 
On blood for the milk which a mother gives. 
Ah, think what woe must the mother bring 
From whom a child thirsting for blood can spring ! 
In the wild impatience that drove her mad, 
The night to Zulaikha was gloomy and sad ; 
The darling who ravished her heart was away, 
And her night was moonless and sunless her day. 
There was splendor of torches, yet dark was each place 
Where shone not the light of her loved one's face. 



Yusuf and Zulaikba. 



S21 



Through the stress of her anguish she closed no eye ; 
And she said with hot tears and a bitter cry : 
" How fares he this night? Ah, how can I tell? 
\Vho is the bail that they serve him well ? 
Who has smoothed the folds at his feet, and set 
In order the bolster and coverlet? 
Whose hand has lighted a lamp by his bed, 
And softened the pillow to rest his head? 
Who has loosened the zoac from his waist, and told, 
To lull him, tales of the times of old ? 
Has the prison injured his lender frame? 
Like a bird encaged, is the captive tame? 
Have his roses paled in the dungeon air? 
Are his locks still bright as the spikenard's hair? 
Is the bloom of the rose-garden faded and dead? 
Is the splendor that shone from the spikenard fled? 
In his heart like a rosebud compressed with woes, 
Or expanded in joy like the perfect rose?" 
Thus till a watch of the night was spent 
She poured out her anguish in wail and lament. 
Then strength departed, endurance died ; 
The brook of her patience was empty and dried. 
Then the flame of her longing flashed forth : with eyes 
Streaming she called to her nurse : " Arise, 
I can wait no longer ; arise, let us go 
Unseen of all to the hovise of woe. 
There we will hide in some corner ; thus 
The Mood of our prison will shine for us. 
With the rosy cheek of one's darling, there 
No prison may be, but the spring is fair. 



522 



Jami. 



Let others be glad when gay gardens they see : 
This bud of the prison is all to tne." 

In graceful motion away she sped, 
And the nurse followed close where the lady ted. 
She came like a moon to the prison wall. 
And the warder rose at her secret call. 
He opened the gate as he moved the bar 
And showed her the moon of her love afar. 
On the carpet of worship his head he bent. 
As the sun declines ere the day is spent. 
Then he reared like a flambeau his stately height, 
And threw o'er the captives long rays of light. 
Then he curved his back to a moon whose glow 
Fell on the carpet outspread below. 
Then, like a rose -twig by the night -wind swayed, 
He bowed and to God for forgiveness prayed ; 
Then in humble hope with his head depressed 
Like a modest violet sat at rest. 

Silent and hidden she moved no limb. 
Far from herself but so near to him. 
But she wept in her heart, and the tears she shed 
Turned the jasmine hue of her cheek to red. 
With pearl she mangled the ruby, and tore 
The rich ripe dales that the palm tree bore. 
Then lier grief burst forth, and while hot tears ran 
From their fountain in torrents, she thus began : 
" Eye and lamp of the lovely ones, thou 
Whom the feirest would follow with prayer and vow, 
In my breast thou hast kindled a flame of fire ; 
From my head to my foot I am all desire. 



m_ 



Yusuf and Zalatkba. S2 

But no drop of pity hast thou bestowed 
To quench the flame when its (aty glowed. 
Thou hast gored my breast and no pity felt 
For the cruel wound which ihy hand has dealt. 
Hast thou no nith, O most heartless, none 
For me rejected, oppressed, undone ? 
I bear from thee daily fresh grief and scorn i 
Ah, woe is me that 1 ever was born ! 
Or if she had borne me, a babe unblest, 
Would I ne'er had lain on my mother's breast, 
Ne'er on kindly milk from her bosom fed. 
But deadly poison had sucked instead." 

Thus sad Zulaikha wept and complained ; 
But cold and unyielding his heart remained. 
Unmoved was his soul, or no sign betrayed 
That his ruth was stirred as she wept and prayed. 

The night passed away ; the pure skies o'erhead 
Wept tears like those which the holy shed. 
Loud sounded the drum from the palace, high 
Rose through the air the Muezzin's cry. 
The watch-dog's baying was hushed, and round 
His throat for a collar his tail was wound. 
Up started the cock from his sleep ; his throat 
Sent forth to the morning its clarion note. 
Then Zulaikha rose ; from the jail she withdrew. 
But its threshold she kissed ere she bade it adieu. 

Long as her moon in that prison lay. 
To its portal nightly she found her way. 
Thus ever she went and she came ; and this 
Was her heart's sole comfort, her only bliss. 




None loves a garden where bright flowers blow 
As she loved to ^'isit that house of woe. 
Yes, when your love is in prison, where 
Will your soul find comfort save only there? 



Night o'er the lover a soft veil throws 
To lighten the pang of his bitterest woes. 
And brings him many a counsel that lay 
Lost in the toil of the busding day. 
As her nightly sorrow grew less and less. 
And her anguish lost some of its bitterness, 
The day returning her pangs renewed. 
And the hundred woes of her solitude. 
Her road to the prison by day was barred, 
And away from that prison her life was hard. 
Some cosily trifle each morn she laid 
In the willing hand of her trustiest maid, 
And instead of herself she commissioned her 
To look on the face of the prisoner. 
When from her errand the maid returned, 
A thousand caresses her task had earned- 
On the damsel's foot she would rest her cheek ; 
She would kiss her eyes and thus softly speak : 
" Thy foot has been where my darling lies. 
And his cheek has been S' 




^F 



ag-i«»je»-T.BQMja^B«a»!E^^ 



Yiisuf and ZiUaikba. 



525 



Has looked on the eye of my love — I kiss ; 

And I lay my cheek on thy feet instead, 

Which have trodden the ground which my darling's 

tread." 
Then would she question the maiden : " How 
\Vas the glance of his eye? And his cheek? And 

brow? 
In his daily life is there knot or thom? 
Is his face untroubled, or pale and wora? 
Has the lonely air of the prison made 
His body suffer, his roses fade? 
Did he deign to taste of the dainties I sent ? 
Does he think of her whose heart he has rent? " 
She would ask and listen; then swift would she rise 
And hasten away with her streaming eyes. 

High on her house stood a turret between. 
Whose pillars the roof of the prison was seen; 
There, when ihe hours of the night had flown. 
She would close the door fast and would sit alone. 
On each cheek was a ruby, a pearl in each eye, 
As she gazed on the prison and said with a sigh : 
" What am I to behold his dear face ! To see 
The roof where he dwells is enough for me. 
Unworthy to look on his cheek, mine eye 
With those walls and that door will I satisfy. 
A Paradise blooms in the dreariest watb 
Wherever the light of my dear moon falls. 
That roof is blest with a matchless prize. 
For the sun of the world in its shelter lies. 
My back with a burden of grief is bent 



526 



Jami. 



;n I think of that wall where his back has leant. 
Joy through that portal erect can march. 
But my cypress tnust stoop ere he passed the arch. 
Ah, happy threshold ! Ah, blest above 
All others to kiss the dear feet of my love ! 
O joy, when that sun makes nie crumble away 
Into atoms scarce seen as they float in the ray, 
When I leap from my wmdow thai sun to meet 
And throw myself down at his lovely feet. 
I Ah, even the earth is more blest than I, 
For his graceful feet on her bosom lie, 
And the dust of the path which his footsteps stir. 
Clings to his skirt and falls sweelly on her." 

Through the weary day till the night brought ease 
Such was her bondage, her words were like these. 
While the light of her heart in that prison lay. 
This is the story of night and day. 
Still to the prison at night she went, 
And by day her eyes on its roof were bent. 
Day after day, week after week. 
She looked on that wall and she gaied on his check. 
She had made him a home in her heart ; no care 
For her life, for the world, could find entrance there. 
Lost to herself she thought of him still, 
From her heart's tablet washing all good and ill. 
When the call of her maidens rang loud and clear 
She scarce came to herself, though she seemed to 

hear. 
Then to those maidens she oft would say : 
" My senses are gone, ah, forever, astray. 




Attention from me it is hopeless to seek; 
Touch me and shake me before you speak. 
I may come to myself, by your touches stirred ; 
Mine ear may be opened, your message heard. 
My heart is with him in the prison : hence 
Springs all the trouble that steals my s 
She in whose bosom that fair moon Uves, 
No care and no thought to another gives," 

Fierce fever followed her heart's wild pain, 
And the point of the lancet must open a vein. 
They who stood round saw each blood-drop spell 
A letter of Yusufs name as it fell. 
This word on the groimd, so that all might note, 
The lancet-reed of the surgeon wrote. 
So full of her love were the vein and the skin 
That nothing save Yusuf might dwell therein. 
Blest is the lover whose soul has fraught 
The zephyr of love with no selfish thought ; 
Whose heart is so full oi its darling, there 
No room may be for a single hair ; 
Where absolute love through each vein is spread, 
In each drop of his blood, in each hair of his head ; 
Who forgets his own form and his features, knows 
No love of friends and no hatred of foes ; 
Who bids farewell to the world, looks down 
With scorn on ambition and throne and crown. 
If he utters a word 'lis to her that he speaks. 
And would win for her only each thing that he seeks. 
He recks not of self, and, in all he desires. 
His love for his darling each thought inspires. 



528 



Jami. 



His former self he has thrown aside, 

And each thought is ennobled and purified. 

Rise, Jarai, thou ! A new life begin ; 
Seek the mansion eternal and eoler in. 
Thou knowest the way which thy feet should tread : 
Ne'er the path of the sluggard to bhss hath led. 
Quit self and this being forever : set 
Thy feet no more in the worldling's net. 
Once thou wast not, and no loss was thine : 
Now be rich forever, this life resign. 
Seek not thy bliss in thyself; refrain 
From the fruitless hope thai will bring no gain. 



Fellow-prkoners. 

He who is born to high fate on earth 
Disperses the dark as he springs to birth. 
For him in each thicket a lily blows, 
And the musk of Tartary breathes from the rose. 
He visits the field like a cloud of soft rain, 
.\nd Paradise blooms on the thirsty plain. 
Like a breeze of spring through a garden he strays, 
And the rose awakened her lamp displays. 
If his face in a dungeon he deign to show, 
Each captive there will forget his woe. 
So while the prison where Yusuf lay 
Smiled with his presence and all was gay, 
Each prisoner, happy in heart, forgot 
The bond and the chain and his dreary lot. 
But if ever a captive sickened there. 



Yusuf and Zulaikba. 



529 



The weary victim of toil and care, 

Vusur watched tenderly o'er him till he 

Was made whole from the paio of his malady. 

Was the soul of any oppressed with grief 

Yusuf was ready to lend relief, 

With a smile so sweet and a voice so kind 

That the mourner was cheered and his heart resigned 

If a penniless wretch of his lot complained. 

As the new moon filled or the fiill moon waned,' 

Yusuf took from the wealthy a golden key. 

Relieved the debtor and made him free. 

If a rich man dreamed a sad dream and was caught 

In the threatening whirlpool of wildered thought, 

The dream was explained by those lips, and he 

Was saved from the depth of the surging sea. 

Two lords, once high in the ruler's grace, 
Had fallen low from their lolly place. 
And, doomed in that prison long days to spend, 
Had won the love of that faithful friend. 
Each dreamed a dream one night, and the breast 
Of each was moved with a wild unrest ; 
For one had the promise of freedom, one 
Was warned that the days of his life were done. 
So weighed those dreareis, both of hope and dread. 
On the heart of each, uninterpreted. 
They came to Yusuf and prayed him unfold 
The secret drift of the dreams they told. 
'Thou on the gallows," he said, "must swing; 
And thou wilt return to the court of the king." 

I Ai ihc day* ramc oeu on wblcb h« wu twund lo psj debt*. 



530 



Jami. 



True were his words. To the youth restored 
To his place of honor beside his lord, 
Ere he turned to the court from his bonds set free, 
Thus spoke Vusuf : " Remember me. 
If fortune favor thee, lime may bring 
A happy hour to address the king. 
Thou will gain thy reward if thou speak lo him then 
As he sits in the hall with his noblemen. 
' A stranger,' say, ' in the prison lies 
Barred from the sight of thy pitying eyes. 
It beseems not a heart that is righteous like thine 
To suffer the guiltless in bonds to pine.' " 

IJiit when that servant his rank regained. 
And the cup of the grace of his master drained. 
For many a year his glad heart forgot 
The prayer of Yusuf or heeded not. 
The tree of his promise brought forth despair. 
And Yusuf yet Lngered a captive there. 

From him who is chosen, whom God above 
Deems worthy to rest in the shade of His love, 
All earthly means in this world are withdrawn ; 
No mortal may hold His elected in pawn. 
Gods draws him away to Himself alone, 
And to none but Him may his love be shown. 
To the will of another he may not bend, 
But on God alone may his hope depend. 
No prayer to others must he prefer. 
But be God's own servant and prisoner. 



1 


r 


1 


1 




1 


^ 


Yusuf and Zulaikha. 53 1 




The King's Vision. 


1 






Many a lock in this world we see 


1 






To open whose wards we can find no key, 


H 






When the wit of the wise is of no avail, 


B 






And care and quick sight and endeavor fail. 


m 






On a sudden, touched by no master-hand, 


m 






With no device that an artist planned. 


m 






Through a. cause unknown the lock open flies 


if 






And displays to the seeker the long-sought prize. 


M 






The heart of Yusuf all hope resigned 


m 






That his own device would his bonds unbind. 


« 






His hope was only in Him from whom 


« 






Comes help to us all in the days of gloom. 


H 






And, free from self-thought in hb low caute, 


s 








s 






Clear to the ruler of Egypt's sight 


M 






Appeared seven kine, as he dreamed one night ; 


M 






Each more fair than the olher, all 


m 






Were healthy and handsome and fat from the stall. 


n 






After them others advancing were seen. 


i 






Equal in number, but weak and lean. 


sj 




W By these the former were overpowered 


n 




1 And, like the grass of the field, devoured. 


m 




9 Seven ears of com then were seen to rise. 


m 




H That might gladden the heart and delight the eyes. 


a 






Then seven thin ears, grown each from a stem, 


» 






Followed and withered and ruined them. 


s 






In the early mom when the king awoke, 


H 




1 


To each wakeful heart of his dream he spoke. 


1 


1 



532 



Jami. 



" Wc cannot interpret it," all replied ; 

" Thought and conjecture are here defied. 

The dream is a riddle no wit may explain, 

And wisest are they who from guess refrain." 

Then he who had knowledge of Yusuf flung 

Aside the veil that before him hung. 

And said : - — "A youth in the prison lies, 

In solving riddles supremely wise. 

Hb wit can interpret each dream, and he 

Will bring up the pearl when he dives in the sea. 

Permit me to tell him this secret (hiog, 

And the drift of thy dream from his lips will I bring." 

"What need," said the king, " of permission to speak? 

What better than sight may the blind man seek ? 

And from this moment the eye of my mind, 

Till I master this secret, is dark and blind." 

He ran to the prison with utmost speed. 

And gave to Yusuf the dream to read. 

" Years," he explained, " are those care and Itinc, 

Whose looks of those years are the mark and sign. 

The fair fat kine and the full ears well 

The nature and hope of those yeare may tell. 

The meagre ears, the kine thin and weak. 

Of years of dearth and misfortune speak. 

In the former seven the kindly rain 

Will fill the fields full with rich grass and grain. 

And all the land will be glad and gay. 

But seven wi!l come, when those pass away. 

To ruin the gifts of the years before ; 

And the hearts of men will be glad no moie. 



^ 


r 


1 




^ 


Yusuf and Zuiaikba. 533 




No gracious cloud the sweet rain will bring, 






No blade of grass from the ground will spring- 






No joy will the wealth of the rich supply, 






And the poor and needy will hunger and die. 




On the table of Time is no food, and Bread ! 






Is the cry of thousands who die unfed." 






The noble listened, and straight returned i 






To the court of the king with the lore he had learned. 'm| 






To his masler the words of Yusuf he told, ml 






And made his glad heart like a bud unfold. iKj| 






" Bring Yusuf to me," said the monarch, " that I ESJ 






On the truth of [liese words may more surely rely. |ffi|l 






Tis sweetest to hear a dear friend repeat iS! 






With his own lips the words which, reported, are sweet ; :« 






And who is content from another to hear QJ 






The words he may draw from the lips that are dear?" ul 






Again to the prison his steps he bent, iral 






And gave Yusuf the message the king bad sent : ^1 






" Fair cypress, come from thy still retreat, EBl 






In the monarch's garden to set thy feet. :ffl[ 






come, and the court of his house will shine W 






More fair with the rose of that cheek of thine." ml 






" Shall I visit," cried Yusuf, " the court of a king w] 






Who has cast me aside like a guilty thing — fil 






Who has left me in prison long years, nor bent 31 






One pitying glance on the innocent? g| 






Lei him first command, if he will that I go |l 




Forth to his court from this house of woe, £JI 




That they whom, at sight of me, wonder led W 


J 


To wound with the knife their own hands till they bled, S 



534 Jami. 

Like the Pleiades gathered before his face. 
Uplift the veil and make clear my case ; 
And let them declare for what fault or crime 
I have lain in the prison this dreary time. 
Then will the secret come forth lo light, 
And my skirt >vill be proved to be pure and white. 
The path of sin have I never pursued, 
But traitorous thought in my heart eschewed. 
To my lord I was faithful in deed and in thought, 
No perfidy planned, no dishonesty wrought. 
Ere thus with my master 1 stooped to deal. 
Like a midnight thief I would plunder and steal." 

The message was given ; the monarch heard ; 
To the women of Memphis he sent his word, 
And, called from their homes by the summons, they 



To the light of his presence like moths to the flame. 

When their company entered the court of their lord. 

He loosened his tongue as a flaming sword : 

" How did that pure light offend, that you 

The sword of dishonor against him drew? 

How could you send to a prison the boy 

Whose face was your garden and spring of joy? 

Bind chains on the neck of an idol for whom 

The weight of a rose were too heavy a doom ? 

No chains but the links of ihe dew should be bome 

By the rose that is bowed by the breath of the morn." 

"O King," they answered, "whose splendor has lent 

To the crown and the throne a new ornament. 

Purity only in Yusuf we saw, 



% 


^ 


^ 






1 




Yusuf and Zulaikba. 5J5 




Honor and love of each holiest law. 


m 






No pearl ever lay 'neath ihe depth of the sea 


a 






More pure in the shell that enfolds it than he. 


m 






There loo Zulaikha sat with the rest, 


m 






With no lie on her lip and no guile in her breast 


i 






The schooling of love and his sweet control 


i 






Had chastened her spirit and softened her soul 


ra 






The splendor of truth from her bosom broke, 


ffl 






And like the true dawning of day she spoke. 


W\ 






The veil of her folly was flung aside. 


M 






And, "The light of the truth is revealed," she cried 


M 






" To the charge of Yusuf no sin is laid ; 


m 


1 




1 in my love for him erred and strayed. 


M 


M 




With the spells of my love I would draw him near, 


H 


■ 




And I drove him afar when he would not hear 




V 
~ 




To the house of woe for my woes was he sent. 








And my sufferings caused his imprisonment. 








When the love-grief I fell was too heavy to bear 








Of the load of my sorrows I gave him a share. 








I was the tyrant, and, oh 1 that he 








Were repaid for the woes he has suffered through 




, 




Each grace, each honor and bounty— all 




m 




That the king may give — were a gift too small " 




■ 




He heard Zulaikha the secret disclose ; 




■ 




He smiled like a rosebud, and bloomed like a rose 




■ 




He gave command lo his servants to speed. 




■ 




And back from the prison bring Yusuf freed. 




^ 




" In the loveliest garden the rose should bloom 








And not Ue immured in a dungeon's gloom. 


i 


a 


1 


^^^^^^^^^^^^H 


M. 


_^ ^^^^^^^^^^^^1 



536 



Jami. 



la the realm of love he is lord supreme, 

And no seat but a throne may that king beseem." 



Release. 

In this ancient lodge 'tis a well-known taJe 
That ne'er without bitter may sweet prevail. 
When the weary days of the moons have passed, 
The mother looks on her babe at last. 
In the rock pines the ruby till, one by one. 
Its veins are filled full of the light of the sun. 

The night of Yusuf was long and drear. 
But it fled at last and the dawn was clear. 
Long on his heart lay a mountain of woes. 

To welcome him back with due honor, all 
The courtiers who stood in the monarch's hall, 
Were straightway commanded to line the way 
From the court to the prison in full array. 
There youths apparelled in rich brocade 
And glittering girdles with gold inlaid ; 
There skilful riders were fair to see. 
On the noblest chargers of Araby ; 
There, bright as the sun, was a minstrel throng 
Skilled in all Hebrew and Syrian song ; 
And the lords of Egypt on every side 
Scattered their silver coin far and wide, 
While the poor and needy Hocked round to gain 
A share of the wealth of the shining rain. 
Forth from the prison came Yusuf, gay 



n 



Yusuf and Zulaikba. 



537 



In the pomp and sheen of a king's array. 
The stately steed by his hand conlrolled 
Was a mountain covered with pearl and gold. 
Bags full of jewels and coin, and trays 
Of musk and ambergris strewed the ways. 
Thrown from each side at the feet of his steed, 
And from want the poor were forever freed. 
He passed through the street of the royal town ; 
At the gate of the palace he lighted down, 
And silk and satin and gold brocade 
Beneath his feel — yea, and heads — were laid, 
And o'er azure carpets his steps he bent 
Like a moon sailing on through the firmament. 

Swift as the wind the glad monarch pressed. 
Warned of his coming, to meet the guest. 
He clasped him close to his bosom : so 
A box tree her arms round a cypress might throw. 
He made him sit on his royal seat : 
He questioned him long, and his words were sweet. 
First the drift of his dream would the monarch hear, 
And Yusufs words made the meaning clear. 
Then of many an action and place and thing 
He plied him with eagerest tiuestioning. 
Each answer of Yusuf was clear and true, 
And the king's delight with his wonder grew. 
" Help me with counsel," at last he said j 
" This dream which thy lips have interpreted — 

IV shall I meet the woe threatened ? How drain 
The bitter cup of my country's pain ?" 

" In the years of abundance," he thus replied, 





" When ihc clouds the blessing of rain provide, 
Send out thine orders that all shall till 
The fields of the land with one heart and will ; 
With sharp nails harrow each stony place, 
And scatter the seed with the blood of the face. 
Let the grain, which the ears when they ripen, afford 
For the food of the future be gathered and stored. 
In the daj-s of famine each laden ear 
Rends the heart of thy foe with its pointed spear. 
Let the gathered com in the granaiies lie ; 
Then, when the drought and the dearth are nigh. 
From the ample stores ihou hast gathered give 
Enough to each man that his soul may live. 
But o'er every busiaess should one preside 
Whose skill and knowledge are proved and tried ; 
Whose keen-eyed prudence each end foresees, 
And his hand performs what his head decrees. 
Search through the world for such heart and brain, 
A man like me will be sought in vain. 
This weighty task to my charge commit. 
For none in the land wilt thou find so fit," 

The king was glad at his sage reply ; 
Mid the lords of Egypt he raised bira high. 
He bade the soldiers his word obey 
And gave him the land for his own to sway. 
He was Grand Vizir by the monarch's grace, 
.And sat on the throne in the ruler's place. 
Enthroned he sat in his seat of pride, 
And the people bowed proslrate on every side. 
The shouts of the heralds, as forth he went 



Yusuf and Zulaikba. 

To the plain, rose up to the firmament. 
To every place, as his faocy led, 
By thousands his coming was heralded ; 
And near their lord, when he chose lo ride. 
Was a countless army to guard and guide. 
When thus to Yusuf the Lord Supreme 
Gave the highest rank in the King's esteem, 
The Grand Vizir saw his sun go down. 
And low sank the flag of his old renown. 
Crushed was his heart by his loss of slate. 
And he fell a prey to the dart of Fate. 



The Blind Widow. 

Untouched by delight and by meaner pain 
Is the heart that loves fondly but loves in vain. 
Only this care to its skirts may cling ; 
No joy may gladden, no sorrow sting. 
If this world of ours were a sea of woes, 
And the billows of wrath high as mountains rose, 
They might roar about him and rage, but the hem 
Of his garment would never be welted by them. 
If Fate spread a banquet of joy — a feast 
Whose delight never ended and still increased — 
He would turn away, for the dainties there 
Would not lighten his load by a single hair. 
A hapless bird was Zulaikha. She pined 
In the narrow cage of the world conRned, 
Befriended by Fortune, in pride and power, 



540 Jami. 

When a rose-bed bloomed in her secret bower ; 

With her lord beside her to shade and screen 

The lender plant when her bud was green — 

With all dainty things, if she cared but to speak ; 

When no lamp was so bright as her youthful cheek : 

Yusuf e'en then her whole heart possessed — 

The sweet name on her lips, the dear hope in her 

breast. 
Now, when from her side her protector was reft, 
When naught of her rank and her treasures was left, 
The sole friend of her heart, who ne'er changed his 

place, 
Was the sweet remembrance of Yusuf s face. 
She thought of him ever ; her sad house seemed 
Her dear fatherland when of him she dreamed. 
No food could she eat, and she closed not her eyes ; 
She wept tears of blood and she said with sighs : — 
" Beloved Yusuf, where, where art thou? 
\Vhy false and faithless to pledge and vow? 
Oh, thai again those sweet hours I might sec, 
^Vhen one happy home held my love and me ! 
When no fear of parting could mar delight. 
And I gazed on his beauty from mom till night. 
When stem Fate robbed me of this sweet joy, 
I sent to prison that innocent boy. 
Unseen by night to his presence I stole, 
And the sight of his cheek was as balm to my soul ; 
And a glance at the walls where my darling lay 
Rubbed the rust of grief from my heart by day. 
No joy is now left me, no solace like these ; 



A 



Yusuf ami Zulaikha. 



S4l 



My heart and my frame perish of pain and disease 
All I have left is the image which still, 
Where'er I may be, this sad bosom must fill. 
The soul of this frame U that image, and I, 
Bereft of its presence, should languish and die " 
Then her breast and her heart she would fiercely 

And engrave the form of her darling there. 

She would strike her soft knee with her hand till the 

blue 

Of the lotus supplanted the jasmine's hue. 
" I am worthy the love of my love," she would cry, 
" For my love is the sun and the lotus am I. 
As my love is the lord of the east and the west, 
The place of the lotus for me is the best." 

She would strike her heart's fir-cone ' again and agam 
With closed fingers knotted Uke sugar-cane. 
And her hand — no picture could match its grace — 
Left on her bosom a blood-red trace. 
For a reed each bleeding finger she took, 
And, white as pure camphor, her hand was a book , 
But the only word she could write therein 
Was the syllable grief on the silver skin ; 
And ah, her beloved would read or note 
No single tine of the word she wrote. 

I^ng years of sorrow, each like the last. 
In hopeless yearning alone she passed. 
White, white as milk grew each plaited tress. 



542 



Jami. 



And dark was the light of her loveliness. 

The musk had departed, the camphor was there, 

And the gray dawn had banished the night of her hair. 

I From the arrow of Fate had the raven fled. 
And the owlet lodged in the nest instead ; 
Lives any so old who can call to mind 

I Owls keeping a nest by the ravens resigned 7 
In her eye's narcissus the jasmine grew : 
Tears had washed from her eyelid its jetty hue. 

I Black in the days of her joy was that eye 
Which looked delighted on earth and sky. 
Why, when her hope and her heart had failed, 
And het joy passed away, was the blackness paled? 
From Hindustan had she learned to wear 
Nothing but white in her woe and desp^r? 
With wrinkles the bloom of her cheek was marred. 
And the leaves of the wild rose were withered and 

scarred ; 
Each line that in blandishment once lent a grace 
To her delicate brow now disfigured her feicc. 
In this ancient world who ever has known 
The smooth water lined when no breeze has blown? 
But there ever were wrinkles and lines to deform 
Her face's soft splendor in calm or in storm. 
Grief had bent down the cypress once stately and 

proud. 
And her head like a ring to her foot was bowed — 
Weighed down by its burden it lay on her feet, 
Like a ring on the door where the happy ones meet. 
When no longer the blessing of sight remained 



'a 


^ 




Yusuf ami Zulaikba. 54> 


1 


1 




On this earth with the blood of the dead distained, 


i 


1 




She bowed down her back aod she bent her head 


m 






As if seeking ihe treasure which long had fled. 


iffi 






Slowly and sadly the years came round ; 


Wt 






Her foot was unringed and her head uncrowned. 


m 






There gleamed on her shoulder no satin's sheen, 


m 






No precious gems in her ears were seen. 


H 






On her neck was no collar of costly stone ; 


M 






No gold-wrought veil o'er her cheek was thrown. 


M 






On the cold bare earth for a bed she lay, 


Km 






And the cheek once so dainty was pillowed on clay. 


!M 






Ah, earth, with his love, was a pleasanter bed 


'nS 






Than a silken couch by a Houri spread ! 


M 






Yes, a jewelled pillow from Paradise seemed 


w 






The brick on her cheek when of him she dreamed. 


M 






In this sorrow, of which but a part is sung 


Wi 


^ 




In the vocal pearls which my pen has strung, 


iHJ 


fl 




His name was all thai her lips could speak. 


M 






The only comfort her soul might seek. 


Wi 


^^H 




While yet she had treasures, a wealth untold 


mi 






Of jewels and silver, of pearl and gold, 


Wi 






Her gold and silver she cast at the feet 


^1 






Of her whom some tale of her love would repeat, 


m 






And her pearls and her jewels she gave to each 


m 






Who poured forth those jewels and pearls of speech ; 


m 






But her gold and silver, her pearls, and her vast 


H 






Treasure of jewels were spent at last. 


Hi 






With a woollen gown and a girdle rent 


hI 






From the bark of the palm she was then content. 


wl 






Then all on the knee of deep silence fell ; 


1 








si 


J 


*. 


J 



Jami. 

t of Yusuf she heard them tell. 
No longer came I he sweet tidings to cheer 
Her lonely heart through the path of her ear. 

That this food of her life might be still supplied 
She built her a hut by the highway side. 
Thai each ear might catch — and the hope was 

sweet — 
The measured tread of hia escort's feet. 
Ah, poor, unhappy, deserted soul, 
From whose hand has fallen the rein of control ! 
From the love of her darling by Fate debarred. 
The voice of her longing was tuneless and hard. 
No breath from her love might be wafted to her. 
No tidings be learned from a messenger. 
Oft would she question the wind if it knew 
Aught of her love, and the bird as it flew. 
Whenever a traveller passed the place 
U'ith the dust of the road on his weary face, 
She would wash that brow, she would bathe those feet. 
For they came from his home to her lone retreat. 
If her lord and king by her cottage passed. 
No look on his face had she power to cast, 
Content with the sound of his horse's tread, 
And the dust of his path on her happy head. 



The Cottage of Reeds. 

A cottage of reeds had she built by the aide 
Of the way where Yusuf was wont to ride ; 
And with reeds that uttered a plaintive sound 




I-ike the voice of a flute, she had fenced it round 
Whenever she uttered her wail and cry. 
Each reed in concert gave sigh for sigh. 
When the fire of absence consumed her, ihe seeds 
Of the wild flame fell on the pitying reeds. 
Heartbroken she dwelt in that hut, nor stirred 
From the place where she lay like a wounded bird 
Vet the thought of her love was so sweet a pain 
That each reed was to her like a sugar-cane. 

In his stalls had Vusuf a fairy steed, 
A courser through space of no earthly breed; 
Swift as the heavens, and black and white 
With a thousand patches of day and night ; 
Now a jetty spot, now a starry blaze. 
Like Time with succession of nighis and days. 
With his tail the heavenly Virgo's hair, 
With his hoof the moon, was afraid to compare 
Each foot with a golden new moon was shod. 
And the stars of its nails stnick the earth as he trod 
When his hoof smote sharp on the rugged flint 
A planet flashed forth from the new moon's dint , 
And a new moon rose in the sky when a shoe 
From the galloping foot of the courser flew. 
Like an arrow shot through its side in the chase. 
He outstripped the game in the deadly race. 
At a single bound he would spring, unpressed. 
With the lightning's speed from the east to the west 
As he lifted the dust with his foot, the wind 
Of the rushing tempest was left behind. 
If the road he traversed was dank and wet. 




546 



Jami. 



On his coat you would sec not a drop of sweat. 

fiat oft would his paces be gentle and slow, 

As the big drops combine till the torrents flow. 

Now, a flying treasure, away would he dash 

O'er the plain, untouched by the snake' of the lash. 

Had he loved to rest in his quiet stall. 

The heavens had served him, a careflil thrall ; 

Had quenched his thirst from the fount of the sun. 

With the urn of the moon, when his course was run. 

They had fed him with Virgo's gold barley, and hay 

Gleaned from the field of the Milky Way.' 

A sieve for his use they had bidden prepare, 

Each year and month, of a comet's hair ; 

And the birds who sing praise at the break of mom 

From the Lote tree ' had flocked to pick stones from 

his corn. 
On his back for a saddle the Scales had been flung, 
And a new moon each side for his stirrup hung. 
Mi'hen Yusuf mounted, the moon bestrode 
The Scales his saddle and forth be rode. 
At the touch of that ihtgh the proud courser neighed, 
And his thoughts no more from the journey strayed. 
The neigh of the charger rang clear and loud. 
And the drum of departure was shouts from the crowd ; 
And like planets grouped round the moon a ring 
Of courtiers gathered about their king. 

From her cottage of reeds came Zulailcha out 

I An BlluiioD Us the serpent which is laid to guvd hidden tnw- 



Yusuf and Zulaikba. 



547 



When she knew of his coming and heard them shout 

In grief and anguish of heart by the side 

Of the road he would travel she sat and cried 

When the host ihat preceded his courser was near 

Loud rang the voices of boys with a cheer : 

"Look, Yusuf himself, H-honi the sun in the sky 

And the bright moon envy, is nigh, is nigh." 

Zulaikha answered : " Mine eyes are blind, 

But DO trace of Yusuf mid these I find. 

Mock me not, darlings ! oh, spare me the pain, 

No breath from Yusuf has reached my brain. 

The mvisk of Tarlary scents the place 

That is blest with the light of his lovely &ce, 

And when he sits in his litter, thence 

A precious perfiime pervades the sense." 

Nearer and nearer, mid loud acclaim, 
Of hearts that were jubilant, Yusuf came. 
They calle<i to Zulaikha : — " The guards are nigh, 
But no trace of Yusuf has met our eye." 
" Strive not to deceive me," Zulaikha replied ; 
" My darling's coming ye may not hide. 
Can the coming of one who was born to wield 
The sceptre of sway o'er each soul be concealed? 
The brealh of his fragrance gives life to the whole 
Of this world of ours and each single soul ; 
And the presence of him who gives life is made known 
To the poor thirsty soul that must perish alone " 

When Zulaikha, long buried in darkness and gloom, 
Heard the shout of the escort, " Make room, make 
room 1" 




548 



Jami. 



A loud cry she uttered : " Rejected, forlorn, 
A long age of absence my spirit has borne. 
1 can suffer do more : I have had my fiill share : 
Loss of patience is now the sole loss I may bear. 
Far better, forever excluded from bliss, 
To fly from myself than to linger like this." 

Thus cried Zulaikha, ihen sank and lay 
Unconscious awhile, all her senses astray. 
That cup of unconsciousness still she kept. 
As, oblivious of self, to her cottage she crept. 
Then rose the shrill wail as her sad heart bled, 
And reeds sighed in tune with the strain she led. 
Thus passed in her sorrow the time away. 
And this was the task of each mournful day. 



The Convert. 

Never content is the lover ; each hour 

His longing waxes in strength and power. 

Ne'er to one wish for two moments true, 

A joy still dearer he holds in view. 

He would look on the rose when he breathes her 

scent. 
And pluck the fair flower when the stem is benL 

Zulaikha had sat by the way, but now 
She would lift her eyes to his cheek and brow. 
At the foot of the image to which she prayed 
From the days of childhood her head she laid : 
" O thou, to whom praying I turn me, before 
Whose feet I have loved thy dear might to adore ; 



Yusaf and Zulaikba. 



549 



I have served thee devoutly from youth's early day , 
Bui the gem of my sight has been taken away. 
Cast a pitying look on my ruin ; restore 
The Ught of mine eyes that 1 sorrow no more. 
Between Yusuf and me must there still be a bar? 
Oh, let me but see him — one look from afar. 
This prayer — thou art mighty ; this one wish fulfil , 
Give this, and then deal with me after thy will. 
What is hfe to a wretch who must hopelessly pine ? 
Far better were death than a life like mine." 
Thus cried Zulaikha. She laid down her head, 
And wet was the ground with the tears she shed 

To his throne in the east rose the Lord of Day, 
And the steed of Vusuf was heard to neigh. 
She came from her cottage in beggar's weed 
To the narrowest turn in the way of the steed. 
With raised hand acted the mendicant's part. 
And made a low moan from the ground of her heart. 
Before their master, the horsemen's cry, 
" Make room, make room ! " went up to the sky , 
And the tread and tramp of the mighty throng, 
And the neighing of steeds as they moved along, 
Smote on each ear, and no eye was turned 
To the spot where Zulaikha sat undiscemed. 
He looked not on her ; she rose forlorn, 
In a hundred pieces her heart was torn. 
Her broken spirit sent out a cry. 
And a flame came forth in each burning sigh. 
To her house of woe she relumed distraught. 
And a hundred flames for each reed she brought 




550 



jaini. 



She placed before her the idol of stone, 

And 10 lighten her sorrow thus made her moan : 

" O thou who hast broken mine honor's urn. 

Thou stone of offence wheresoever I turn, 

I should smite — for thy falsehood has mined ray rest — 

With the stone thou art made of, the heart in my breast. 

The way of misfortune too surely I trod 

When I bowed do*-n before thee and made thee my 

god; 
When I looked up to thee with wet eyes in my woe, 
I renounced all the bliss which both worlds can bestow. 
From thy stony dominion my soul will I free. 
And thus shatter the gem of thy power and thee," 
With a hard flint stone, like the Friend,' as she 
spoke. 
In a thousand pieces the image she broke. 
Riven and shattered the ido! fell. 
And with her from that moment shall all be well. 
She made her .iblution, mid penitent sighs. 
With the blood of her heart and the teats of her eyes. 
She bent down her head to the dust ; with a moan 
She made supplication to God's pure throne : — 
" O God, who lovest the humble, Thou 
To whom idols, their makers, their servants bow ; 
"Tis to the light which Thy splendor lends 
To the idol's face that its worshipper bends. 
TTiy love the heart of the sculptor stirs. 
And the idol is graven for worshippers. 





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Yusuf and Zuiaihba. 5S1 


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They bow them down to the image, and think 


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That they worship Thee as before it they sinlt 


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To myself, Lord, I have done this wrong, 


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If mine eyes to an idol have turned so long. 


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I have erred and strayed ; let repentance win 


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Forgiveness, Good Lord, for my grievous sin. 


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Because I have wandered, nor heeded Thy right, 


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From mine eyes Thou hast taken the jewel of sight 


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Thou hast washed the dark sUin of my sin away 


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Now restore the lost blessing for which I pray 


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May I feel my heart free from the brand of its woes, 


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And cull from the garden of Yiisuf a rose." 


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As Yusuf home to his palace hied, 


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Again by the way stood Zulaikha and cried : 


93: 






" Glory to God I to a monarch's stale 


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He has lifted the poor and cast down the great 


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He has cast the king from his glory down, 


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And set on the head of a servant his crown." 


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When Yusuf the voice of Zul.iikha heard. 


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He cried to a lord : " As I hear her speak 


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My spirit sinks and my heart grows weak. 


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Who is the beadswoman ? Bid her appear 


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In my council-chamber thai I may hear 


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From her lips the tale of her hfe, and know 


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Her share of fortune, her dole of woe. 


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For the words of praise which mine ears have caught 


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On my troubled spirit have strongly wrought. 


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By some grievous woe is her heart down-weighed. 
Or why should my sou! be so touched and swayed?" 


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552 Jami. 


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Two hundred soials, to the king who can note 








The truth of each sigh and each glance, I devote ; 






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Whose eye can discern the hght of the true 






^^H 


From the false look of those whodeceive when they sue 






^^H 


Who honor and punishment justly can mete 






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To the tnie light of dawn and the liar's deceit; 






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Not like the princes whose judgment, for gold. 








In our evil days may be bought and sold. 








Each tyrant wiih cheeks like a guinea in hue 








Makes a hundred wretches his mystery rue. 








Gold brings the flush of delight to the cheek ; 








But justice from gold it were idle to seek. 










Youth Restored. 










For what sweeter joy can a lover yearn 
Than to love his love and be loved in return ; 
To bear to her bower his burden of woes. 
And find the sweet comfort which love bestows ; 
To tell the dear hopes of his heart and repeat 
The tales of old time at his darling's feet? 

When Yusuf, freed from the pomp and din. 
Had sought his chamber and entered in, 
A chamberlain cried at the door : " best 
Of princes, famous from east to west, 
That ancient woman in beggar's weed, 
Who laid her hand on the rein of thy steed. 










Whom by thine order I bade appear 
This day in thy presence, is waiting here." 
" Go, hear her petition," thus Vusnf replied. 




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Ytisiif and Zulaihha. 



55} 



" Is she poor and in want, for her need provide." 
" She is not," said the chamberlain, " one of those 
Who will tell me the tale of her need and woes." 

" Admit her," said Yusuf, " that, face to face, 
She may lift the veil of her mournful case." 

Zulaikha came in, when permission was won, 
.As free as the motes in the light of the sun. 
Like a bud she expanded : the lips that were pale 
Smiled bright as a rose, and she bade him hail. 
He asked her her name and her home, the while 
He marvelled much at thai joyous smile, 

" I am she who chose thee," she cried ; " and thou, 
Since that one first glance, hast been loved till now ; 
To whom, bought with my wealth, 1 devoted the 

whole 
True love of my heart and my mind and my soul. 
1 cast for thy sake my young life to the wind, 
And age has come o'er me and youth declined. 
Tliine arms for a consort this realm have embraced. 
And I am unpilied, forgotten, disgraced." 

From his eye the big tears of compassion felt 
.As he heard the tale he remembered so well. 
"Zulaikha," he said, "what unhappy fate 
Has brought thee down to thy low estate?" 

When she heard her beloved her name express, 
Zulaikha fell prostrate, Zulaikhaless. 
The wine of unconsciousness boiled in her heart, 
And the sense from her body was riven apart. 
Then thus began Yusuf, as slowly at length 
Zulaikha recovered her senses and strength : 



554 



Jam* 



"Where is thy youth, and thy beauty, and pride?" 
" Gone, since 1 parted from thee," she replied, 
" Where is the light of thine eye ? " said he, 
" Drowned in blood-tears for the loss of thee." 
"Why is that cypress tree bowed and bent?" 
" By absence from thee and my long lament." 
" Where is thy pearl, and thy silver and gold. 
And the diadem bright on thy head of old?" 
" She who spoke of my loved one," she answered, 

" shed, 
In the praise of thy beauty, rare pearls on my hexd 
In return for those jewels, a recompense meet, 
I scattered my jewels and gold at her feet. 
A crown of pure gold on her forehead I set. 
And the dusl tliat she trod was my coronet. 
The stream of my treasure of gold ran dry ; 
My heart is love's storehouse, and 1 am I." 

Again spoke Vusuf : " Zulaikha, say. 
What is the wish of thy heart to-day?" 
" My prayer," she answered, " wilt thou refuse ; 
Bnt no help save thine can 1 wish or choose. 
And if with an oath thou wilt pledge thy word, 
To utter that prayer shall my tongue be stirred. 
If not, in silence my lips I close. 
And give my soul back to my life of woes." 

" By the truth of that Father ' who reared of yore 
The temple of prophecy," thus he swore ; 
" To whom a tulip bloomed forth in the flame. 
And from heaven a robe of high honor came ; 



Kusw/' and Zulaikha. 



555 



Whatever thy will be this day, I vow — 

If 1 have but the power — I will grant it now." 

" First, my beauty," she cried, " and my youth re 
store 
In the pride and splendor thou knewest before , 
Then add the gift of new sight to those. 
To see thee and cull from thy cheek a rose." 

He moved his lips and his prayer began 
While the healing stream from his pure mouth ran 
The beauty returned which was ruiued and dead. 
And her cheek gained the splendor which long had 

fled. 
Again shone the waters ' which sad years had dried, 
And the rose-bed of youth bloomed again in its pnde 
The musk was restored and the camphor withdrawn 
And the black night followed the gray of the dawn 
The cypress rose stately and tall as of old : 
The pure silver was free from all wrinkle and fold 
From each musky tresa fled the traces of white 
To the black narcissus came beauty and light. 
The halo of youth round her age was seen ; 
For the forty-years' dame stood a girl of eighteen , 
Yes, fairer and brighter in loveliness stood 
Than in days of her ripening maidenhood. 

Again said Yusuf : " O Ihou most fair, 
If a wish now be left thee, that wish declare." 

" The one sole wish of my heart," she replied, 
" Is still to be near thee, to sit by ihy side ; 



:r and splendor. 



556 



Jami. 



To have thee by day in my happy sight, 

Acd to by my cheelc on thy foot at night ', 

To lie in the shade of the cypress and sip 

The sugar that lies on thy ruby lip ; 

To my wounded heart this soft balm to lay : 

For naught beyond this can I wish or pray. 

The streams of thy love will new life bestow 

On the dry thirsty field where its sweet waters flow." 

When Yusuf the prayer of Zulaikha had heard, 
He bowed down his head and he spoke no word, 
To the world unseen were his eyes turned away, 
And he gave her no answer of Yea or Nay. 
Then a sound on his ear, as he doubted, fell. 
And he knew 'twas the wing-beat of Gabriel. 
Thus spoke the Angel ; " To thee, O king, 
From the Lord .'Mmtghty a message 1 bring. 
* Mine eyes have seen her in humble mood ; 
1 heard her prayer when to thee she sued. 
At the sight of her labors, her prayers, and sighs, 
The waves of the sea of My pity rise. 
Her soul from ihe sword of despair 1 free, 
And here from My throne I betroth her to thee.' " 



4 



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Notes. 559 

7- This couplet illu5trales a curious conceil. much used in Persian 
poetry — the iniroduction of the elements in rheloriol relation. 
Three out of the four are brought in here, air, water, and earth; and 
the lioes thus possess aa elegance which the uninstmcled Occidi^ntai 
would never suspect. 

9. Zuhta is the plane! Venus, the Anahila or Uahid of the old 
Persian mythology, and the lule-plajret of the heavens, 

ODE XXIV. 

3. I'he Persians describe (he dimple in the chin of their mistreu 
as a dangerous well filled with her lover's tears, into which, when he 
approaches her mouth, he may fall and be drowned. 

6. "Oh rose, tearing thy robe in two": Ibat is, burslinc inU 
flower beneath the warm breath of the wind Itwl blows from where 

ODE XXV. 

I. This poem is addressed lo the Viiir of Sultan Oweis of Bagh- 
dad. Hadji Kawameddin, wlio Founded a collie lor Ha&i in Shinu. 
With true Persian exaggeration the poel must needs write to his 
patron much in the same terms in which a lover would write lo 
his mistress : bul his words, though they sound strangely lo our 
ears, are nothing more than the Oriental wa^r of saying. " Awake, 
my Si. John!" 

The mfsllcal interpretation of llie first few lines is said to be : Ai 
the wine glows in the cup like the reflection of a ruddy cheek, so in 
the goblel of my heart I have seen the reflection ol God, ihe tnw 



Belovei 
6. Ii is related that upon a certain c 



hen Hafli 



a goblet of wine, and ai he look it be saw in it Ihe refleciion of 

irescent moon overhead. The incident suggesled this veise lo 

I should say thai the anecdote was ol doubtful authenticity. 



ODE XXVI. 

t, Hafii wiole this poem upon Ihe death of hii son, 

J. Roseniweig. in his edition of the Dhnm. says that the allusion 

is 10 the dusi and water which God kneaded into the body ol Adam. 

and that, out of derision. Halii calls the human body a house of joy. 



% 



Airail. Ihe angel o( death, siho tore Ihe Seven handluls tiom the 
eanh. bm hearing her lamentalioriB, promued her that when man 
ceased [o live his substance should [elum to the eanh from whence 
it had been taken. With Ihe clay that Atrail brought him God 
moulded the figure oF man. and when it was finished he leh it latiy 
days to dry. The angels came often to gaie upon it. and Eblis. 
kicking il with bis tool, found Ibal ll rang hollow. When Ihe (iguie 
of day wu dry, God breathed the breath of lite into its nosttils, and 
ordered Ihe angels to submit to Ihe man he bad created. But 
Eblis refused, saying that fae had been created of pure fire, and 
would not serve ■ hollow mould of clay; lar which reason GihI 
cast him out ol Paradise. The rest ol ihe angels acknowledged il^e 
superiority of Adam after God had made him tell them Ihe names 
ol all the creatures of Ihe earth, though they had at Rrsl protested 
Ihal it was nol seemly Ihal they should bo* down to him, tot their 
love for God was greater Ihan his. ll is wtlh this legend in his 
mind that Hafii speaks of the angels as standing al the larem door. 

where they must knock in vain, and as moulding a wine-cup with 
Ihe despised clay out of which the human Itody was moulded. I 
Ihink he means thai man himself is Ihe vessel inio which divine 
love and wisdom are poured ; and when he says Ihat Ihe angels first 
brought him wine, he means that by Iheir example they showed him 
what 11 was to be intoiicated by the coniemplation of God, 

3. ■■ Concerning Ihe forbidden fruii," says Sale in a nole to Ihe 
second chaplLT o( the Koran. " Ihe Mohammedans, as well as itie 
Christians, have different opinions. Some say it was an ear of 
wheat, some will have il 10 have been a fig Iree, and others a tine." 

There are supposed to be serenty-two seels in Islam. Many 
Mohammedan writers compare them 10 Ihe sevenly-lwo branches 
of the hmily of Noah after the Babylonian confusion of tongues 
and the dispenal of Ihe children of Adam. 

ODE X.\XVIi. 

1. It Is related Ihat Ghlyasuddin Piirabi, who succeeded his 
biher to Ihe throne of Bengal In the year 1367, fell sick. During 
his illness he was nursed by three faithful handmaidens whose 
names were Cypress, Tutip, and Rose, and owing to their care he 
evenlually recovered. The rest of Ihe Sultan's ladies were jealous 
of the gratitude i ' ' 






d them contemptuously " Uie Ihre 
washed Ihe king's body while 



balh won 



tbereCon determined lo do Ihem honor b^ com mero orating their 
devotion in ■ poem, ind to this end he compoied the first line of ■ 
conplei. and ordeted Ihe poels or his court lo complete the ode. 
The line no thus: "SUi hadis-i-sarro giil o Uleh miiavad" — 
Cup-bearer, a late runs of a Cypms. a Rote, and a Tulip. But [he 
poets were unable lo perlonn the task lo ihe king's saiistaction, and 
al lenfrth some one sugg«ti?d llut Ihe line should be sent <o Hafii 
of Shirai. Ihe bme of whose great skill had reached Bengal. This 
was accordingly done, and Hafii composed the ode here iranslaled, 

the discursive in poetry) was much delighled. The three cups of 
irlne are an allusion lo the three maidens vrbo washed (he king's 
body : the parrots of India ate Ihe court poets ol Ghlyasuddln. and 
Ihe Persian sweetmeat is the ode that Hafii sent lo Ben^. 

4. Samir. Al Saniirl belonged, sajf Ihe Mohammedans, 10 a eer- 
lain liibe among Ihe Jews called Ihe Samaritans, whence his name. 
In this Ihe Mohammedans strangely betray Iheir ignoi«ice of his- 
tory, for the Samaritans were nol formed into a people, nor did Ihey 
bear that name, until many t^es later. Some say ihat he was a 
pctMClyte. but a hypocriiical one, and originally of KennaD or lome 
Olber country. His real name was Musa ibn Dhafar. He wat a 
nM^dan and ui alchemist Pharaoh employed him as a riToI 10 
Moses when the latter worked miracles with his hand and his staff, 
bul Al Samiri was unable to show wonders as great as those per- 
formed by Moses. It was he and not Aaron, according to Moliam- 
medao Iradilian. who cast the golden call. The calf was made ol 
the ornaments of gold and silver and other materials which Ihe 
IsriKlites had borrowed from the Egyptians ; for Aaron, who com- 
manded in his brother's absence, having ordered Al Samiri 10 col- 
lect those ornaments From the people, who carried on a wicked 
commerce with them, and to keep Ihem together till the return of 
Moses, Al Samiri, undemanding Ihe founder's art, put thera all 
together Inio a furnace, to melt ihem down into one mass, which 
came Out in the form of a calf. The Israelites, accustomed lo the 
Bgypdan idolatry, paying a religious worship to this image. Al 
Samiri weni fiirlber, and took some dusi from the Ibolsleps of Ihe 
horse of Ihe angel Gabriel, who marched at Ihe head of the people, 
and threw it inio the moalh of the calf, which immediately began (o 
low, and became animated ; tor such was Ihe virtue of that dust 
(Sale, Notes to lecond and Iwcnly^second chapters of Ihe Koran.) 
Al Samiri is mentioned by name in the twenty'Second chapter of ihe 
Koran : "Al Samiri led Ihem astray." 



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