ma
ARTHUR PROBSTHAIN
Oriental Bookseller
41 Gt. Russell Street
LONDON, W.C. I
THE ROSE GARDEN
THE
ROSE GARDEN
OF PERSIA
BY
LOUISA STUART COSTELLO
Author of
' Specimens of the Early 1'oetry of France,'
etc.
A;i (,\ V S^.
J ..." .
.AA*JI ^>^-ik o' j ^iAl>
^*A1
NEW EDITION
LONDON
GIBBINGS AND COMPANY
18 BURY STREET, W.C.
1899
First Edition, Longman, 1845.
Second Edition, Bell, 1887.
New Edition, 1899 : with added
matter, and an Essay by
JOSEPH JACOBS.
CONTENTS
PAGE
OF PERSIAN POETRY .... ix
INTRODUCTION xxxv
ORNAMENTAL COMPOSITION . . . xlix
THE SUFIS i
Their Tenets ..... 2
The Object of their Devotion . . 3
Their Sentiments in Verse, by Hafiz . 4
Ode, expressive of their Devotional
Fervour ......
Favourite Subjects of Eastern Poets . II
The Most Distinguished Poets . . 12
FERDUSI 13
The Shah Namah . . . . 15
Satire on King Mahmoud ... 19
Anecdote of Sebectighin ... 23
99*^41
Anecdote of Prince Mahmoud and his
Father
Alleged Origin of the Shah Namah
Death of Ferdusi ....
The Gardens of the Daughters of
Afrasiab. (From the Shah Namah. )
Heroes of Ferdusi's Poem .
Jamshid's Courtship ....
Legend of the Simorgh, or Anca
Poets before Ferdusi ....
The Regrets of Bokhara. By Roduki .
ESSEDI OF Tus .
His Poem of Day and Night
UNSURI . . .
His First Meeting with Ferdusi .
TOGRAY
His Eulogy on Kashmeer .
MOASI, KING OF POETS .
His Readiness at Extemporising .
His Mystical Odes . . . .
KHAKANI ....
His Delight in Solitude
His Adventure with his Patron
His Gazel, or Amatory Poem
30
33
35
43
45
46
47
54
54
57
58
62
63
63
67
67
68
OMAR KHIAM, THE VOLTAIRE OF PERSIA
His Profession of Faith, in Verse
His Poems ......
His Ridicule of Predestination
Azz' EDDIN ELMOCADESSI
His Poem on Flowers and Birds .
XIZAMI .......
His Principal Works ....
The Loves of Khosrii and Shireen
Legend concerning Ferhad .
SADI .......
His Opinion of Women
The Bostan and Gulistan
ATTAR .......
THE MOOLAH OF RUM ..
His Ode, The Fairest Land
HAFIZ, THE PERSIAN ANACREOX
Curious Dispute at his Death
His Tomb visited by Pilgrims
The Kasidah and Gazel
The Women of Shiraz
The Green Old Man .
vn
PAGE
70
71
73
77
Si
Si
89
90
99
100
102
107
The Way to Paradise, from Perid Namah 107
110
112
"5
116
124
129
viii CONTENTS
PAGE
JAMI 131
Poem of Yussuf and Zuleika . . 133
Profusion at Eastern Marriages . . 145
Beauty of Yussuf .... 146
HATIFI 155
Poem of Mejnoun and Leila . . 156
SCHEIK FEIZI 167
His Life 168
The Mahabarit 169
Story of Khaja-Aiass and Mehr-el-
Nissar 170
Poem of the Desert-Born . . .176
OF PERSIAN POETRY
How has it come about that of all
the poetries of the East, that of
Persia alone has to some extent
made itself at home on English soil ?
While Kalidasa and Hariri are prac-
tically unknown, Hafiz and Firdausi,
and above all, Omar Khayyam, have
become in a measure household
words among lovers of poetry in
England. Yet Kalidasa's dramas
are the only ones worthy of con-
sideration outside the charmed circle
which has been influenced, directly
or indirectly, by the Greek drama ;
while Hariri holds a position in
x OF PERSIAN POETRY
Arabic poetry which is unique in
the history of Oriental literature.
Yet nothing is known of Kalidasa or
Hariri by even well-read Englishmen,
who are familiar with the adventures
of Sohrab and Rustum, and regard
Omar's quatrains as a sort of reve-
lation. In poetry, Persia and Persia
alone represents for us the East.
How is this?
At first sight it might seem a mere
chance result that Firdausi and Omar
have been fortunate enough to find
translators through whom they could
make an adequate appeal to English
readers. Matthew Arnold's versions
from Firdausi (which, by the way,
were not directly from the Persian
text, but from Mohl's French prose
translation) come nearest to the
nobleness and simplicity of Homer
in all English verse, but that noble-
ness and simplicity exist in a large
measure in his original, and in cherish-
I
OF PERSIAN POETRY xi
ing Sohrab and Rustum \ve are doing
homage to one of the greatest of the
world's poets. And Omar? What
can we say of Omar that has not
been said better already by some
of his innumerable worshippers ? for
Omar just now is a cult, and seems
to be the only religion of many. How
far he owes that position to Fitz-
Gerald we may discuss later, but it
may be remarked here that there is
no Calderon cult or ^schylus cult
analogous to that of Omar, and yet
FitzGerald translated both Calderon
and ^schylus. We may surely, then,
credit Omar with much of the qualities
which have made his Rubdiydt the
favourite of so many poets and
thinkers. So our original puzzle
remains : Why should these two
Persian poets be the only ones that
have acclimatised themselves in Eng-
land ?
Can we see here some subtle sym-
^44-x}
Y ? /
"8-f-**
** /
xii OF PERSIAN POETRY
pathy between the Persian Aryans
and their European cousins ? Pro-
fessor Max Mu'ller would probably
assent to this explanation, but the
high-caste Hindu has also the Aryan
cousinship, and yet neither the
Ramayana nor the Mahabharata has
become a household word in England,
and as I have said before, Kalidasa
is equally unknown here. And even
as applied to Persia, the Aryan theory
scarcely holds good, for there have
been three periods of literary activity
in Persia, corresponding to three
different forms of the language known
to the pundits as Zend, Pahlavi, and
Persian. If it were merely a question
of racial sympathy, the Zendavesta
or the obscure products of the Pahlavi
literature should have equal claim to
appeal to us as Firdausi or Omar ;
but it is only when the Pahlavi, or
Middle Persian, becomes transformed
by its contact with Arabic into
I
^*
4
4
OF PERSIAN POETRY xiii
Persian properly so called, that
poetry written in it seems capable
of appealing to the European mind.
Here, then, we seem on the thresh-
old of an explanation of the appeal
of Persian poetry to Englishmen. It
is when Persia comes in contact with
Islam in other words, an Aryan race
with a Semitic religion that we see
produced a tone of mind analogous
and sympathetic to the European,
which may also be described as Aryan
tinged with Semitic religion. The
analogy may even go further : just
as Europe, when it took up the
religion of Judaea, gave it a specific
form and tone, so the Persians, when
they adopted Islam, gave it a special
form which constitutes the sole break
in the monotony of the Mohammedan
religion from Timbuctoo to China.
The Shiite heresy is peculiar to Persia,
and has given rise (as readers of
Matthew Arnold will remember) to
i g
T ^
-x-
xiv OF PERSIAN POETRY
a special religious rite represented
in a Passion Play, which again has
its analogies among the Semitised
Aryans of Europe. Altogether, there-
fore, a good case may be made out
for attributing the undoubted sym-
pathy which exists between Persian
poetry and the West to the remark-
able analogies which exist between
their spiritual lives.
Yet for poetry we need poets, and
no amountof spiritual conflict between
race and religion will produce poetry
or poets, unless other conditions are
present. It is not for three hundred
years after Persia had adopted Islam
that we get Persian poetry worthy of
the name I leave Rudagi out of the
account so that the mere adoption
of an alien creed was clearly hot the
determining cause of Persian supre-
macy in poetry. It was a revival of
the old Persian valour, and the con-
quering instincts which can be traced
OF PERSIAN POETRY .\v
through Chosroes to Cyrus, that
brought the national mind to flower
in poetry, and it was at the conquer-
ing court of Mahmud of Ghazna that
Persian poetry ceased to be local, and
took upon itself a world-tone. Mah-
mud is said to have assembled about
him a Round Table of no less than
four hundred accredited poets, of
whom FiRDAUSl was the king.
Every one knows the story of the
tragedy connected with Firdausi's
great work, the Skaknamah, or Book
of Shahs. Heine has told in German,
Mr. Gosse in English, how the poet
was promised a toman for every verse
of his great work, and was then paid
in silver tomans, not in gold ; how in
revenge he handed the sixty thousand
silver tomans to the bath attendants
as a pourboire, and then went forth
into exile, from which he issued
scathing satires on the Shah's some-
what beclouded ancestry ; how the
xvi OF PERSIAN POETRY
Shah repented him, and sent the due
sixty thousand golden tomans, which
reached Firdausi only when he was
being carried on his bier to his last
resting-place. The noble scorn of
the poet was a fit reflex in his own
life of the tone of his great work.
Here in the Shahnamah, Firdausi
(the Man of Paradise) had work to
do analogous to that which European
poets were just beginning to attempt
about the same time as his epoch
(940-1020). The Song of Roland re-
calls to the memory of Frenchmen
one of the great heroes of their past
with the same directness and nobility
with which Firdausi recalls to the
Persians the whole story of their past
in its most heroic aspects. The Shah-
namah resembles more, perhaps, a
Malory in verse, or rather, if the
many verse originals out of which
Malory composed his prose romance
could be brought together in one
OF PERSIAN POETRY xvii
volume, and re-written by a great
poet, that would resemble the ShaJi-
namah of Firdausi. Curiously enough,
the central incident of the whole epic
the single combat of the two heroes,
father and son, in which the son falls
is reproduced almost exactly in the
early heroic literature of Ireland, and
suggestions have been made that
there was an original Aryan myth or
legend from which both these Aryan
nations took the episode. This is,
however, going too far ; in a fighting
age the natural pathos of such a
situation could easily occur indepen-
dently to two poetic minds. But in
the fierce joy of fight, in the chivalrous
character of his knights, in the nobility
of his tone, Firdausi stands by the
side of the best mediaeval romancers.
If in the matter of his epic Firdausi
is Western and mediaeval, in form
(like all the Persian poets) he derives
from the Arabs. It is a doubtful
- ;
^'
xviii OF PERSIAN POETRY
point whether rhyme in general does
not come from the practice of the
Arabic poets. There is still much to
be said for its derivation from Arabic
Spain through Provence to all West
Europe ; but be this as it may, there
is no doubt that the Matheraivi used
by the Persians for epic and didactic
purposes comes directly from imita-
tion of the Arabic poets. Whether
there was anything in the tone of the
early Arabic poems of chivalry, written
in or inspired by the Times of Ignor-
ance, which influenced Persian poetry
is a more obscure question. Imru'l-
kais is as chivalrous as any hero of
Firdausi or Malory, but his exploits
are not told in epic form ; his were
songs of triumph, written by the
hero-poet himself. The matter of
Firdausi's great poem comes from
Persian tradition, even if the verse is
couched in Arabic form, and the tone
has its analogues in Arabic poems of
OF PERSIAN POETRY xix
chivalry, like those enshrined in the
Kitab Alaghaiii. Before parting from
Firdausi, it may be interesting to
mention that his influence had lasted
on down to the present century, to
such an extent that there is record
of an epic poem, written by a Persian
in India, in honour of the great and
noble George the Fourth, and en-
titled Georgenamah.
The next great name in Persian
poetry is that which, by the genius
of FitzGerald, has become represen-
tative of it The main questions of
the art of OMAR KHAYYAM (1050-
1124) have been threshed out almost
adnauseam in these latter days. That
FitzGerald represented the spirit of
the Rubdiydt, rather than their actual
contents, turns out to be somewhat
of an exaggeration. Though by no
means a ' crib,' at least the majority
of his quatrains occur somewhere or
other in the Persian text FitzGerald
xx OF PERSIAN POETRY
adopted the only possible method for
a translation which is to be itself
literature, i.e. he re-wrote in the spirit
of his original. The recipe is a
simple one, but unless you are a poet
yourself, your re-writing will scarcely
be poetry. The point to notice about
FitzGerald's version is, that only when
he attempts to re-clothe the spirit of
Omar Khayyam does his version
reach high poetic merit. He was
translating all his life, from Greek,
from Spanish, and he even attempted
another version from the Persian, but
none of these translations meri-
torious as they are are real contri-
butions to English literature. The
moral of that is surely that it is the
spirit of Omar that gives value to
FitzGerald, not FitzGerald that has
unduly aroused admiration for Omar's
merits.
Yet the universal cult of Omar
cannot be altogether explained by
OF PERSIAN POETRY xxi
the merit of the version by which he
has made his appeal. He represents
a mood which is rare indeed, but
occurs at intervals to almost all
races. Ecclesiastes represents it in
the Scriptures, Renan in modern
French literature, Ibsen, perhaps, in
the drama of the day. Disillusion-
ment, pessimism, agnosticism what-
ever we call it comes to most men
in their own lives, and to most nations
at periods of transition. It were idle
to guess what were the circumstances
in Omar's life and surroundings that
led to the quasi-agnostic pessimism
and Epicureanism that have proved
so attractive to the last generation
of Englishmen. For there are signs
that the mood which he represents
is dying away. Those who care for
Kipling are not likely to be enthusi-
astic for Omar, and the rising tide is
now with the song of action.
It is possible that Omar became
ii OF PERSIAN POETRY
disillusionised by seeing the fate of
his former schoolmates. One, his
patron, was raised to the giddy
height of a vizier, and then dashed
down again : the other, the notorious
Old Man of the Mountain, who
founded the sect of the Assassins,
died in old age without suffering
any punishment. Or possibly the
pressure of the Turk upon his native
country led him to look upon all
things dismally ; or perhaps he is
an early example of the Faust dis-
illusionment, when a man like Omar
acquires all the knowledge of his
age, and then finds that that too
is vanity. By the favour of his
former schoolmate, the vizier, he
became astronomer-royal of Persia,
and works of his are still extant on
algebra and geometry, while others
on astronomy and philosophy have
been lost. It is clear that he had
acquired all that passed for know-
OF PERSIAN POETRY x>
ledge in his age, and yet he felt
that the passing hour was the only
reality.
It is scarcely likely that Omar's
pessimism was the result of an
elaborate philosophical scheme of
the universe akin to that of Schopen-
hauer or Hartmann. Mr. John Payne,
his latest translator, attempts to make
out, indeed, that at the root of Omar's
quatrains is an elaborate system of
philosophy, akin to, if not actually
derived from, the pessimistic panthe-
ism of the Vedas. He is obliged to
own, indeed, that there is no evid-
ence of the Vedas as a system being
adopted or known in Persia in Omar's
time, and the resemblance he notes
between isolated quatrains of Omar
and occasional utterances of the
Vedas on the nullity of the world
are scarcely more than coincidences
of mood, rather than of thought It
is because Omar's philosophy is tern-
xxiv OF PERSIAN POETRY
peramental rather than didactic that
it has had such an appeal in these
latter days. FitzGcrald has helped
to give a misleading effect to Omar's
poetry by his selection, and the
method by which he has strung
them together. In the original they
are, for the most part, disjointed
utterances, written, it is true, in a
uniform mood of revolt and pessi-
mism, but scarcely connected from
one quatrain to another. It must
be remembered that the quatrain, or
Rubdiy, is a form of verse derived by
the Persians from the Arabs, and by
no means confined to Omar. Hafiz
himself has nearly seventy Rubdiydt
included in his complete works, and
Sadi also wrote many Rubdiydt. Now,
it is the essence of this form that it
is complete in four lines, as con-
trasted with the Kasida, which is
longer and more connected, and the
' Girdle Rhyme,' which often extends
OF PERSIAN POETRY xxv
to a considerable number of verses,
all connected by a ' girdle ' of a single
rhyme. Merely, therefore, as a con-
sequence of the form chosen by
Omar, it were idle to seek for a
connected system out of his Rubdiydt
except that connection which comes
from uniformity of mood.
On the other hand, there is no
reason to doubt the sincerity of the
scepticism and Epicureanism dis-
played in Omar's verses. El Kifti,
the Arab literary historian, expressly
declares that his orthodoxy was
doubted, and that he adopted the
conventional rites, including the pil-
grimage to Mecca, for prudential
reasons. But for the protection of
his friend the vizier, there is little
doubt that Omar might have suffered
severely for his bold utterances. It
would be indeed strange if a set of
sham sentiments should have so
strong an appeal eight centuries
-
'
kY
OF PERSIAN POETRY
later to men speaking a
tongue.
The attempt has been made to
represent Omar's outspoken praise
of the pleasures of the senses as
mystical, Sufic utterances. This is
but a weak invention of the enemy,
and it were idle to see in the praises
of wine the laudations of the mystic
communion of the individual with
the World Soul. That may be true
of Hafiz, as we shall see, but all
tradition, and the very nature of the
Rubdiydt, indicate that Omar meant
what he said in praising the joie de
vivre. There comes a time in the
life of most men devoted to study
and thought when they cry out with
Renan that perhaps les gais are right,
and Omar represents that mood. He
does not penetrate to the deeper
stage of the Hebrew sage, with whom
all is vanity even wine and women.
True Sufic mysticism is represented
OF PERSIAN POETRY xxvii
by the three poets known to us by
their takkallus, or pen - names, as
Sadi, Rumi, and Hafiz. In all three
we have distinct evidence of the
theological Pantheism underlying
their poetic utterances. SADI (i 184-
1292), during his wanderings in India,
risked his life in destroying a statue
of Siva, when he detected the impos-
ture by which the goddess was made
to raise her hands in front of her
worshippers ; and besides this, on his
return to his native place Shiraz,
where he ultimately died, he preached
and wrote on theology, giving in ex-
press terms his Sufic doctrines. Both
his Bus tan (Fruit Garden) and Gulis-
tdn (Rose Garden), the former in
verse, the latter in prose intermingled
with verse, give in imaginative form
the same doctrine expressed in his
theological works. He wrote in
Hindustani and Arabic, as well as
Persian, and from his Indian travels
xxviii OF PERSIAN POETRY
we may perhaps attribute to him
what Mr. Payne without evidence
attributes to Omar, some evidence
of the Hindu Pantheism in his
thought. RUMI (1207-1273), who
took his name from dwelling in the
empire of Rum or Asia Minor,
showed his theological convictions
by founding the order of Mawlawi
Dervishes, who still exist and flourish
throughout the realms of Islam. His
Mathnawai does not, however, pro-
fess that mystical identity of the
body and the World Soul which is
the dangerous tendency of all mys-
ticism.
With HAFIZ (pbiit 1391) the case
is somewhat different. Many of his
verses speak in all too glowing terms
of the pleasures of the flesh, and it
would be almost as difficult in his
case to interpret these passages mys-
tically as in the case of Omar. But
it does not follow that his other
I
1
i
OF PERSIAN POETRY
verses, which deal with as much
fervour with the prospects of union
with the World Soul, are not equally
earnest and real. Your reformed
rake often makes the best of peni-
tents, and we have the recent case
of Verlaine to prove that a man
may write most spiritually and most
carnally. When Hafiz writes
' The dust of this body of mine is the Veil of
the face of the soul,
Behind the Veil they treat me as men treat
parrots,' 1
he is as sincere as ever Omar can
be ; or when at the end of one of
his Kasidas he gives utterance to
the prayer
' Oh, come and sweep away the very exist-
ence of Hafiz,
That in Thy presence none may hear that
I exist at all '
1 That is, they put the looking-glass of the
world in front of man, just as those who train a
parrot put a looking-glass in front of him, in order
that he should think the sounds he hears come
from another parrot.
x.xx OF PERSIAN POETRY
we have the very voice of the
'wearers of wool' (Suf), or of the
followers of crofyia (whichever be the
true etymology of ' Sufi.') It is be-
sides reported of him that when he
heard that Mansur of Hallaj had
been put to death for saying ' Anal
hakk* (I am the Truth), the very
central doctrine of Sufism all that
Hafiz remarked was, ' He should
not have divulged the mystery.'
There is thus no reason to doubt
the genuineness both of Hafiz's
mysticism and his sybaritism. The
conjunction is not so rare that it
need surprise us. The very form
which he chose as his favourite
verse the Ghazal lends itself to
both tendencies. A number of
couplets, each rhyming in the last
hemistich, and the last giving the
poet's name, as in the example
above, can only deal with personal
feelings, which for a poet are almost
1
c,
4-
I
4
w
$
I
4
I
'W:
OF PERSIAN POETRY
invariably connected with love of
woman or of God. That in some
way the Sufis identified the two is
part of the system which renders
the whole movement so interesting,
and to some extent so bizarre.
Whether we are to see any Indian
influence in the whole movement, or
whether it was the natural reaction
against an asceticism forced upon
an Aryan race by an alien creed, it
would be difficult to decide. But
with regard to the former supposi-
tion, it is noteworthy that the doc-
trine is called Tarikat (the Path),
which certainly recalls the Four
Paths of Buddhism, while the stages of
perfection are each termed ManzilJid
(roadside inn), which carries out the
same conception. But by the time
of Hafiz, Sufism had formed almost
a convention of Persian poetry, and
it is remarkable that the Sunnite or
orthodox censors removed from his
xxxii OF PERSIAN POETRY
verse all indications of his Shiite
heresy, but were content to let the
Sufism alone.
This conventional character of
Sufism in Persian poetry is dis-
played in its last representative,
JAMI (1414-1492). Among his numer-
ous works (said to have amounted
to ninety-nine volumes), his treat-
ment of two of the most popular
subjects of Islamic legend, Ytisufand
Zulaikha, and Sdldman and Absdl,
deals with the subject mystically from
the Sufic standpoint. The latter has
been translated by FitzGerald, and
we can learn from his translation
how little effective Sufic mysticism
is as compared with Omar's scepti-
cism. Yet both may be equally
traced to the contrast of race and
creed on which I have insisted
throughout. With some and those
the rarer spirits such a contrast
leads to scepticism and doubt, and
OF PERSIAN POETRY
to clutching at the pleasures of the
passing day ; while other minds
less earnest with themselves, per-
haps, but desirous of joining in
the common creed find the solu-
tion in mystic communion. Both
tendencies are strong with us in
England to-day. On the one hand
we have the cult of Omar and the
agnostic creed, on the other hand
Theosophy and the Society for
Psychical Research. Both tendencies
are represented, as we have seen, to
the fullest extent in Persian poetry,
and it is for this reason that these
' Orient pearls at random strung,'
alone of all the verse of the East,
have made their appeal to modern
men.
JOSEPH JACOBS.
July 31, 1899.
THE softest and the richest language in the
world is the Persian : it is so peculiarly adapted
to the purposes of poetry, that it is acknow-
ledged there have been more poets produced
in Persia than in all the nations of Europe
i together : yet, except Sadi and Hafiz, and, it
xxxviii INTRODUCTION
Mr. Forbes Falconer, in The Asiatic Journal,
are almost alone, and appear but too
rarely.
The late lamented Sir Gore Ouseley, at
the time of his death, was preparing a work
for the press on Persian literature, which
the Asiatic Society is now printing. I have
been allowed, by the courtesy of that Society,
to whom I am deeply indebted, to see the
MS., and had I done so previously to this
work being ready for publication, I should
have felt my own attempt unnecessary :
the accomplished author has not, however,
given lyrical specimens of the poets in
English.
' The mine of Persian literature,' observes
an elegant writer, ' contains every substance,
from the dazzling diamond to the useful
granite, and its materials may be employed
with equal success to build castles in the air
or upon earth.'
Poetry has ever been, and is still, held in
the greatest veneration in the East, and its
admirers include almost the whole popula-
tion ; respect and esteem attend on the
aspirant for poetic fame, and even the
smallest spark of genius is hailed with
delight. The power and effect of the art
are so much appreciated by the Arabs, that
they have given it the name of ' legitimate
magic ' ; and ' to string pearls ' expresses,
INTRODUCTION
in their figurative language, to compose
verses.
Many Eastern anecdotes are related of
the early dawn of poetry in the youthful
mind, and the admiration its appearance
excited ; amongst others, the following is
characteristic : The celebrated Abderrah-
man, son of Hissan, having, when a child,
been stung by a wasp, the insect being one
he did not recognise, he ran to his father,
crying out that 'he had been wounded by
a creature spotted with yellow and white,
like the border of his vest.' On hearing
these words uttered in a measure of Arabian
verse, as elegant as natural, Hissan became
aware of his son's genius for poetry.
The first rhythmical composition in the
Persian language is recorded to have been
the production of Bihram Goar, a prince who
lived in the fifth century A.D. The occasion
of his becoming a poet was this : He was
tenderly attached to a female slave, named
Dilaram, who generally attended him in all
his parties of pleasure. One day the piince
encountered a lion when in the company of
his favourite, seized him, after a struggle, by
the ears, and, holding him captive in this
manner for some time, in spite of the
animal's efforts to free himself, exultingly
exclaimed, in sounding verse, ' I am as the
raging elephant. I am as an active and
xl
INTRODUCTION
mighty lion ! ' Dilaram, being accustomed
to reply to whatever the king said in the
same strain as her royal lover, addressed
him extempore with a fine compliment,
in which, punning on his name and that
of his father, she compared him to a ' lofty
mountain.'
Bihiam, being struck with the cadence and
jingle of these accidental verses, pointed out
their beauties to the learned men of his
court, and desired them to produce some-
thing in imitation. This they accordingly
attempted, but without ever exceeding a
single distich in any of their compositions.
Several other origins are given by the
Persians to their earliest poetry, but, except '
occasional lines more beautiful to the
ear than the mind, there is little known
before the tenth century of the Christian
era.
The first poem, expressing sentiment, to
be met with in Persian records, is the follow-
ing:
' Why should the antelope, as once of yore,
Bound o'er the plain, as swiftly as before?
Alas ! why should his boasted speed be tried,
To quit the spot where those he loves abide? '
Bigotry and ignorance combined to pre-
vent the growth of poetry in Persia, as well
as in most other countries. It is related of
one of their princes that on a manuscript
.-"
INTRODUCTION
xli
being shown him, containing a poetical
history of the loves of Wamik and Asrah,
he exclaimed that the Koran was the only
book he desired his subjects to read, and
commanded it to be burned, together with
any others found in his dominions. Arabic
continued long to be the court language,
used in all transactions of state, the native
Persian being thought barbarous and im-
polite, in the same manner as in early times
the French superseded the native English
in our own country. Ferdusi was the
Chaucer of Persia, but there were a few
others, as with us, who had already struggled
to break the way for the great poet.
Jn poetical composition there is much art'
used by Eastern writers, and the arrange-
ment of their language is a work of great
care. Numerous are the rules by which they
must guide themselves in their verses ; as,
for instance, the art, which in Arabic signifies
setting jewels, by which words are selected
which bear a similarity in sound. Of this
custom, varied in a number of ways, and
all considered to possess great merit in a
skilful hand, we have, in the poetry of the
troubadours and early French and English
writers, many examples. In translation this
would appear little better than a string of '
puns.
One favourite measure is called Suja,
xlii
INTRODUCTION
literally the cooing of doves, and it frequently
ends a poem. The letters must be equal or
the same, and the rhyme agreeing : the same
word must sometimes appear in different
parts of the distich ; sometimes an anagram
must be made ; sometimes the sentence
must be capable of being read backwards
and forwards. To attempt examples of these
punning conceits would be useless and little
desirable; of course, in the original language
alone could they be understood. The fol-
lowing is one of the easiest :
' They call me madman if 'tis so,
Bind with thy locks that softly flow
The madman, that at least he be
Held in thy chains and slave to thee.'
The poetical compositions of the Persians
are of several kinds. The Gazel, or Ode,
literally signifies taking delight in the society
of the fair sex, and is used technically for
several couplets composed in one measure.
As a general rule, the Gazel should not con-
tain more than twelve distichs, though some
poets have greatly exceeded this length.
The usual subjects of the Gazels are beauty,
love, or friendship ; but frequently they are
employed to set forth the praises of wine,
and many treat of the mysteries of the Sufis.
The poet generally introduces his name in
the last couplet.
INTRODUCTION
xliii
The Kassideh, or Idyl, resembles the
Gazel, except that it has more distichs. It
may consist of either praise or satire, morality
or other subjects. The Persians do not
extend the length beyond one hundred and
twenty distichs ; but the Arabians some-
times make it exceed five hundred.
The Tushbib signifies a representation of
the season of youth and beauty, descriptions
of love, praise, or a relation of circum-
stances.
The Mesnavi is called wedded, its rhymes
and measure being even, and each distich
having distinct endings.
The other measures are less common, or,
at least, their explanation is less required, as
their peculiarities could scarcely be made
sensible to the reader of an English transla-
tion.
'When Niebuhr and his scientific com-
panions,' remarks a writer on eastern litera-
ture, ' set out on their travels to the East,
they were instructed by their patron, the
King of Denmark, to have nothing to do
luith poetry. But he might as well have shut
the book of knowledge from them at once ;
for the fact is, that in the Arabic, as well as
Persian language, not only books of polite
literature, but histories without number, and
all manner of treatises on science, are re-
corded in verse.'
mr^i^m
INTRODUCTION
Physics, mathematics, and ethics ; medi-
cine, natural history, astronomy, and gram-
mar, and even cookery, all lend themselves
to verse in the East.
Amongst the most famous works of this
kind is the Kitdb Aldghdni, or Book of
Songs, by Abu'lfaraj Ali Ben Hassayn Ben
Mahomed Korashi Isfahani, who was born
in the year of the Hegira 284. He was
brought up at Bagdad, was deeply learned
in the history of the Arabs, and in all other
knowledge, and took his place with the most
distinguished men of his time. He devoted
fifty years to the composition of this, his
celebrated work, and died in 356, having lost
his reason some time previous to his death.
The Kitdh Aldghdni is an important bio-
graphical work, notwithstanding its title,
treating of grammar, history, and science,
as well as poetry.
The work was unknown in France till it
was discovered in the expedition to Egypt,
and brought home by M. Raige. The
manuscript he procured is now in the Royal
Library : it consists of four folio volumes.
M. Von Hammer is in possession of a copy.
The basis is a collection of one hundred
songs made for the Caliph Raschid : the
airs are given, with commentaries and
parallels. It may answer, in some respects,
to our Percy's Reliques.
>
.But it is with subjects purely poetical
and imaginative that the present work
has to do.
Who is there that is not familiar with
those beautiful verses of Sir William Jones,
translated from Hafiz ?
' Sweet maid, if thou wouldst charm my sight,' etc.
This learned man and elegant and accom-
plished poet once, as he informs us, proposed
making a collection of Persian poetry, and
giving it an English dress ; if he had for-
tunately done so, and rendered the ideas as
finely as he has done in the above poem, he
would have made a valuable present to his
country, for none could have executed the
task so well ; but his labours and avocations
were too many and too various to admit of
his performing the task he desired. No one,
since his time, has attempted it, although
numerous poems have been, from time to
time, presented to the English reader ; and
Ferdusi and Sadi, in particular, have found
their translators in learned and industrious
scholars.
Atkinson, Cheze, and Von Hammer have
in England, France, and Germany done
much towards rendering the greatest Persian
poets known ; but a less learned hand may
perhaps succeed in making them more
familiar, and, by collecting a great number
INTRODUCTION
of poets together, enable the reader to judge
and compare at his leisure. Not that it would
be possible to offer specimens of one-quarter
of the myriad poets of Persia !
So great has been my own delight and
enthusiasm oh the subject for many years,
that I cannot help hoping that others may
feel equally interested with myself, and happy
to have found a new source of admiration of
the graceful and beautiful.
I scarcely dare address a word to the
oriental scholar in extenuation of my attempt
to render his darling poets into my northern
tongue : I only trust he will forgive the bold-
ness for the sake of the devotion, and, instead
of being severe, will at once excuse the
execution ; considering only the motive,
which is to make 'familiar in the mouth as
household words' those unknown and un-
sought treasures, which he alone is capable
of prizing to their full value.
To the Orientalist is known the extreme
difficulty of conveying in any European
tongue the exact meaning of the poet : the
Germans have perhaps succeeded best in
consequence of the construction of their
language ; but mere words alone in Per-
sian sometimes express so much that the
translator finds all his efforts unavailing to
render them of the same force. For instance,
the Persians have words and names which
at one view exhibit many qualities without
more explanation, and which throw a charm
over their songs, impossible to reach.
Such words as express streiving-roses,
emerald- hue, rose - cheeked, rose -lipped,
jasmins-scented, etc., save the poet infinite
trouble, but are a great obstacle to the
translator. Perhaps it is the very circum-
stance of endeavouring to render these ideas
correctly which has cramped all who have
tried to give versions of the Persian poets,
so that almost the sole exceptions are the
few poems given by Sir William Jones,
in a manner unrivalled both for truth and
sweetness.
Ferdusi's Shah Namah, the great epic,
in an English garb, inspires as little admira-
tion, as a whole, as any of the translators of
the Lusiad do to an English reader : Pro-
fessor Cheze's Mejnun and Leila, elegant
and interesting as the translation is, is yet
somewhat tedious from its very correctness,
and Sadi's fine poems, the Bostdn and
the Gulistdn, though they have been well
rendered in English prose, are somewhat
ineffective, and it requires the genius of
Moore himself to translate adequately his
brother minstrel, Hafiz. A few extracts
only of these long poems are all I offer.
As I know little of the Persian poets in
the original, and am generally indebted to
xlviii
INTRODUCTION
the above, and other learned authors, who
have furnished accurate translations, I
am the more fearful of the success of
my endeavour to make them popular, in
spite of the bonne volonte I may bring to
the task ; but, I repeat, it has been one
so very pleasing to me, that I cannot
abandon the hope that the ' ROSE GARDEN
OF PERSIA,' even in my hands, may not be
considered without perfume.
M
I
4
I
w-
4
I
U:
,
THE Orientals appear to agree in opinion with the
Italians, that 'molto cresce una belta, uno bel
manto' ; for they have at all times taken great
delight in adorning their manuscripts, considering
that they thus do honour to the subject. Rous-
seau's feeling of paying proper homage to his
manuscript Heloise would be thoroughly
understood in the East.
The works of favourite poets are generally
written on fine silky paper, the ground of
which is often powdered with gold or silver
dust ; the margins are illuminated, and the
whole perfumed with some costly essence.
Amongst others, that magnificent volume
containing the poem of Yussuf and Zuleika,
preserved in the public library at Oxford,
affords a proof of the honours accorded to
poetical compositions : the British Museum
is also rich in equally beautiful manuscripts.
One of the finest specimens of calligraphy
and illumination is the exordium to the Life
of Shahjehan, for which the writer, besides
the stipulated remuneration, had his mouth
stuffed with the most precious pearls.
A finely ornamented book is considered
an excitement to youth to study : in the
preface to a work called The Dispelling of
Darkness, is this passage : ' This work,
accurately written for its calligraphy, must
be a comfort and excitement to the young.'
Calligraphy is called in the East ' a golden
profession.' Of all books copied with peculiar
care and taste, the Koran has employed the
greatest number of writers, who vie with each
other in their extraordinary performances in
this style ; this caused the poet Sadi to say
that ' the Koran was sent to reform the con-
ON ORNAMENT li
duct of men, but men thought only of
embellishing its leaves.'
A maxim of Caliph Ali was, 'Learn to write
well ; fine writing is one of the keys of riches.'
The Persian commentator on Arabic
Aphorisms (ed. Westonj, says : ' Words set
to music have a wondrous power when aided
by inspiration and the magic of fine writing?
Again ' A poem is a sweet-scented flower,
spotted like a leopard, polished with much
rubbing, and written with the ink of two
centuries? 'An impostor rivets his triumph
by writing carelessly, and making it difficult
to decipher, so that no extracts can be made
that will repay the loss of time in reading it.'
Fakr-eddin Rasi, when speaking of the
merits of the Caliph Mostasem-billah, says :
' He knew the Koran by heart, and his
handwriting was very beautiful.'
A manuscript of the Divan of the poet
Keinal, which had been the property of a
sultan, is possessed by the Imperial Library
at Vienna, and is a great treasure as a
splendid specimen of fine writing, and also
for the superbly executed miniatures which
adorn it, illustrating the poems. These
pictures are not more than a square inch in
size : there are two on each side of the con-
cluding verse, and, though so small, represent
with the greatest correctness, either allegori-
cally or simply, the meaning of the poet.
11;
ON ORNAMENT
Mr. Edward More, author of the Hindoo
Pant/ie0n,ment\o'ns some very exquisitemanu-
scripts in his possession : one, of fourteen and
a half feet long, can be rolled up to the size
of a man's thumb. The library of the India
House, and that of the Asiatic Society in
London, from the latter of which I have been
allowed to take patterns for this work, are
rich in very beautiful specimens of Oriental
minuteness : amongst them are copies of
the Koran on delicate strips exquisitely
illuminated, so small as to require a strong
glass to decipher the character. Some of
these can be rolled up into an almost in-
credibly small space and carried in the
pocket. Nothing but the fairy's gift of
tapestry, which could be enclosed in a walnut
shell, can be compared to these wonders. A
copy of the Mahabarata was lately in Lon-
don, which is said to exceed all that could
be imagined of human patience in the minute
beauty of its execution.
The ink used in the East is extremely
black, and never loses its colour. Egyptian
reeds, with which the scribes write, are formed
to make the finest strokes and flourishes, and
their letters run so easily into one another that
they can write faster than any other nation.
There is a beautiful manuscript of Dowlat
Shah of Samarkand's valuable Lives of the
Persian Poets, in the Royal Library at Paris.
THE SUFIS
MOST of the Asiatic poets are
Sufis, a profession of religion
so mystical, that it is difficult to
explain in a few words.
They prefer, or profess to pre-
fer, the meditations and ecstasies
of mysticism to the pleasures of
the world. Their fundamental
tenets are, that nothing exists ab-
solutely but God : that the human
soul is an emanation from His es-
sence, and will finally be restored
to Him : that the great object in
this transitory state should be, a
constant approach to the Eternal
Spirit, and as perfect a union to
the Divine nature as possible ; for
which reason all worldly attach-
ments should be avoided, and, in
-
2 THE SUFIS
all we do, a spiritual object should be kept
in view
' As a swimmer, without the impediment of garments,
cleaves the water with greater ease.'
When a Sufi poet speaks of love and
beauty, a divine sentiment is always to
be understood, however much the words
employed may lead the uninitiated to ima-
gine otherwise. This is the case with
many sects of Protestants, and appears alsc
in the sacred poems of our early writers, in
those of the Fathers of the Church, and i
the Song of Solomon, which is a remarkable
instance.
The great end with these philosophy
to attain to a state of perfection in spiritu-
ality, so as to be at length totally absorbed
in holy contemplation, to the exclusion of all
worldly recollections or interests. This is in
fact no more than was formerly sought by
monastic devotees in the Catholic Church ;
and it was the same belief and endeavo
which produced so many saints and martyrs
As religious enthusiasm, carried to the
utmost height, is sure to
' O'erleap itself, and fall on the other side,'
the admirers of the Sufis carried their zeal
beyond all bounds, and the ultra pious ac
still greater mysticism to a belief which was
already obscure enough. This has filled the
deserts of India and Arabia with howling
THE OBJECT OF THEIR DEVOTION 3
dervishes, Yoghis, Sunnis, and whole tribes
of fanatics, who have run wild with ill-
directed devotion, and pass their lives
standing on one leg or ceaselessly extend-
ing one arm, or with fixed eyes constantly
regarding the sun till they lose their sight.
Such as these have made their faith a jest,
and such are described as perfect beings
by those of their own sect who encourage
such absurdity.
In a work, called Exercise of the Soul,
they are named as follows, their wisdom
and their folly lauded alike :
' He is both a Yoghi and a Sunnyasi who
performeth that which he ought to do, in-
dependent of the fruit thereof. To the
Yoghi gold, iron, and stone are the same.
The Yoghi constantly exerciseth the spirit
in private, free from hope, free from per-
ception. He planteth his own seat firmly
on a spot undefiled, neither too high nor
too low, and sitteth upon the sacred grass,
which is called Koos, covered with a skin
or a cloth. There he whose business is the
restraining of his passions, should sit with
his mind fixed on one object, alone, in the
exercise of his devotion for the purification
of his soul, keeping his head, neck, and body
steady, without motion, his eyes fixed on the
point of his nose, looking at no other place
around.'
4 THE SUFIS
When it is considered that the creed of
the Sufis is to adore beauty, because the
contemplation thereof leads the creature
nearer to the Creator ; and to venerate
wine, because the power of its spirit is a
symbol of that of the Deity, the reader of
the Persian poets will not be surprised at
the mixture of sacred, and apparently
profane, ideas so often found in the same
poem.
Hafiz, himself a Sufi, has well expressed
the sentiments of this visionary sect in the
following lines, which will at once convey
the substance of this mystical belief, so fre-
quently and necessarily alluded to when the
Persian poets are treated of :
EARTHLY AND HEAVENLY LOVE
A MYSTICAL POEM OF HAFIZ
A being, formed like thee, of clay,
Destroys thy peace from day to day ;
Excites thy waking hours with pain ;
Consumes thy sleep with visions vain.
Thy mind is rapt, thy sense betrayed ;
Thy head upon her foot is laid.
The teeming earth, the glowing sky,
Is nothing to her faintest sigh.
A POEM OF HAFIZ
Thine eye sees only her ; thy heart
Feels only her in every part.
Careless of censure, restless, lost,
By ceaseless wild emotions tost ;
If she demand thy soul, 'tis given
She is thy life, thy death, thy heaven.
Since a vain passion, based on air,
Subdues thee with a power so rare,
Howcanstthou marvel those who stray
Tow'rds the true path are led away,
Till, scarce the goal they can descry,
^ Whelmed in adoring mystery?
Life they regard not ; for they live
In Him whose hands all being give :
The world they quit for Him, who made
Its wondrous light.its wondrous shade :
For Him all pleasures they resign,
And love Him with a love divine !
On the cup-bearer gazing still,
The cup they break, the wine they spill.
From endless time their ears have rung
With words, by angel voices sung ;
'Art thou not bound to God?' they cry ;
And the blest 'Yes ' whole hosts reply.
6 THE SUFIS
They seem unmoved, but ceaseless
thought
Works in their minds, with wisdom
fraught.
Their feet are earth, but souls of flame
Dwell in each unregarded frame.
Such power by steady faith they gain,
One yell would rend the rocks in twain;
One word the cities could o'erthrow,
And spread abroad despair and woe.
Like winds, unseen, they rove all
ways ;
Silent, like stone, they echo praise :
So rapt, so blest, so filled are they,
They know not night they see not
day !
So fair He seems, all things who
made,
The forms He makes to them are
shade ;
And, if a beauteous shape they view,
' Tis His reflection shining through.
The wise cast not the pearl away,
Charmed with the shell, whose hues
are gay ;
A POEM OF HAFIZ 7
To him pure love is only known,
Who leaves both worlds for God
alone.
It is necessary to explain, in some degree,
the nature of the Sufi belief, in order that
the reader, to become initiated, should not
be startled at the singular expressions,
which he is bound to comprehend as
conveying a sacred meaning ; otherwise,
when the poet exclaims, in a mystical
rapture
' Sell this world and the next for a cup of pure ivine I '
it might be imagined extraordinary, until
he knows that by a 'cup of pure wine 'is
meant 'faith.'
It must be confessed that the following
ode of Hafiz requires to be studied with
more than ordinary attention, in order that
the full meaning of its devotional fervour
may be comprehended ; otherwise, it might
appear to the unguarded reader a mere
Bacchanalian effusion, not unworthy of
Anacreon !
ODE OF HAFIZ
SAID TO BE EXPRESSIVE OF HOLY JOY AND
EXULTATION
Grapes of pure and glowing lustre !
May the hand that plucked each
cluster
Never shake with age !
May the feet ne'er slip that press them !
Oh ! 'tis rapture to possess them,
'Spite the chiding sage.
Call, call for wine, the goblet drain,
And scatter round spring's fairest
flowers ;
What wouldst thou more of fate
obtain :
Where canst thou seek for brighter
hours?
This was the earthly nightingale's
first lay ;
What sayest thou to his precepts,
Rose of Day ?
THEIR RELIGION 9
Oh ! bring thy couch where countless
roses
The garden's gay retreat discloses ;
There in the shade of waving boughs , _-,
recline,
^ Breathing rich odours, quaffing ruby
wine !
Thou, fairest rose of all, oh say,
For whom thy hundred leaves dost
thou display?
To what blest mortal wilt thou own
Such buds have sprung for him alone?,
What have I now to ask ? here all
Life's choicest gifts to me belong ;
Prudence and wisdom are but thrall,
The only friends are wine and song!
The religion of the Sufis appears to be a
compound of the philosophy of Plato and
Berkley : with Plato, they would perfectly
agree in the following observation : ' For
a thing of this kind cannot be expressed by
words, like other disciplines, but by lasting
familiarity and conjunction of life with this
divine object, a bright light on a sudden, as
it were, leaping out of a fire, will illuminate
the soul, and then preserve and nourish its
splendour.' Or with Socrates : ' There is
but one eternal, immutable, uniform beauty,
in contemplation of which our sovereign
happiness does consist, and therefore a true
lover considers beauty and proportion as so
many steps and degrees by which he may
ascend from the particular to the general ;
from all that is lovely in feature, or regular
in proportion, or charming in sound, to the
general fountain of all perfection. And if
you are so much transported with the sight
of beautiful persons as to wish neither to eat
nor drink, but to pass your whole life in
their conversation, to what ecstasy would it
raise you to behold the original beauty, not
filled up with flesh and blood, or varnished
with a fading mixture of colours, and the
rest of mortal trifles and fooleries, but
separate, uniform, and divine ! '
The Sufis suppose that it is an anxious
desire of the soul for union that is the cause
of love : thus they compare the soul to a
bird confined in a cage, panting for liberty,
and pining at its separation from the divine
essence.
r
FAVOURITE SUBJECTS OF EASTERN
POETS
THERE are three principal love-stories in the
East, which, from the earliest times, have
been the themes of every poet. Scarcely-
one of the mighty masters of Persian litera-
ture but has adopted and added celebrity
to those beautiful and interesting legends,
which can never be too often repeated to an
Oriental ear. They are, 'The History of
Khosru and Shireen' ; ' The Loves of Yussuf
and Zuleika' ; and ' The Misfortunes of Mej-
noun and Leila.' So powerful is the charm
attached to these stories, that it appears
to have been considered almost an impera-
tive duty on the poets to compose a new
version of the old, familiar, and beloved
traditions. Even down to a modern date,
the Persians have not deserted their favour-
ites, and these celebrated themes of verse
reappear, from time to time, under new
auspices.
Each of these poems is expressive of a
peculiar character : that of Khosru and
Shireen may be considered exclusively the
Persian romance ; that of Mejnoun, the
Arabian ; and that of Yussuf and Zuleika,
THE SUFIS
the Sacred, The first presents a picture of
happy love and female excellence in Shireen.
Mejnoun is a representation of unfortunate
attachment, carried to madness. The third
romance contains the ideal of perfection in
Yussuf (i.e. Joseph), and the most passionate
and imprudent love in Zuleika ( the wife of
Potiphar) ; and exhibits in strong relief the
power of love and beauty, the mastery of
mind, the weakness of overwhelming passion,
and the victorious spirit of holiness and
triumph of prophecy for it is said that
Yussuf's beauty was foreshown to Adam as
a type of his prophetic power. The names
of three great poets are identified with these
subjects ; and each has peculiarly succeeded
in one : to Nizami is accorded. the palm, for
the best poem on ' The Loves of Khosru and
Shireen' ; to Jami, for those of 'Yussuf and
Zuleika'; and to Hatifi, for the 'most
musical, most melancholy' version of the
sad tale of ' Mejnoun and Leila,' the Romeo
and Juliet of the East. These are generally
called the Romantic Poets, as the others are
the Mystic and the Historic.
The first of Persian poets, the father
of his language, the Homer of his country,
is the illustrious Ferdusi, whose name is
known in every nation, and consecrated to
eternal fame in his own. He is the head of
the Historic school.
WHEN the renowned conqueror Shah
Mahmoud reigned in Ghusni, su-
preme ruler of Zablistan and great
part of Khorassan, he entertained
several poets in his palace, amongst
whom the most distinguished was Abul
Kasim Mansur, called Ferdusi^ or ' Para-
dise,' from the exquisite beauty of his
compositions. The poet had been attracted
from his village by the fame of the sultan's
magnificence ; for he had spent fifty years
of his life in his native place, Shadab, in
the province of Tus, in Khorassan, without
seeking reputation beyond. His name, how-
ever, had spread far and wide, and the
sultan heard with pride that so great a
luminary had come to shed its lustre over
his court, which wanted but that to dazzle
the whole world.
The gorgeous gates of sandal-wood,
which he had transported to his palace from
the idol temple of Somnat, he thought
alone worthy to expand to let n such a
guest as Ferdusi ; and the unrivalled city
of palaces which he had created, in the
midst of which stood the abode which he
thought worthy of the name of ' the Celes-
tial Bride,' he considered never so much
honoured as when the ' Minstrel of the
Garden of Paradise' set his foot within
its walls. Neither of his majestic Bala
Hissar, the emblem of his power, nor of
his glorious mmars, which remain to this
day memorials of his greatness, was Mah-
moud more proud, than that Ferdusi was,
by his command, composing, in his faultless
THE SHAH
verse, a history of the monarchs of Persia,
his predecessors.
No reward then appeared to him too great
to offer to induce the poet to undertake the
task, no promises too splendid to excite him.
' Write, unequalled one,' cried he, ' and for
T every thousand couplets a thousand pieces
\A of gold shall be thine.'
But Ferdusi wrote for fame and not for
profit, though he was poor, and depended
only on his own exertions ; he resolved to
accept of no reward till he had completed
the work he had undertaken, and for thirty
years he studied and laboured that his poem
might be worthy of eternal fame. In this
he succeeded, but the patience of the Shah
was exhausted, his enthusiasm was gone, his
liberality had faded away, and when the
sixty thousand couplets of the Shah JVama/i,
or ' Book of Kings,' was ended, there was a
pause, which brought to the poet disappoint-
ment, and to the monarch such everlasting
disgrace as has obliterated all his triumphs.
What must have been the poet's feelings,
when, after a life of labour, of unabated
enthusiasm, unwearied diligence, and un-
diminished zeal, though he had by this time
reached the age of eighty years, he found the
announcement of his great epic's completion
coldly received ! Incautious even more than
is usual with his rhyming race was the
r-:
hapless Ferdusi, to trust to the continuance
of a king's patronage for so long a period.
Enemies had thickened round him while he
was absorbed in his great work, his friends
had disappeared, his admirers had dropped
off, and the unfortunate minstrel woke from
his protracted dream to find himself
' A very beggar and a wretch indeed.'
There is something that sounds like
Eastern exaggeration in the term of years
named, and the age of the poet, but all his-
torians have so recounted the event. Thirty
years is a long period to make a monarch
and the public wait fora promised work, and
it a little diminishes the pity which would
be naturally felt for the author when the
disappointment of the patron is considered.
Ferdusi sent a copy, exquisitely written,
of his Shah Namah to the sultan, who re-
ceived it unmoved : the grand vizier uttered
deprecatory remarks, the courtiers yawned,
and the aged poet's long-look ed-for work
was treated with contempt.
The astonished author of an unrivalled
composition, of the value of which he was
well assured, was startled at the silence of
his royal patron ; he began to reflect on his
position, and the fact of his having for a
series of years neglected all his worldly
affairs in order to give himself up entirely
THE SHAH NAMAH 17
to study became painfully evident. He
could scarcely believe in the meanness and
ingratitude which could thus neglect him :
but still no notice was taken. At length the
following lines reached the ear of Mahmoud,
and he began to fear the poet's fire was not
all extinct :
'Tis said our monarch's liberal mind
Is, like the ocean, unconfined.
Happy are they who prove it so !
'Tis not for me that truth to know.
I 've plunged within its waves, 'tis
true,
But not a single pearl could view.
Shamed, piqued, and offended at this free-
dom, the sultan ordered sixty thousand small
pieces of money (dirrhims) to be sent to the
author of the Shah Namah, instead of the
gold which he had won. Ferdusi was in the
public bath at the time the money arrived,
and his rage and amazement exceeded all
bounds when he found himself thus insulted.
' How ! ' he exclaimed, ' does the sultan
imagine that thirty years' labour and study
are to be rewarded with dirrhims ? ' So say-
ing, he distributed the paltry sum amongst
the attendants of the bath and the slave who
brought it.
ex A ri
18
FERDUSI
At first his mind was overwhelmed with
grief and vexation ; all the airy dreams he
had formed of devoting the promised sum
to the embellishment of his native place,
endowing a hospital, and becoming a general
benefactor to his province, were at once dis-
persed, and the fame for which he had
toiled appeared to have vanished also ; but
in a short time his spirit rose superior to
sorrow, and his former energy and dignity
returned. He called up every feeling of
contempt and bitterness of which his sensi-
tive nature was capable, and resolved to pour
the accumulated torrent on the head of the
degraded sovereign who had deceived and
insulted him. The circumstances of Mah-
moud's birth left him open to contumely, for
though his father, Sebectighin, rose to em-
pire from his valour and brilliant qualities,
there was a blot in his escutcheon not to be
forgotten, particularly under such provoca-
tion he had been a slave \
The excited poet relieved his mind by a
satire full of stinging invective, and caused
it to be transmitted to the favourite vizier
who had instigated the sultan against him ;
it was carefully sealed up, with directions
that it should be read to Mahmoud on some
occasion when his mind was perturbed with
affairs of state and his temper ruffled, as it
was a poem likely to afford him entertain-
-*;-
w
I
:&
^
I
cifc
r
SATIRE ON MAHMOUD 19
ment. Ferdusi having thus prepared his
vengeance, quitted the ungrateful court,
without leave-taking, and he was safely
arrived in Mazanderan when news reached
him that his lines had fully answered the
purpose he had intended they should do.
Mahmoud had heard and trembled, and too
late discovered that he had ruined his own
reputation for ever.
There is in this celebrated satire a re-
markable expression, singularly like that of
Wolsey : 'Had I written as many verses
in praise of Mahommed and Ali as I have
composed for King Mahmoud, they would
have showered a hundred blessings upon
me!'
The following is part of the satire :
FERDUSI'S SATIRE ON MAHMOUD
OF GUSNI
In Mahmoud who shall hope to find
One virtue to redeem his mind?
A mind no gen'rous transports fill ;
To truth, to faith, to justice chill !
Son of a slave ! His diadem
In vain may glow with many a gem,
'.j&\
20 FERDUSI
Exalted high in power and place,
Outbursts the meanness of his race!
Take, of some bitter tree, a shoot-
In Eden's garden plant the root ;
Let waters from th' Eternal spring
Amidst the boughs their incense fling ;
Though bathed and showered with
honey dew,
Its native baseness springs to view;
After long care and anxious skill,
The fruit it bears is bitter still.
Place thou within the spicy nest,
Where the bright phoenix loves to rest,
A raven's egg and, mark it well,
When the vile bird has chipped its
shell,
Though fed with grains from trees
that grow
Where Salsebil's sweet waters flow,
Though airs from Gabriel's wings
may rise
To fan the cradle where he lies,
Though long these patient cares
endure,
It proves, at last, a bird impure !
SATIRE ON MAHMOUD 21
A viper, nurtured in a bed
Where roses all their beauties spread,
Though nourished with the drops
alone
Of waves that spring from Allah's
throne,
Is still a poisonous reptile found,
And with its venom taints the ground.
Bear, from the forest's gloom, to light,
The dark and sullen bird of night ;
Amidst thy garden's sweetest bowers
Place him with summer's fairest
flowers ;
Let hyacinths and roses glow
And round his haunts their garlands
throw ;
Scarce does the sun in glory rise,
And streak with gold the laughing
skies,
He turns him from the day in pain,
And seeks his gloomy woods again.
This truth our holy Prophet sung
' All things return from whence they
sprung.
22 FERDUSI
Pass near the merchant's fragrant
wares,
Thy robe the scent of amber bears ;
Go where the smith his trade pursues,
Thy mantle's folds have dusky hues.
Let not those deeds thy mind amaze
A mean and worthless man displays ;
An Ethiop's skin becomes not white ;
Thou canst not change the clouds of
night.
What poet shall attempt to sing
The praises of a vicious king?
Hadst thou, degenerate prince, but
shown
One single virtue as thy own ;
Had honour faith adorned thy
brow,
My fortunes had not sunk, as now ;
But thou hadst gloried in my fame,
And built thyself a deathless name.
O Mahmoud ! though thou fear'st
me not,
Heaven's vengeance will not be for-
got ;
THE SHAH NAMAH 23
Shrink, tyrant ! from my words of
fire,
And tremble at a poet's ire !
m
The only part of this invective which was
undeserved was Ferdusi's allusion to the
father of the sultan, who merited more from
one who could appreciate virtue than to
be merely named as l a slave.' What the
character of Sebectighin was the following
anecdotes will show :
' He was at first only a private horseman
in the service of the sultan whom he suc-
ceeded on the throne ; and, being of an
active and vigorous disposition, used to hunt
every day in the forest. It happened once,
when he was thus amusing himself, that he
saw a deer grazing with her young fawn,
upon which, spurring his horse, he seized
the fawn, and binding its legs, threw it
across the saddle and turned his face to-
wards home. When he had ridden a little
way, he looked behind, and beheld the
mother of the fawn following him and ex-
hibiting every mark of extreme affliction.
The soul of the hunter melted within him ;
he untied the feet of the fawn, and generously
restored it to liberty. The happy mother
turned towards the wilderness, and often
looked back upon him, the tears dropping
fast from her eyes. That night he saw an
24 FERDUSI
apparition in his dreams, which said to him,
" The kindness and compassion which thou
hast this day shown to a distressed animal
has been approved of in the presence of
God ; therefore in the records of Providence
the kingdom of Ghusni is marked as a
reward against thy name. Let not greatness
destroy thy virtue, but continue thy benevol-
ence to man."'
It is related in a moral, metaphysical, and
philosophical work, called Masir ul Maluck,
that Mahmoud, when prince, having built
a pleasure-house in an elegant garden, near
the city of Ghusni, invited his father to a
magnificent entertainment, which he had
prepared for him. The son, in the joy of his
heart, desired to know his father's opinion as
to his taste in the structure which had been
lauded as inimitable. The king, to the great
disappointment of Mahmoud, told him 'that
he looked upon the whole as a bauble, which
any of his subjects might have raised by
means of wealth ; but that it was the busi-
ness of a prince to erect the more durable
structure of good fame, which might stand
for ever to be imitated, but never to be
equalled.'
The great poet Nizami makes, upon this
saying, the following reflection : ' Of all
the gorgeous palaces that Mahmoud built
we now find not one stone upon another,
THE SHAH NAMAH 25
but the edifice of fame, as he was told by
his father, still triumphs over time, and is
established on a lasting foundation.'
The Shah Namah contains the history
of the kings of Persia, from the reign of the
first king, Kaiumers, to the death of Yesdi-
jerd, the last monarch of the Sassanian race,
who was deprived of his kingdom, A.D. 641
A.H. 21, by the invasion of the Arabs
during the caliphate of Omar.
In the course of this period three dynas-
ties sat upon the Persian throne. The first,
called the Pishdadian, lasted 2441 years ;
the second, the Kaianian, commenced with
Kai-koba'd, and lasted 732 years. Alexan-
der the Great (or Sikander) is included in
this race, and is, by the poet, represented
as the son of Darab, king of Persia, by the
daughter of Failakus (Philip of Macedon).
After the death of Sikander, Persia was
divided, during 200 years, into a number of
petty monarchies, called the ' Confederacy
of the kings.' The Sassanian race of princes
succeeded these, and ruled over Persia for
501 years.
As a history, the great poem of Ferdusi is
now of little value ; but it contains some of
the ancient Persian traditions, and the power
and eloquence of its verse are unrivalled.
Persian biographers all agree in assert-
ing that Mahmoud placed in the hands of
26 FERDUSI
Ferdusi the ancient chronicles of the kings
of Persia, from which it is supposed that
he derived his historical narratives. That
such fragments existed we have the testi-
mony of the Book of Esther, besides those
of Herodotus and Ctesius.
A story is often repeated respecting the
origin of Ferdusi's work, which is perhaps
founded on truth, but has been much
doubted.
One book, besides the fables of Bidpai, or
Pilpai, is said to have escaped from the
burning of the Alexandrian library, namely,
a history of Persia, in the Pehlevian or vul-
gar dialect, supposed to have been compiled
'by order of Nishurvan or Kosroes, who'
reigned till near the close of the sixth
century. Saad, one of Omar's generals,
found the volume, after the victory at
Cadessia, and preserved it as a curiosity ;
it passed through several hands, was trans-
lated into several dialects of Persia, and
finally was seen by the great poet, who de-
rived from it the materials of his poem.
After his satire had been read by Shah
Mahmoud, the poet feared to remain too
long in one place ; he sought shelter in the
court of the Caliph of Bagdad, Kadi Billah,
in whose honour he added a thousand
couplets to the Shah Namah, and who re-
warded him with the sixty thousand gold
THE SHAH NAM AH 27
dinars, which had been withheld by Mah-
moud.
These lines occur amongst his compli-
ments :
TO THE KING
Nor vice nor virtue long endure,
Then keep thy conscience ever pure;
Wealth, power, and gorgeous works
will seem
At the last hour an idle dream ;
But a great name no time can
steal :
Despise not then the sage's zeal.
'Twas Feridoun, by Heav'n ordained,
Who first the world from vice re-
strained :
Great Feridoun, the blest and wise,
Was yet no child of paradise.
Not musk, or ambergris but clay ;
But truth and justice owned his sway :
Obedient, faithful, generous found,
His virtues by success were crowned :
Like him, by virtue gain renown,
And reign another Feridoun.
28 FERDUSI
Meantime Ferdusi's poem of Jussuf, and
his magnificent verses on several subjects,
had revived the fame which his studies had
so long allowed to lie dormant, and Shah
Mahmoud's 'late remorse awoke.' He
had lost the greatest ornament of the age,
and another monarch could boast of having
done him right. He pretended to have
discovered that his vizier had deceived him
in attributing impiety to Ferdusi, and he
at once sacrificed that favourite, dismissing
him with disgrace. He had, however,
previously sent to Kadir Billah to command
the poet's absence from his court, and he
had retired to his native Tus. Thinking,
by a tardy act of liberality, to repair his
former meanness, Mahmoud despatched to
the author of the Shah Namah the sixty
thousand pieces he had promised, a robe of
state, and many apologies and expressions
of friendship and admiration, requesting his
return, and professing great sorrow for their
dissensions.
The poet, however, was ' past the tyrant's
stroke,' and senseless of his future generosity.
He was dead ! having expired in his native
town, full of years and honours, surrounded
by his friends and kindred.
His family, knowing his wishes, devoted
the whole sum to the benevolent purposes
he had intended, namely, the erection of
THE POET'S DEATH
29
public buildings, and the general improve-
ment of the place of his birth. The date of
his death is given as in A.D. 1020 A.H. 411,
and his age as eighty-nine.
The language of Ferdusi may be con-
sidered as the purest specimen of the older
Persian dialect, called Deri, Arabic words
being rarely introduced ; whereas Sadi,
Jami, Hafiz, and others, have adopted
Arabic expressions without reserve. The
softness of the Deri, in the opinion of the
Asiatics, has occasioned the popular saying,
' that it is the language of Heaven,' together
with the Arabic idioms. ' God,' it is said,
'communicates His milder mandates in the
delicate accents of the first, whilst His
sterner commands are delivered in the
rapid utterance of the other.'
There are many episodes in the Shah
Namah of great beauty. The following is
the rhapsody of Byzun, a young prince, the
Paris of Ferdusi's poem, who had reason
to repent his adventure with the daughter
of Afrasiab, for he was made captive, and
only rescued by the valour of Rostam,
another Rolando, the great hero of the
poem, of whom the most extraordinary
feats are related, and who is, probably, the
original of many of those who figure in the
histories of knight-errantry.
The prince, sailing by the gardens of
30
FERDUSI
Afrasiab's palace, beholds his daughters
wandering amidst the bowers, and, excited
by a perfidious friend, forms the somewhat
ungallant plan of carrying them off ; he is
thus addressed by his companion, Girgin,
the traitor :
THE GARDENS OF THE DAUGHTERS
OF AFRASIAB
FROM THE ' SHAH NAMAH ' OF FERDUSI
Look forth, companions/cast afaryour
eyes
Where yonder many-coloured plain
extends :
Ah ! in my breast what sweet
emotions rise !
Behold how each soft charm of
nature blends
Into one glorious whole, grove,
mead, and stream,
A fit abode for heroes it might
seem !
THE SHAH NAMAH 31
The tender silken grass invites the
tread ;
With musky odour breathes the U&*
fanning air ;
Pure waters glide along their per-
fumed bed,
As though the rose gave them her
essence rare ;
The lily stalk bends with her fragrant
flower,
The lustre of the rose glads ev'ry
bower.
The pheasant walks with graceful
pace along,
Soft doves and mournful nightin-
gales are nigh,
Charming the silence with a mingled
song,
And murmurs from the cypress-
boughs reply.
Oh ! never, never, long as time
shall last,
May shadows o'er these beauteous
scenes be cast !
32 FERDUSI
Still may they in eternal splendour
glow,
And be like Paradise, as they are
now !
There, in gay groups, beneath the
trees, beside
Those streams that through the vales
in music glide,
Lovely as fairies, beautiful as day,
Are maids who wander on in sportive
play.
Afrasiab's daughter there, Manizha
bright,
Makes the whole garden like the
sun all light.
Not less majestic, 'midst the graceful
Her sister, fair Zittara, sweet and
Before her shrink, ashamed, the jas-
She decks the plain with beauty as
-*>. ?"-
HEROES OF ROMANCE 33
And there are Turkish maids that
near them rove,
With forms like cypress-boughs that
zephyrs move ;
Locks dark as musk, and see ! each
veil discloses
Eyes filled w ith sleep, and cheeks all
full of roses !
Shall we not, friends, turn for a single
day,
Check, for so great a prize, our on-
ward way,
Steal to those bovvers, make the
bright nymphs our own,
And bring the lovely prey to Khos-
rou's throne?
Another episode of the Shah Namah
relates the ' loves of the Fair-haired Zal, or
Zalzar, and Rudava.' This hero is a very
favourite one, as is his father, Sam Neriman,
and his son is the famous Rostam, the con-
queror of the Dives, or evil spirits. Rostam
is the father of Sohrab, an interesting young
hero, whose tragical death is one of the most
admired portions of the Shah Namah.
Another great hero of the Shah Namah,
-i'-^^V^J-t V ' J2/VXC*. o ' .Jli/Y
whose fabulous adventures are a favourite
theme with eastern writers, is Jamshid,
the great monarch who owned the famous
'jewel,' so often named by the poets.
He is supposed to have flourished 800
years before the Christian era, and it was he
who built ' the famed Persepolis,' or city of
Istakar, the ruins of which, called Chelminar,
or the Forty Pillars, still exist, and are often
visited by adventurous travellers.
During his reign sickness and death were
unknown, tranquillity and happiness re-
warded the virtues of his people. The
angel Siroush descended from heaven to
visit the monarch, whose worth excited
admiration in 'both worlds,' and a robe
and enchanted girdle were left him by
the celestial guest. He was gifted with
a ray of divine light (like Moses) which
rendered his form so luminous, that once,
when descending Mount Alborz (from time
immemorial the seat of fire-temples), the
people imagined that there were two suns
in the world. His magic ring and throne
possessed extraordinary powers : his goblet
was wondrous.
' Who knows,' says the bard, ' what is
become of the goblet of Jam ? '
He was beloved, feared, obeyed, and
happy ; but his human nature began at last
to predominate over his better and more
-~-
1C
-~:
exalted feelings. Pride crept into his heart,
and overturned the work of years : he be-
came puffed up with self-estimation, and
forgot from whence he derived his greatness,
till the anger of God was kindled against
him. The minds of his subjects underwent
a change ; they revolted, and drove him
from his kingdom, and, an outcast and
wanderer, he roamed the earth for a hundred
years.
The following is a scene in which he is
represented as meeting with the daughter
of King Gureng, who became his wife ;
and, his probation past, he was restored to
his kingdom and his power, 'a wiser and a
better man,' his youth having suffered no
diminution. The incidents and metaphors
are from Ferdusi, but I have merely ven-
tured on a paraphrase, not a translation.
JAMSHID'S COURTSHIP
A weary traveller sat to grieve
By Gureng's gate, at early eve,
Where fragrant gardens, filled with
bloom,
Cast forth their breath of soft per-
fume,
36 FERDUSI
And wandering o'er his brow and
face,
Relieved him for a moment's space.
But sorrow weighed upon his breast,
And dimmed the lustre of his eye ;
He had no home he sought but
rest,
And laid him down to sleep or die!
King Gureng's lovely daughter lies
Beside a fountain gently playing ;
She marks not though the waves be
bright,
Nor in the roses takes delight :
And though her maids new games
devise,
Invent fresh stories to surprise,
She heeds not what each fair is
saying :
Her fav'rite's voice has lost its spell,
The raven charms her ear as well !
But hark ! soft whispers, questions
gay,
Amongst the female train prevail ;
A young slave, beautiful as day,
Blushes while she tells her tale.
37
JAMSHID'S COURTSHIP
' Nay, mock me not, no face so
fair
Was seen on earth till now :
Though on his cheek are hues of care,
And grief has marked his brow :
Ah ! cruel maids, ye smile and doubt,
While the poor stranger faints with-
out !'
The princess heard : ' Go hence,' she
cried,
'And be the stranger's wants sup-
plied :
Let him beneath our shades repose,
And find a refuge for his woes.'
The ready damsels straight obey,
And seek the trav'ller where he lay.
' Arise, fair youth, the wine-cup waits,
And roses bloom within our gates,
The tulip bids thee welcome be,
And the young moon has risen for
thee.'
Meanwhile the princess mused alone,
And thus she sighed in mournful
tone :
3 8 FERDUSI
' Alas ! they told me 'twas my fate ;
But ah ! I feel 'tis all too late :
I cannot now believe 'twas vain ;
That dream can never come again !
And yet my nurse, who knows full
well
Each herb and ev'ry potent spell,
From the cold wave can conjure fire,
And quell the mighty dragon's ire,
From stones soft dewdrops can distil,
And awethe Z^zW^withwondrousskill,
Knows ev'ry star has said that mine
Glowed with an aspect all divine ;
That he, whose image is imprest,
As if by magic on my breast,
Whose portrait cheers my solitude
The mighty Jamshid, great and good ;
Of whose rare beauty they recount,
When he descended from the mount,
So bright the lustre, those who saw
Proclaimed two suns, and knelt in
awe ;
For whom the chains of death were
riven,
Whom angels clothed in robes of
heaven ;
JAMSHID'S COURTSHIP 39
That prince whose power was far
above
All those who vainly seek my love ;
She said he should be mine vain
thought !
Is he not fall'n, to ruin brought ;
His kingdom gone, his fortune
crost,
And he, perhaps, for ever lost ? '
She ceased, when lo ! the laughing
train
Came dancing back with song and
jest,
And leading, in a flowery chain,
The stranger youth, their welcome
guest.
'Twas thus they met, they met and
gazed,
Struck by the self-same power
amazed ;
Confused, admiring, pleased, dis-
tressed,
As passion rose in either breast.
4 o FERDUSI
The princess spoke, soft as a bird
In spring to some dear partner
sighing ;
And the fair stranger's words were
heard,
Sweet as the bul-buFs notes reply-
ing.
Her long hair, streaming to the
ground,
With odours fills the air around ;
She moves to music and to song,
As the wild partridge steps along.
She leads him to her jasmine bovver,
'Midst fountains, birds, and blos-
soms sweet ;
And her attendant maidens shower
The sparkling wave upon his feet.
Two doves sat near, and softly
mourned,
And both their hearts each sigh re-
turned.
With wine, and verse, and wit awhile,
The happy moments they beguile ;
; ..
JAMSHID'S COURTSHIP 41
But clouds passed o'er the fair one's
brow,
She feared, she doubted, ' Go ! '
she cried ;
' Bring here my long - unbended
bow,
And let my former art be tried.
Two birds are seated on one tree,
Tell me which bird my mark shall
be;
And thou shalt know a woman's skill
Can make all captive to her will ! '
The stranger smiled with haughty
look,
As from her hand the bow he took :
1 Thy fame,' he said, ' to me is known;
Valour, like beauty, is thy own :
But know, though bold in camp and
field,
Woman to man is forced to yield.
Princess, a boon ! If I have wit
And skill the female bird to hit,
Shall she who makes these groves
divine,
She whom I most admire, be mine ? '
42 FERDUSI
She blushed assent the arrow flew ;
The female bird mountsto theskies;
His shaft has struck her pinions
through,
And fluttering on the ground she
lies.
The fair one's eyeswith triumph shine:
' The son of Tahumers I see !
For never yet could hand but mine
Bend that charmed bow 'tis he
'tis he ! '
So spake her heart. 'Give me the
bow ! '
She said aloud ; ' if true my aim,
Let him who seeks me take me now,
No better boon my hopes can claim.'
My tale is told. Ye lovers, say,
Can ye not guess the blissful close?
How Jamshid won a bride that day,
And found a balm for all his woes.
Tahumers, or Tahmuras, was a great
hero, as well as his son ; he received from
the Simorgh (a fabulous Persian bird, of
THE SIMORGH OR ANCA
43
magical power) a present of some of her
feathers, which is said to have given rise to
the fashion of plumed helmets. This prince
was called Banivand, armed at all points,
and Diwband, chainer of Dives.
The mystics called the divinity Simorgh,
and Anca : numerous fables are told of
each, and they are sometimes said to be
the same. There is a Persian saying, ' All
people have a proverb of the Anca, to ex-
press that which is spoken of and not seen.'
One poet, speaking of a miser, says, ' His
bread is like the Anca-Mogreb, which is
painted on the carpet of kings, and of
which men have made proverbs, but have
'never seen it. It is a figure which neither-
passes nor remains.' M. Garcin de Tassy
gives some curious notes on this extra-
ordinary bird : 'It is known only by name,
and so called from having a white line
round the neck like a collar ; some say
because of the length of the neck (this is
not unlike the antediluvian wonders of
geologists). It is said that the inhabitants
of the city of Res had a prophet named
Hantala, and there was in their country
a mountain called Damaj, a mile high.
There came there a very large bird, with
a very long neck, of beautiful and divers
colours. This bird was accustomed to
pounce on all the birds of that mountain,
44
FERDUSI
and eat them up. One day he was hungry,
and birds were scarce, so he pounced
on a child, and carried it off; he is called
Anca-Mogreb, because he carries off the
prey he seizes. He afterwards pounced
on a young girl, and putting her between
his two smaller wings (for he has four on
each side), bore her away. The people
complained to their prophet, and he said,
' My God, deliver us from this bird ! pre-
vent it from reproducing, and abandon it
to misfortune.'
Soon after this the Anca was struck
with a thunderbolt. Mahomed is reported
to have said that, at the time of Moses,
God created a female bird called Anca ; it
had eight wings, and bore the figure of a
man. God gave it a portion of everything,
and afterwards created it a male. ' Then
God made this revelation to Moses (to
whom be peace), I have created two extra-
ordinary birds, and have assigned for their
nourishment the wild beasts which are round
Jerusalem. I have made you familiar with
them, and I have given them over and above
what I have accorded tothechildrenof Israel.'
But the species multiplied ; and when
Moses was dead they went to the land of
Najd and Hejaz, and never ceased to devour
the wild beasts, and to carry off children,
till the time when Khaled, son of Senan
POETS BEFORE FERDUSI
45
Abasi, was prophet, between the time of
Christ and Mahomed. It was then that
these birds were complained of. Khalid
invoked God, and God did not permit them
to multiply, and their race became extinct.'
Although Ferdusi holds the first place
amongst the poets of Persia, he has himself
mentioned that he is indebted for some
passages in his historical poem to two poets
who lived before him. These are Roduki
and Dukiki, who appear to have both com-
menced a poetical version of the history
of Persia. Of Roduki he speaks with re-
spect, but criticises the other without mercy,
although he condescended to adopt much
of his composition.
It is related of Roduki, that the prince
under whom he lived, having removed his
court from Bokhara to Herat, became so
attached to the latter city that he delayed
his return, much to the regret of his courtiers,
who employed the powers of the poet to
induce the monarch to give up his new
passion, and restore them to their homes
and friends. Roduki fully entered into
their views, and the following verses, sung
with great feeling to the barbut, or viol, on
which instrument he was a skilful performer,
accomplished the end desired, and the prince,
Umir Nussar, once again took the route to
Bokhara.
POETS BEFORE FERDUSI
THE REGRETS OF BOKHARA
The gale, whose breath such joy im-
parts,
Comes from that gentle stream
Where they reside, to whom our hearts
Return in mem'ry's dream :
The precious odour that its wings
convey
Is their regret for us so far away !
The sands are rough along that shore
Where glides our native Amu's
stream ;
But when we tread its banks once more,
Like velvet those rude sands will
seem.
O pitying Oxus ! let thy waves divide,
And yield us passage down thy open-
ing tide !
All hail, Bokhara, land of flowers !
Our prince moves proudly on ;
He goes to glad thy sunny bowers,
He asks thy smile alone.
The waving cypress seeks his native
groves,
Therising moon the firmament it loves.
ESSEDI of Tus, in Khorassan, is distin-
guished as having been the master of the
great Ferdusi. He held the first place as
poet at the court of the Shah Mahmoud of
Ghusni, until his fame was eclipsed by the
lustre of that of his celebrated pupil. The
Shah had several times required of Essedi
to arrange the historical record of kings,
which he declined, pleading his great age
and the labour of so extensive an under-
taking ; he, however, recommended the
execution of this important work to Ferdusi.
When the latter, after his many cares and
wanderings, returned to his native province
of Tus, his health having failed him, he
feared that the end of his career was
approaching, and he reflected with infinite
pain that his immortal Shah Namah was
uncompleted. To his aged master the
illustrious pupil communicated his sorrow,
and his fears that no poet after him would
put the finishing hand to his task. Essedi,
fP/K
ESSEDI OF TUS
in order to afford him comfort, assured him
that should he survive he would devote him-
self to the performance of that duty.
' But alas ! my master,' said the despond-
ing Ferdusi, 'you are already very aged
how then will you be able to do this?'
'If it please God,' answered the aged
poet, ' I shall complete it.' At these words
he quitted his pupil, and in the course of
that night and the following day he com-
posed no less than four thousand verses,
thus concluding the great epic poem which
conferred immortality on his beloved pupil,
to whom he triumphantly brought his work ;
and so much was he amazed, gratified, and
enchanted, that his health and spirits revived,
and death was for a time averted.
Essedi must have been extremely aged
when he achieved this extraordinary triumph,
for the work itself had been declined by him,
in the first place, on account of his advanced
years, and no less than thirty of his pupil's
life had been passed in its composition.
The most celebrated of the other works of
Essedi is his dispute between Day and Night.
Day and Night, who each can yield
Joy and solace to the earth,
Thus contended for the field,
Claiming both the highest birth
DAY AND NIGHT 49
Night spoke frowningly : ' 'Twas I
Who from all eternity
Ruled the chaos of the world,
When in dim confusion hurled.
The fervent prayer is heard at
night ;
Devotion flies day's glaring light.
Twas night, the Mount when Moses
left;
At night was Lot avenged by
fire :
At night the moon our prophet
cleft,
And saw Heaven's might revealed
entire.
The lovely moon for thirty days
Spreads radiant glory from afar :
Her charms for ever night displays,
Crowned, like a queen, with many
a star :
Her seal-bearer is Heav'n, a band
Of planets wait on her command.
Day can but paint the skies with
blue,
Night's starry hosts amaze the
view.
^;-^I^l^^$^^^
50 ESSEDI OF TUS
~2 Man measures time but by the moon;
Night shrouds what day reveals too
soon.
Day is with toil and care oppressed,
Night comes, and with her, gentle
rest.
Day, busy still, no praise can bring,
All night the saints their anthems
Her shade is cast by Gabriel's wing !
The moon is pure, the sun's broad face
Dark and unsightly spots deface :
The sun shines on with changeless
glare,
The moon is ever new and fair.'
Day rose, and smiled in high disdain:
' Cease all this boasting, void and vain ;
The Lord of heaven, and earth, and
thee,
Gave me a place more proud than
thine,
And men with joy my rising see,
And hail the beams that round me
shine.
A
V
I
to-
U
ft
DAY AND NIGHT 51
The holy pilgrim takes by day
To many a sacred shrine his way ;
By day the pious fast and pray ;
And solemn feasts are held by day.
On the last day the world's career is
run,
As on the first its being was begun.
Thou, Night, art friendly, it may
be,
For lovers fly for help to thee.
When do the sick thy healing see ?
Thieves, by thy aid, may scatheless
prowl ;
Sacred to thee the bat and owl ;
And, led by thee, pale spectres grimly
howl !
I sprang from heaven, from dust art
thou ;
Light crowns my head with many
a gem,
The collier's cap is on thy brow
For thee a fitting diadem.
52 ESSEDI OF TUS
My presence fills the world with
joy;
Thou com'st all comfort to annoy.
I am a Moslem white my vest :
Thou a vile thief, in sable drest
Out, negro-face ! dar'st thou com-
pare
Thy cheeks with mine, so purely
fair?
Those " hosts of stars," thy boast and
pride,
How do they rush their sparks to
hide,
How to their native darkness run,
When, in his glory, comes the sun !
True, death was first; but, tell me,
who
Thinks life least worthy of the
two?
'Tis by the moon the Arab counts ;
The lordly Persian tells his year
By the bright sun, that proudly
mounts
The yielding heavens, so wide and
clear.
DAY AND NIGHT
The sun is ruddy, strong, and hale ;
The moon is sickly, wan, and pale.
Methinks 'twas ne'er in story told
That silver had the worth of gold !
The moon, a slave, is bowed and
bent,
She knows her light is only lent ;
She hurries on, the way to clear
Till the great Shah himself appear
What canst thou, idle boaster, say
To prove the night excels the day ?
If stubborn still, let Him decide
With whom all truth and law abide ;
Let Nasur Ahmed, wise as great,
Pronounce, and give to each his
state.'
UNSURI
IT is related that, soon after the illustrious
Ferdusi came into Persia, it happened on a
certain day that Unsuri was sitting on the
banks of a river with two companions, the
poets Firoki and Asjudi, when, seeing a
stranger approach whose dress had nothing
distinguished in its appearance, they agreed
amongst themselves to puzzle the new-comer
and be merry at his expense. They proposed
to recite three lines of poetry, each taking
one line, and to demand the fourth of the
stranger, who, in case of failure, was not to
be permitted to remain in their society.
Unsuri was the first to address Ferdusi (for
it was no other) in an uncourteous tone, with
the remark that none but poets should seek
the company of poets ; to which his future
master modestly replied, 'I also know a
little of poetry.' Unsuri then rose, and
MEETING WITH FERDUSI 55
recited the first line of a stanza, as agreed
The moon, my fair, is pallid where
thou art,
The colours of the rose to thine are
pale;
Firoki went on :
Thine eye can pierce, through armour,
to the heart :
The three poets here paused and, with con-
temptuous glances, desired the stranger to
supply the concluding line, convinced that
they required an impossibility from an
obscure and probably unlearned person ; but
Ferdusi, without hesitation, instantly finished
the verse thus :
As Gift's swift arrow shivered Po-
shun's mail.
Not only were the three poets astonished at
his readiness, but ashamed of their incivility,
and also of their inability to understand the
allusion in the line of their conqueror, who
explained it by reciting to them, now be-
come attentive listeners, several parts of
the Shah Namah, with which they were
delighted, and Unsuri found that in the
contemned stranger was a mighty master,
whose genius had already created the work
which Sultan Mahmoud had proposed to
himself, having chosen him from seven con-
temporaries.
From this period contempt was changed
to respect and admiration, nor did jealousy
of his great rival ever find a place in the
breast of the generous poet.
TOGRAY
TOGRAY was a native of
I spahan, and became so celebrated
' as a writer, that the title of ' Honour
of Writers' is sometimes given him: he I
was engaged in a chancellor's office, whose
business it is to trace, in large characters,
on the diplomas, the peculiar cypher, called
Togray, generally written in a fine orna-
mented hand. This esteemed accomplish-
ment, in which the poet excelled, was one of
58 TOGRAY
the causes of the enmity of Sultan Mahmoud's
vizir, the same who was the enemy of Ferdusi.
Togray was vizir to the sultan of Moussul,
who was conquered by Mahmoud, and, being
taken, the poet was put to death, from envy,
by the rival vizir. A short time before, he
had written some lines on the birth of a son,
which show what his age was at the period :
'This child, born to me in my old age,
has charmed my eyes, and inspired me, at
the same time, with grave reflections, for
fifty-seven years leave traces on the face of
the hardest stone.'
A collection of the poems of Togray has
been made, the most celebrated of which is
that called Lamiya-al-ajem, so called because
all the verses terminate with the letter
lam ; the Persian al-ajem is added to
distinguish it from an ancient poem of the
same name, by another author.
The poet was addicted to alchemy, and
wrote a treatise on the philosopher's stone.
EULOGY ON KASHMEER.
Hail to the city from whose bowers
The glowing paradise of flowers !
Soft zephyrs waft the rose's breath,
By moonlit night and blushing morn,
Even to the ruby, hid beneath
The golden hills of Badakhshan !
EULOGY ON KASHMEER 59
Whose gale with perfume-laden wing,
O'er Arab deserts hovering,
A tint as radiant can. bestow
As beams that in the emerald glow.
Upon thy mountains fresh and green
The velvet turf is scarcely seen,
So close the jasmines twine around
And strew, with starlike flowers, the
ground,
The ruddy glow of sunset lies
Within thy rich pomegranate's eyes;
And flashing 'midst the tulip-beds,
A blaze of glory round them sheds.
Night dwells amidst thy spicy groves ;
Thy saffron fields the star of morning
loves ;
Thy violets have tales of eyes as fair;
Thy hyacinths of waving, dusky hair;
Thy glittering sunflowers make the
year all spring ;
Thy bees theirstoresareevergathering;
And from the rose's branches, all day
long,
Pours the melodious nightingale her
song;
60 TOGRAY
Amidst the leaves her barklike nest
is tost,
In melody, and love, and beauty lost.
The rich narcissus, quaffing dewy
wine,
Clings to thy breast, where buds un-
numbered twine ;
No eye can see the bound where end
thy bowers,
No tongue can number half thy gem-
like flowers.
Suchfreshness lingers in thy airof balm,
That even the tulip's burning heart
confesses
The life its sigh bestows at ev'ning's
calm,
When the glad cypress shakes her
graceful tresses.
The waves of each rejoicing river
Murmur melody for ever,
And to the sound, in wild amaze,
On their glad creststhedancing bubble
plays.
EULOGY ON KASHMEER 61
' While lotus flowers, just opened, there
\ Look with bright eyes towards heaven
in prayer.
So clear thy waters that, reflected
bright
TheduskyEthiop'sskinispearly white.
Socool,that asthesun his fingers laves,
They shiver onthesurfaceof thy waves.
The immortal lily, pure as angels'
plumes,
All day, all night, the grove with light
illumes ;
> The grove, where garlands,by the roses
made,
Like clustering Pleiads, glimmer
through the shade,
And hide amidst their leaves the
timid dove,
Whose ringed neck proclaims the
slave of love.
Tell me what land can boast such
treasures ?
Is aught so fair, is aught so dear?
Hail ! Paradise of endless pleasures !
Hail! beautiful, beloved Kashmeer!
MOASI, KING OF POETS
MOASI rose from a low station, by the
brilliancy of his genius, to become the
favoured minstrel of a great king, and to
have riches and honours showered upon
him. His fame spread far and wide in the
East, and he has been by some pronounced
as inferior to no poet of his time. It was
at the court of Melek Shah, of Ispahan,
about the middle of the eleventh century,
A.D., that he became celebrated, and re-
ceived the designation of King of Poets and
the dignity of an emir. Khakani made him
his model in versification ; and so renowned
were his odes, that more than a hundred
poets endeavoured to imitate his style.
Moasi was sent by his patron on a mission
to Constantinople, and is said to have re-
turned from thence laden with presents of
rich stuffs and a train of camels ; he seems
to have been more fortunate than most of
his fellow-bards in keeping the favour of
the prince who befriended him, for there are
no vicissitudes recorded in his life.
MYSTICAL ODE 63
The sultan was one evening on the ter-
race of his palace looking for the new moon,
together with many of his nobles ; the royal
eyes were the first to perceive the appear-
ance of the luminary, when he immediately
commanded his poet to extemporise some-
thing on the occasion. Moasi, without hesi-
tation, thus exclaimed :
Thou moon, that gild'st the azure
sphere,
Art thou the fair one's lovely brow?
Or the rich jewel in her ear ?
Or the gold hoop of heaven, art
thou?
Or art thou placed all earth to awe
An arch of triumph for the Shah ?
He was attached to the mysticism of the
Sufis, like almost all the great poets, and
his poems generally breathe the same spirit
which animates them.
MYSTICAL ODE
What are both worlds but the sign
That presents Almighty Love?
What are beauty's rays divine,
But the beams that round Him
move?
Sf
64 MOASI
Since the floods flow from the sea,
Let the river swell with pride ;
Scarce a river can it be,
'Tis itself the ocean tide.
When the small seed springs from
earth,
Leaves, and bark, and fruit have birth ;
But the tree so stately grown,
Was and is a grain alone.
Place thyself, oh, lovely fair!
Where a thousand mirrors are ;
Though a thousand faces shine,
'Tis but one and that is thine.
Then the painter's skill allow,
Who could frame so fair a brow.
What are lustrous eyes of flame,
What are cheeks the rose that shame,
What are glances wild and free,
Speech, and shape,and voice but He?
n
Oh, behold the fair ! again
Gaze upon them as they glide,
For their glances can explain
Secrets hid from all beside.
Beauty first was sent to earth
But to give devotion birth ;
And Moasi gazes on
Till his sense and rest are gone.
He is sunk and given up
To those eyes, and to the cup.
Since that radiant form passed by,
Writhed, like twisted locks, I lie ;
And, like wheels that waters turn,
Now I groan, and sigh, and burn.
I am lost so frail and weak !
Vainly for myself I seek.
In the east I saw a star,
Which allured me from afar ;
And I gave my life to gaze,
Though I perish in its blaze.
66
MOASI
Beauty ! source of joy and pain ;
Beauty ! that no words can speak ;
Mejnoun's eyes must fixed remain
On the rose of Leila's cheek.
And in Love's great empire where
Is a face so heavenly fair ?
When I look on thee, no more
Eden tempts me with its store ;
And the Tuba vainly throws
O'er the scene her perfumed boughs.
I a Paradise can own
When I gaze on thee alone.
Lo ! I die, and carry hence
Nought of profit nor offence ;
After life's brief toil is past,
I am base and poor at last.
When both worlds I thus resign,
Why should hell or heaven be mine ?
Who shall read his future lot ?
I am blind, and see it not.
On the board Moasi traced
But two lines how soon effaced !
They his destiny may show,
But their meaning who shall know ?
' (!"- if
->>r<--
i^sS
KHAKANI
KHAKANI delighted in solitude, like his
fellow -pupil Feleki, but having absented
himself from court without permission in
order to enjoy it, he was pursued by order
of Manucheher, and confined for seven
months in the fortress of Schabran, where
he had frequent conversations with certain
captive Christians, and wrote a poem in
praise of Christianity. Nevertheless, after
his release he made a pilgrimage to Mecca,
and wrote a kasstdeh on the journey, in
which he describes the perils of the desert.
There is an odd story told of him and
his patron, who appears to have been a dan-
gerous person to deal with. The poet sent
a letter to the prince requesting a present
of a lynx, or a hive of bees : at which the
patron was so much offended, that he
should have the boldness to fetter his
generosity with an or, that he sent an order
for him to be instantly put to death.
The terrified bard, to screen himself, threw
68 KHAKANI
the blame on a fly smeared with honey,
which, he said, had blotted the point under
the word with (ba\ and made it (ya\ or,
insisting that he had begged for a lynx and
a hive of bees also. The ingenious expedient
succeeded, and he escaped.
His death took place at Tabriz, A.D.
1 1 86 (A.H. 582). He is considered the most
learned of the lyric poets of Persia.
The following is curious, from the repeti-
tion at the end of each stanza : the poet
seems in love with an unknown beauty :
GAZEL
O waving cypress ! cheek of rose !
jasmine-breathing bosom ! say,
Tell me each charm that round her
glows ;
Who are ye that my heart betray ;
Tyrant unkind to whom I bow,
life-destroyer ! who art thou ?
1 saw thy form of waving grace,
1 heard thy soft and gentle sighs ;
I gazed on that enchanting face,
And looked in thy narcissus eyes ;
w-
I
II
GAZEL
69 V
Oh ! by the hopes thy smiles allow,
Bright soul-inspirer ! who art thou ?
Where'er she walks,amidst the shades,
Where perfumed hyacinths unclose,
Danger her ev'ry glance pervades
Her bow is bent on friends and foes.
The rich cheek shames the rose thy
brow
Is liketheyoung moon whoart thou?
Thy poet-slave has dared to drain
Draughts of thy beauty, till his soul,
Confused and lost in pleasing pain,
Is fled beyond his own control.
What bliss can life accord me now
But once to know thee ! whoart thou ?
i
ii
OMAR KHIAM
OMAR was one of the most remarkable, as
well as the most distinguished, of the poets
of Persia, at the latter end of the twelfth
century 7 . He was altogether unprecedented
in regard to the freedom of his religious
opinions or, rather, his boldness in de-
nouncing hypocrisy and intolerance, and the
enlightened views he took of the fanaticism
and mistaken devotion of his countrymen.
He may be called the Voltaire of Persia,
though his writings are not calculated to
shock European notions so much as those
of the followers of the Prophet. The priests
were his great enemies, and he was pecu-
liarly hated by the false devotees, whose arts
he exposed. His indulgence to other creeds
gave great offence, and his liberty of speech
drew down upon him continued censure ; yet
was he extremely popular, and his composi-
tions were read with avidity by those who
were not bigots, and the admiration of this
class consoled him for the enmity of the other.
PROFESSION OF FAITH 71
He was born at Nishapour, and devoted
much of his time to the study of astronomy,
of which science he was a learned professor ;
but it is asserted by his ill-wishers, that
instead of his studies leading him to the
acknowledgment of the power of the
Supreme Being, they prompted him to
disbelief. The result of his reflections on
this important subject is given in a poem
of his, much celebrated, under the title of
Rubajat Omar Khiam.
He was the friend of Hassan Sabah, the
founder of the sect of the Assassins ; and
it has been conjectured, assisted him in the
establishment of his diabolical doctrines and
fellowship. Some allowance must, however,
be made for the prejudices of his historians,
who would, of course, neglect nothing cal-
culated to cast odium on one so inimical to
their superstitions.
Omar Khiam seems particularly to direct
his satire against the mysticism of Moasi,
and the rest of the Mystic Poets.
The following will give an idea of his
compositions :
PROFESSION OF FAITH
Ye who seek for pious fame,
And that light should gild your name,
72 OMAR KHIAM
Be this duty ne'er forgot,
Love your neighbour harm him not.
To Thee, Great Spirit, I appeal,
Who canst the gates of truth unseal ;
I follow none, nor ask the way
Of men who go, like me, astray ;
They perish, but Thou canst not die,
But liv'st to all eternity.
Such is vain man's uncertain state,
A little makes him base or great ;
One hand shall hold the Koran's scroll,
The other raise the sparkling bowl
One saves, and one condemns the
soul.
The temple I frequent is high,
A turkis-vaulted dome the sky,
That spans the worlds with majesty.
Not quite a Moslem is my creed,
Nor quite a Giaour ; my faith, indeed,
May startle some who hear me say,
I 'd give my pilgrim staff away,
And sell my turban, for an hour
Of music in a fair one's bower.
I 'd sell the rosary for wine,
Though holy names around it twine.
GAZEL 73
And prayers the pious make so long
Are turned by me to joyous song ;
Or, if a prayer I should repeat,
It is at my beloved's feet.
They blame me that my words are
clear ;
Because I am what I appear ;
Nor do my acts my words belie
At least, I shun hypocrisy.
It happened that but yesterday
I marked a potter beating clay.
The earth spoke out ' Why dost
thou strike?
Both thou and I are born alike ;
Though some may sink, and some
may soar,
We all are earth, and nothing more.'
His verses in praise of beauty and wine
are much esteemed :
GAZEL
Nature made me love the rose,
And my hand was formed alone
Thus the v/ine-cup to enclose ;
Blame then ye, the goblet's foes
Nature's fault, and not my own.
74
OMAR KHIAM
When a Houri form appears,
Which a vase of ruby bears,
Call me Giaour if then I prize
All the joys of Paradise !
IN PRAISE OF WINE
Morn's first rays are glimmering,
From the skies the stars are
creeping;
Rouse, for shame, the goblet bring,
All too long thou liest sleeping :
Open those narcissus eyes,
Wake be happy and be wise !
Why, ungrateful man, repine,
When this cup is bright with wine?
All my life I Ve sought in vain
Knowledge and content to gain ;
All that Nature could unfold,
Have I in her page unrolled ;
All of glorious and grand
I have sought to understand.
'Twas in youth my early thought,
Riper years no wisdom brought,
Life is ebbing, sure though slow,
And I feel I nothing know.
THE VANITY OF REGRET 75
Bring the bowl ! at least in this
Dwells no shadowed distant bliss ;
See ; I clasp the cup whose power
Yields more wisdom in an hour
Than whole years of study give,
Vainly seeking how to live.
Wine disperses into air
Selfish thoughts and selfish care.
Dost thou know why wine I prize ?
He who drinks all ill defies,
And can awhile throw off the thrall
Of self, the god we worship all !
THE VANITY OF REGRET
Nothing in this world of ours
Flows as we would have it flow ;
What avail, then, careful hours,
Thoughtand trouble,tearsand woe?
Through the shrouded veil of earth,
Life's rich colours gleaming bright,
Though in truth of little worth,
Yet allure with meteor light.
Life is torture and suspense ;
Thought is sorrow drive it hence !
With no will of mine I came,
With no will depart the same.
7 6
OMAR KHIAM
THE CUP
Know'st thou whence the hues arc
drawn
Which the tulip's leaves adorn ?
Tis that blood has soaked the earth,
Where her beauties had their birth.
Know'st thou why the violet's eyes
Gleam with dewy purple dyes ?
'Tis that tears, for love untrue,
Bathed the banks where first she grew.
If no roses bloom for me,
Thorns my only flowers must be :
If no sun shine on my way,
Torches must provide my day.
Let me drink, as drink the wise:
Pardon for our weakness lies
In the cup for Heaven well knew,
When I first to being sprung,
I should love the rosy dew,
And its praise would oft be sung.
'Twere impiety to say
We would cast the cup away,
And be votaries no more,
Since it was ordained before.
PREDESTINATION
77
The latter part of the poem seems intended
to ridicule the belief in predestination,
carried to so absurd an extent by Moham-
medans in general. Reland cites these lines
on the subject :
That which is written must arrive ;
Tis vain to murmur or to strive :
Give up all thoughts to God, for He
Has fixed thy doom by His decree :
All good, all ill, depends on fate,
The slaves of God must bear and
wait.
This belief in predestination extends to
every created thing, not being confined to
man alone. Sadee relates, in his Gulistan,
a story of a fisherman, who had caught a fish
which his strength did not allow him to
drag to shore. Fearing to be drawn into the
river himself, he abandoned his line, and
the fish swam away with the bait in his
mouth. His companions mocked him, and
he replied: 'What could I do? This
animal escaped because his last hour, fixed
by fate, was not yet come. Fate governs all,
and the fisherman cannot overcome it more
than another, nor can he catch fish, if fate
is against him, even in the Tigris. The
- *
.-
". ~. ,;
OMAR KHIAM
fish itself, even though dry, would not die, if
it was the will of fate to preserve its life.'
The poet adds : ' O man ! why shouldst
thou fear ? If thy hour is not come, in vain
would thy enemy rush against thee with his
lance in rest : his arms and his feet would
be tied by fate, and the arrow would be
turned away, though in the hands of the
most expert archer.'
A father is made thus to speak to his
son : ' Honours and riches are not the
fruits of our efforts, therefore give thyself
no useless trouble ; they cannot be obtained
by force, and all efforts are of no more ser-
vice than collyrium on the eyes of the blind.
Thou mayst be a prodigy of genius, but all
thy acquirements are of no avail if fate is
against thee!
A poet's version of the same idea runs
thus :
Reproach me not, and vainly say
' Why idly thus, from day to day,
Let every good pass by thy door,
Nor swell by industry thy store ? '
I answer, labour, toil, and pain,
Prudence, wit, foresight, all is vain.
Travels are useless : some succeed,
But others but to failure lead.
(TV s/ \ d-^~^^L\ f-V 'Vi'^ '"I I*
- ; ,: ' -- -', .
MWi rdTrtowWi <^Tr\ocAMl (37f\y7BJl
THE WISDOM OF THE SUPREME 79
Fate rules the miser counts his
heaps,
And Fortune crowns him whilst he
sleeps !
The poem which follows, by Omar Khiam,
is in a strain of philosophy of a higher order.
THE WISDOM OF THE SUPREME
All we see above, around
Is but built on fairy ground :
All we trust is empty shade
To deceive our reason made.
Tell me not of Paradise,
Or the beams of houris' eyes ;
Who the truth of tales can tell
Cunning priests invent so well ?
He who leaves this mortal shore,
Quits it to return no more.
In vast life's unbounded tide
They alone content may gain
Who can good from ill divide,
Or in ignorance abide
All between is restless pain.
8o OMAR KHIAM
Before Thy prescience, Power divine,
What is this idle sense of mine?
What all the learning of the schools?
What sages, priests, and pedants ?
Fools !
The world is Thine, from Thee it rose,
By Thee it ebbs, by Thee it flows.
Hence, worldly lore ! By whom is
wisdom shown ?
The Eternal knows, knows all, and
He alone !
<
FLOWERS AND BIRDS
am from birdsand flowers, O man *
Virtues that may gild thy name ;
nd their faults, if thou wouldst scan,
Know thy failings are the same :
The fair narcissus, humble still,
Reflecting on her lowly birth,
And feeling Nature, prone to ill,
Inclines her soft eyes to the earth.
82 AZZ' EDDIN ELMOCADESSI
The water-lily, pale with care,
Mourns as the waters pass her
by;
'Alas!' she sighs, 'what woes I
bear !
And must submit to misery :
But time can never teach my heart
From love's delusive joy to part !'
The willow is the only tree
Whose slender boughs for ever
wave ;
Devotion in their homage see
To Him who leaves and blossoms
gave :
And love that gentle willow knows,
Bending its glances towards the
rose.
The modest jasmine is content,
She whispers, ' Lovers, why lament?'
The bright anemone to view
Is bright and fair in shape and
hue ;
\
'1
FLOWERS AND BIRDS 83
But in her leaves no perfume dwells,
And in her heart is wickedness :
With secret scorn her bosom swells ;
Her crimes upon her mem'ry
press :
' Behold,' she muses, ' beauty glows,
All radiant in each outward part ;
But, ah ! my soul too sadly knows
That vice is burning in my heart !
Thou see'st the nightingale in
spring
He seems as joy were all his
own
From tree to tree, with rapid wing,
He flits, with love in ev'ry tone ;
So volatile, so debonair,
As though he never knew a care.
But ah! how much art thou deceived!
His heart is filled with pensive
pain,
For earth's frail lot his soul is
grieved ;
He sees her glory's fleeting train,
"*-*
T
84 AZZ' EDDIN ELMOCADESSI
And how each beauty withers fast,
Nor leaves a shadow where it passed.
He knows that ruin soon will seize
The sweetest flowers, the fairest trees ;
He knows the garden will decay,
And marks it fading day by day.
Thus, if aright thou read his song,
It tells of grief the whole year long !
Know'st thou why round his neck
the dove
A collar wears ? it is to tell
He is the faithful slave of love,
And serves all those who serve him
well.
The swallow leaves his lowly nest,
And hies him to a foreign shore :
He loves with courtly man to rest,
From whom he learns a higher
lore
Than if he kept amongst his kind,
Nor sought with care to store his
FLOWERS AND BIRDS 85
And men the welcome swallow prize,
For he a kindly guest is known ;
No base or selfish end he tries,
But friendly converse seeks alone.
The owl has learnt the world's deceit,
Its vanity and struggles vain ;
And deems it flattery unmeet,
A thought from reason to obtain.
Apart from the perfidious throng,
In wisdom's contemplative mood,
To Heaven she gives her whole life
long,
And steals to holy solitude.
The peacock, wedded to the world,
Of all her gorgeous plumage vain,
With glowing banners wide unfurled,
Sweeps slowly by in proud dis-
dain;
But in her heart a torment lies,
That dims the lustre of those dyes ;
She turns away her glance but no,
Her hideous feet appear below !
m
86 AZZ 1 EDDIN ELMOCADESSI
And fatal echoes, deep and loud,
Her secret mind's dark caverns
stir;
She knows, though beautiful and
proud,
That Paradise is not for her.
For, when in Eden's blissful spot
Lost Eblis tempted man, she dared
To join the treach'rous angel's plot,
And thus his crime and sentence
shared.
Her frightful claws remind her well
Of how she sinned and how she
fell ;
And when they meet her startled
eyes,
Her fearful shrieks appal the skies !
The parrot talks and does his best
To make life pass with cheerful
mien,
In hopes that in the regions blest
Man will befriend and take him in.
~
-
-~:
II
~-
~
\i
-:
it
H
65
>.-
n
-f
M
$
i
w
FLOWERS AND BIRDS 87
The bat retires to some lone cell,
Where worldly noise can ne'er
intrude ;
Where he in shade may calmly
dwell,
And spend the day in solitude.
Modest and peaceful, well he knows
How frail is man, how false his
ways ;
And turns him from day's empty
shows,
And from the sun's intemperate
blaze.
He is enamoured of the night,
And while no rival comes be-
tween,
The stars can yield him ample light,
When he may watch and gaze
unseen ;
Then he retires to muse once more,
On all her beauty's wondrous store ;
And feels fair night has charms for
him,
To which day's garish rays are dim.
88 AZZ' EDDIN ELMOCADESSI
The bee draws forth from fruit and
flower
Sweet dews, that swell his golden
dower ;
But never injures by his kiss
Those who have made him rich in
bliss.
The moth, though tortured by the
flame,
Still hovers round and loves the same :
Nor is his fond attachment less
' Alas ! ' he whispers, ' can it be,
Spite of my ceaseless tenderness,
That I am doomed to death by
thee?'
NIZAMI, the first of the 'romantic
poets,' flourished in the sixth year
of the Hejira, and was surnamed
Canjehur, from his native city
in the province of Orran, near
Berdaa.
His principal works are called
the Five Treasures : they are, The
Loves of Khosrii and Shireen ;
The Loves of Mejnoun and Leila ;
The Sikander Namah (Life of
Alexander) ; The Seven Beauties ;
and a moral poem called The
Magazine of Mysteries.
Nizami has succeeded beyond
all other poets on the subject of
i
,
\ i
90
NIZAMI
Shireen, although he did not neglect any of
the popular traditions of Persia. This is
acknowledged as his chef tfceuvre.
THE STORY OF KHOSRU TARVIZ
Khosru Parviz lived A.D. 590 : he was a
prince of exalted virtues and great magnifi-
cence : he fought against the Greek emperors
with success,but was at last defeated by Hera-
clius. He is said to have married a daughter
of the Emperor Maurice, named Irene, called
by the Persians Shireen, or Sweet.
Ferhad's history forms a tragical episode
in this romance. He was a statuary, cele-
brated throughout the East for his great
genius, but was daring enough to fix his affec-
tions on the beloved of a king. The jealousy
of Khosru was excited, and he lamented
to his courtiers the existence of a passion
which was so violent as not to be con-
cealed, and which gave him great uneasiness.
He was recommended to employ Ferhad in
such a manner as to occupy his whole life,
and divert him from his dangerous dream :
accordingly, as on one occasion the fair
Shireen had, somewhat unreasonably, re-
quired of her royal lover a river of Milk, he
made her desire a pretext for the labours he
imposed on his presumptuous rival.
Ferhad was summoned to the presence of
Khosru, and commissioned by the king to
FERHAD AND SHIREEN 91
execute a work which should render his
name immortal, but one which, to ac-
complish, demanded almost superhuman
powers : this was to clear away all im-
pediments which obstructed the passage of
the great mountain of Beysitoun, at that
time impassable in consequence of its
mighty masses of rock and stone. He
commanded him, after having done this,
to cause the rivers on the opposite side
of the mountain to join.
Ferhad, nothing daunted, replied that he
would remove the very heart of the rock
from the king's path ; but on condition that
the lovely Shireen should be the reward of
his labours. Khosru, secretly triumphing in
the conviction that what the artist under-
took was impossible, consented to his terms,
and the indefatigable lover began his work.
THE LABOURS OF FERHAD
On lofty Beysitoun the lingering sun
Looks down on ceaseless labours,
long begun :
The mountain trembles to the echo-
ing sound
Of falling rocks, that from her sides
rebound.
92 NIZAMI
Each day all respite, all repose
denied
No truce, no pause, the thundering
strokes are plied ;
The mist of night around her summit
coils,
But still Ferhad, the lover-artist, toils,
And still the flashes of his axe
between
He sighs to ev'ry wind, ' Alas !
Shireen !
Alas ! Shireen ! my task is well-
nigh done, [alone.
The goal in view for which I strive
Love grants me powers that Nature
might deny ;
And, whatsoe'er my doom, the
world shall tell,
Thy lover gave to immortality
Her name he loved so fatally so
well !
The enamoured sculptor prophesied
aright ; for the wonderful efforts made by
this ' slave of love ' left imperishable monu-
ments of his devotion, in the carved caverns
which, to this day, excite the amazement
THE STREAM OF MILK
93
and admiration of the traveller who visits
the Kesr-e-Shireen, or 'Villa of Shireen,'
and follows the stream called Joui-shur,
or 'stream of milk,' which flows from the
mountain, between Ramadan and Hulwan.
Ferhad first constructed a recess or
chamber in the rock, wherein he carved the
figure of Shireen, near the front of the
opening : she was represented surrounded
by attendants and guards ; while in the
centre of the cave was an equestrian statue of '
Khosru, clothed in armour, the workmanship
so exquisite that the nails and buttons of the
coat of mail were clearly to be seen, and are
said to be so still. An eye-witness says :
' Whoso looks on the stone would imagine
it to be animated.' The chamber and the
statues remain still there. As Ferhad con-
tinued to hew away pieces of the rock, which
are like as many columns, the task was soon
performed. The vestiges of the chisel re-
main, so that the sculptures appear recent.
The horse of Khosru was exquisitely carved :
it was called Shebdiz.
THE GREAT WORK
A hundred arms were weak one
block to move
Of thousands, moulded by the hand
of Love
9 4 NIZAMI
I nto fantastic shapes and forms of grace,
Which crowd each nook of that
majestic place.
The piles give way, the rocky peaks
divide,
The stream comes gushing on a
foaming tide !
A mighty work, for ages to remain,
The token of his passion and his pain.
As flows the milky flood from Allah's
throne,
Rushes the torrent from the yielding
stone ;
And sculptured there, amazed, stern
Khosru stands,
And sees, with frowns, obeyed his
harsh commands :
While she, the fair beloved, with
being rife,
Awakes the glowing marble into life.
Ah ! hapless youth ; ah ! toil repaid
by woe,
A king thy rival and the world thy foe!
THE GREAT WORK 95
Will she wealth, splendour, pomp for
thee resign ?
And only genius, truth, and passion
thine !
Around the pair, lo ! groups of
courtiers wait,
And slaves and pages crowd in solemn
state ;
From columns imaged wreaths their
garlands throw,
And fretted roofs with stars appear
to glow ;
Fresh leaves and blossoms seem
around to spring,
And feathered throngs their loves are
murmuring ;
The hands of Peris might have
wrought those stems,
Where dewdrops hang their fragile
diadems ;
And strings of pearl and sharp-cut
diamonds shine,
New from the wave, or recent from
the mine.
96 NIZAMI
' Alas ! Shireen ! ' at every stroke he
cries ;
At every stroke fresh miracles arise :
' For thee these glories and these
wonders all,
For thee I triumph, or for thee I fall;
j,) For thee my life one ceaseless toil
has been,
Inspire my soul anew : Alas! Shireen!'
The task of the rival of Khosru was at
length completed, and the king heard with
dismay of his success : all the courtiers were
terrified at the result of their advice, and saw
that some further stratagem was necessary.
They therefore engaged an old woman who
had been known to Ferhad, and in whom
he had confidence, to report to him tidings
$7 which would at once destroy his hopes.
THE MESSENGER
What raven note disturbs his musing
mood?
What form comes stealing on his
solitude?
Ungentle messenger, whose word of ill
All the warm feelings of his soul can
chill !
THE MESSENGER 97
*' Cease, idle youth, to waste thy days,'
she said,
i' By empty hopes a visionary made ;
Why in vain toil thy fleeting life con-
sume [tomb.
To frame a palace? rather hew a
Even like sere leaves that autumn
winds have shed,
Perish thy labours, for Shireen is
dead ! ' M
He heard the fatal news no word,
no groan ;
He spoke not, moved not, stood
transfixed to stone.
Then, with a frenzied start, he raised
on high
His arms, and wildly tossed them
towards the sky ; [flung
Far in the wide expanse his axe he
And from the precipice at once he
sprung.
The rocks, the sculptured caves, the
valleys green,
Sent back his dying cry ' Alas !
Shireen ! '
98 NIZAMI
The legend goes on to relate that the
handle of the axe flung away by Ferhad,
being of pomegranate wood, took root on
the spot where it fell, and became a flourish-
ing tree : it possessed healing powers, and
was much resorted to by believers long
afterwards.
Khosru, on learning this catastrophe, did
not conceal his satisfaction, but liberally re- "
warded the old woman who had caused so
fatal a termination to the career of his rival ;
but the gentle-hearted Shireen heard of his
fate with grief, and shed many tears on his
tomb.
The charms of Shireen were destined to
create mischief, for the king had a son by
a former marriage, who became enamoured
of his fatally beautiful mother-in-law. His
father, Khosru, was, in the end, murdered
by his hand, and Shireen became the object
of his importunities. Wearied, at length,
with constant struggles, she feigned to give
him a favourable answer, and promised, if
he would permit her to visit the grave of her
husband, when she returned she would be his.
Shireen accordingly went on her melancholy
errand, and, true to her affection for her
beloved Khosrfl, stabbed herself, and died
upon his tomb.
y
I
<s
THE great poet Sadi is esteemed
amongst the Persians as a mas-
ter in poetry and in morality.
He is better known in Europe
than any other Eastern author
except Hafiz, and has been more
frequently translated. Jami calls
him 'The Nightingale of the
Groves of Shiraz,' of which city
(which can boast of being the
birthplace of some of the most
celebrated men of Persia) he
was a native.
Sadi was born about 1194,
and his life extended, it is said,
over a period of one hundred
ioo SADI
and two years, great part of which time he
spent in travel and the acquisition of know-
ledge, and a considerable portion in retire-
ment and devotion. He is called 'the most
poignant of the eloquent,' and his works are
termed ' the salt-mine of poets,' being revered
as unrivalled models of the first genius in the
world.
His descent was good, though his family
was decayed in point of wealth, and some of
its members were engaged in commercial
pursuits. Though he was twice married
during his long career, like our own great
poet Milton, his opinion of women is by
no means flattering, as, for instance, when
he says .
' Take your wife's opinion, and act in
opposition to it.'
On another occasion he most ungallantly
observes
' Choose a fresh wife every spring, or new
year's day ; for the almanac of last year is
good for nothing.'
His philosophy enabled him to support
all the ills of life with patience and forti-
tude ; and one of his remarks, arising from
the destitute condition in which he once
found himself, is deserving preservation
' I never complained of my condition but
once, ivhen my feet were bare> and I had
not money to buy shoes : but I met a man
THE WATERS OF IMMORTALITY 101
without feet, and became contented with my
lot.'
When a boy he confesses to have been
religious overmuch, and mentions a judicious
reproof of his father, on his ridiculing some
friends who fell asleep \\hile the Koran was
being read. 'You had better,' said he, 'have
been asleep yourself than occupied in dis-
covering faults in your neighbours.'
Sadi made the holy pilgrimage no less
than fourteen times ; and so great was his
reputation for sanctity, that his admirers
look upon him as a saint, and attribute
to him the power of working miracles. He
led the life for some time of a sacayt, or
water-drawer, in the Holy Land, and was
accustomed to administer to the wants of
the thirsty traveller, till at length he was
found worthy of an introduction to the
prophet Khizr a mysterious personage,
the subject of endless allusion in Eastern
works, who moistened his mouth with the
waters of immortality. To doubt this legend
was considered sacrilegious. Several other
poets, it seems, applied for a draught to
this keeper of ' the sacred well,' but without
success. Hafiz, however, boasts, and his
followers believe, that he obtained some
of its inspiring waters.
The works of Sadi are very numerous,
and all popular and familiar in every mouth
in the East. His two greatest works are
the Bostan and GulistSn t which abound in
striking beauties, and show great purity of
feeling and knowledge of human nature.
'
CONTENTMENT
FROM THE BOSTAN
Smile not, nor think the legend vain,
That in old times a worthless stone
Such power in holy hands could gain,
That straight a silver heap it shone.
Thy alchemist Contentment be,
Equal is stone or ore to thee.
The infant's pure unruffled breast
No avarice nor pride molest :
He fills his little hands with earth,
Nor knows that silver has more
worth.
The sultan sits in pomp and state,
And sees the dervish at his gate ;
But yet of wealth the sage has more
Than the great king, with all his store.
THE PLAIN OF DISAPPEARANCE 103
Rich is a beggar, worn and spent,
To whom a silver coin is thrown ;
But Feridoun was not content,
Though Ajum's kingdom was his
own.
Most of the prose works of Sadi are
mixed with verse, a custom very general
with Oriental writers. In every department
of poetry he excelled, and all he touched was
rendered valuable. The favourite romances
of Persia were not left unnoticed by him,
but these subjects are generally thought to
have been more successfully treated by
Nizami, Hatifi, and Jami.
A variety of romantic anecdotes are told
of Sadi in his travels : the following is
singularly wild and poetical :
' Sadi, when in Armenia, became much
attached to a young man of his own age.
In that country people died not the natural
death, but on a particular day, once a year,
they were in the habit of meeting on a
plain near their principal cities, when they
occupied themselves in recreation and
amusement, in the midst of which indivi-
duals of every age and rank would suddenly
stop, make a reverence to the west, gird
up their loins, and setting out full speed
towards that quarter of the desert, were
no more seen or heard of.
IO4
SADI
' Sadi had often remarked that the rela-
tions of those persons made few observations
or explanations on their disappearance. At
last, on such an anniversary, Sadi observed
that his friend was preparing to set off, when
he seized upon his girdle, and insisted upon
knowing what it meant. The youth solemnly
enjoined him to let him go, for that the
Malic-al-mo-at,or angel of death, had already
called on him twice, and on the third call
he must obey his destiny, whether he would
or no ; but Sadi kept his hold, and found
himself carried along with such velocity
as deprived him of the power of knowing
whither they went. At last they stopped
in a verdant plain in the midst of the desert,
when the youth stretched himself upon the
earth : the turf opened, and he was swal-
lowed up.
' Sadi threw dust over the spot, lamented
him in beautiful verse, and set about
finding the way back : he had to cross
rivers of molten gold, silver, and copper,
through deserts and wildernesses, and over
mountains of snow, before he found himself
once more at the place from whence he had
started.'
Although a gem be cast away,
And lie obscured in heaps of clay,
Its precious worth is still the same ;
Although vile dust be whirled to
heaven,
To such no dignity is given,
Still base as when from earth it
came.
I saw the demon in a dream,
But how unlike he seemed to be,
To all of horrible we deem,
And all of fearful that we see.
His shape was like a cypress bough,
His eyes like those that Houris
wear,
His face as beautiful as though
The rays of Paradise were there.
I near him came, and spoke ' Art
thou,'
I said, 'indeed the Evil One?
io6
SADI
No angel has so bright a brow,
Such yet no eye has looked upon.
Why should mankind make thee a jest,
When thou canst show a face like
this?
Fair as the moon in splendour drest,
An eye of joy, a smile of bliss !
The painter draws thee vile to sight,
Our baths thy frightful form dis-
play ;
They told me thou wert black as
night,
Behold ! thou art as fair as day ! '
The lovely vision's ire awoke,
His voice was loud, and proud his
mien,
' Believe not, friend,' 'twas thus he
spoke,
' That thou my likeness yet hast
seen :
The pencil that my portrait made
Was guided by an envious foe ;
In Paradise I man betrayed,
And he, from hatred, paints me so.'
\
li
-~:
u
-'
I
ii
-~:
FERID-ED-DEEN ATTAR, of Nizapoor, was
called the ' scourge of spiritual men ' ; he
was one of the great Sufi masters, and his
life was spent in devotion and contempla-
tion. He lived in the reign of Sanjah, in
A.D. 1119, and, in common with several
other famous poets, died at a very advanced
age, namely, that of 114 years. It would
seem that poetry in the East was favourable
to human life, by so many of its professors
attaining to such an age, particularly those
who professed the Sufi doctrine.
His great work is the Perid Namah, a
moral poem, containing useful maxims, of
which the following are specimens :
THE WAY TO PARADISE
Wouldst thou inherit Paradise,
These maxims keep before thine eyes ;
So thy heart's mirror shall appear,
For ever shining bright and clear.
Give thanks when Fortune smiles
serene,
Be patient when her frown is seen ;
io8
ATTAR
If thou hast sinned, for pardon plead,
And help shall follow at thy need.
But shall he hope the prize to hold,
Who with new sins conceals the old ?
Be penitent, be watchful still,
And fly the votaries of ill ;
Avoid the paths that lead to vice,
And win thy way to Paradise.
THE PRAISE OF THE ALMIGHTY
Unbounded praise to God be given,
Who from His throne, the height of
heaven,
Looked on this handful of frail
earth
Unnoticed man and gave him birth.
On Adam breathed, and bade the
wave
Pause, and His servant, Noah, save ;
The tempest, with His terrors clad,
And swept from earth the tribe of Ad.
And for His 'friend,' O blissful
name!
To roses changed a bed of flame :
PERID NAMAH 109
The smallest insect, at His will,
Becomes an instrument of ill.
He spoke, the sea o'erwhelms His
foes,
And the hard rock a camel grows !
The iron turns, at His command,
To pliant wax, in David's hand.
To Solomcfn He gave his sway,
And bade the Dives his sign obey ;
To one a diadem is given,
Another's head the saw has riven.
Impartial in His goodness still,
Equal to all is good or ill.
One lies on Persian silk reclined,
One naked in a frozen wind ;
One scarce can count his heaps of ore,
One faints with hunger at the door.
He bade a virgin's child appear,
And made an infant's witness clear.
The Dives before His vengeance fly,
By hosts of stars expelled the sky,
And kings, who hold the world in
thrall,
At His great word to ruin fall.
THE MOOLAH OF RUM
JELAL-ED-DIN Rftivii, usually called The
Moolah, was born at Balkh, a city of
Khorassan. His father, Boha-ed-din Veled,
enjoyed distinguished honours there, under
the domination of Shah Mohammed Kha-
rizm. He was an enthusiastic follower of
the doctrine of the Sufis, and became so
celebrated as a preacher and expounder that
people nocked from all parts of Persia to
hear him discourse. He died in the year of
the Hejira 631 (A.D. 1233).
His son succeeded him as head of the
sect, but surpassed his father, not only in
the peculiar virtues and attainments of the
Sufis, but by his splendid poetical genius.
Retired from the world, wholly absorbed in
meditation, and in a total forgetfulness of
his material existence, he never appeared to
men except to reveal the august secrets of
A SUFI PHILOSOPHER m
his mysterious doctrine, and living the most
perfect model of a Sufi, this 'precious pearl
of the ocean of mysticism quitted this fragile
world' in A.D. 1272, at the age of sixty-nine
years.
His famous poems are collected into a
book called Kullyat-al Mesnevy. They are
generally regarded as the most perfect
models of the mystic style ; but its obscurity
is a great obstacle to the thorough com-
prehension of the compositions. ' There
is,' says Sir William Jones, 'a depth and
solemnity in his works unequalled by any
poet of this class ; even Hafiz must be con-
sidered inferior to him.'
A Persian critic was asked how it hap-
pened that the two most celebrated Persian
Sufi poets should differ so much in their
description of love.
Hafiz observes : ' Love, at first sight,
appeared easy, but afterwards full of diffi-
culties.'
The Moolah, in direct opposition, says :
' Love at first resembles a murderer, that
he may alarm all who are without his
pale.'
' Poor Hafiz,' says the critic, 'did not find
out till the last what the wiser Moolah saw
at a glance.'
The following is a specimen of his lighter
poetry :
ii2 THE MOOLAH OF RUM
THE FAIREST LAND
' Tell me, gentle traveller, thou
Who hast wandered far and wide,
Seen the sweetest roses blow,
And the brightest rivers glide ;
Say, of all thine eyes have seen,
Which the fairest land has been ? '
' Lady, shall I tell thee where
Nature seems most blest and fair,
Far above all climes beside ?
Tis where those we love abide :
And that little spot is best
Which the loved one's foot hath
pressed.
1 Though it be a fairy space,
Wide and spreading is the place ;
Though 'twere but a barren mound,
Twould become enchanted ground.
' With thee yon sandy waste would
seem
The margin of Al Cawthar's stream ;
And thou canst make a dungeon's
gloom
A bower where new-born roses bloom.'
AMONGST all the poets of Persia, he whose name,
if not his works, is most familiar to the English
reader is Mohammed Schems-ed-din Hafiz, the
prince of Persian lyric poets, of whom Shiraz
may boast, that to that charming city a greater
n 4 HAFIZ
charm was added in his birth, at the begin-
ning of the fourteenth century of the
Christian era. His surname of Hafiz in-
dicates that he was master of the whole
Koran, the word expressing keeper, or
possessor. Leading a- life of poverty, of
which he was proud, for he considered
poverty the companion of genius, he con-
stantly refused the invitations of monarchs
to visit their courts ; and only once yielded
to these frequent solicitations in the instance
of the Prince of Yezd, whose want of
generosity confirmed him in his resolution
never again to leave his native place, where
he remained till his death, in the year of the
Hejira 791 (A.D. 1389).
The endless variety of the poems of Hafiz,
their brilliancy, energy, and originality, are
so striking, that, as Sir William Jones justly
remarks, it is difficult to select specimens,
so replete with surpassing beauty, thought,
feeling, and expression are they. To open
his book at hazard, and fix on the first lines
that occur, is a safe plan, as it is impossible
to choose amiss in that garden of ever-
blooming roses.
The grace, ease, and fancy of his numbers
are inimitable, like those of our own poet
Moore ; and there is a magic in his lays
which few, even of his professed enemies,
have been able to resist. To the young, the
gay, and the enthusiastic, his verses are
ever welcome, and the sage discovers in
them a hidden mystery, which reconciles
him to their subjects.
There is a curious story told of the dis-
pute which occurred at the time of his death,
between those who condemned and those
who admired the poet. The former objected
to his being buried in consecrated ground ;
the latter insisted that he had never offended
against religion or morals, and deserved
every honour that could be bestowed. It
was at length agreed that a line of his own
should decide, and the book being opened
at the following passage, all opposition was
overcome at once :
' Withdraw not your steps from the obse-
quies of Hafiz ; though immersed in sin, he
will rise in Paradise.'
His tomb, near Shiraz, has been, from
that day, visited as a sacred spot by pilgrims
of all ages : the place of his birth is held in
veneration, and there is not a Persian whose
heart does not echo his strains ; and is there
a poet's in England which does not respond
to the exquisite translation, by Sir William
Jones, of those beautiful mysterious verses
beginning, ' Sweet maid, if thou wouldst
charm my sight'?
Hafiz has been called the Persian Ana-
creon : in this character he composed the
n6
HAFIZ
following Kasidah and Gazels, to which Sir
William Jones alone could do justice :
THE FEAST OF SPRING
My breast is filled with roses,
My cup is crowned with wine,
And by my side reposes
The maid I hail as mine.
The monarch, wheresoe'er he be,
Is but a slave compared to me !
Their glare no torches throwing
Shall in our bower be found ;
Her eyes, like moonbeams glowing,
Cast light enough around :
And well all odours I can spare,
Who scent the perfume of her hair.
The honey-dew thy charm might
borrow,
Thy lip alone to me is sweet ;
When thou art absent, faint with
sorrow
I hide me in some lone retreat.
GAZELS
117
Why talk to me of power or fame?
What are those idle toys to me ?
Why ask the praises of my name?
My joy, my triumph is in thee !
How blest am I ! around me, swelling,
The notes of melody arise ;
I hold the cup, with juice excelling,
And gaze upon thy radiant eyes.
O Hafiz ! never waste thy hours
Without the cup, the lute, and love !
For 'tis the sweetest time of flowers,
And none these moments shall
reprove.
The nightingales around thee sing,
It is the joyous feast of spring.
THE SEASON OF THE ROSE
String the lyre ! Has Fortune ever
Given to men of worth their due ?
Then, since vain is all endeavour,
And we scorn her malice too,
Why should we refuse to share
All the joys these hours prepare?
Now the air is rilled with mirth ;
Now the roses spring from earth ;
118
HAFIZ
Now they bloom, but now alone,
Fear not, though the wise reprove ;
Ere their soft perfume be gone,
Raise the soul to verse and love.
Hafiz ! it were shame to say,
In nightingales like us 'twere
treason,
That we, who make the magic lay,
Sang not in the rose's season.
THE OMEN
This morning I resolved, at last,
All idle thoughts far hence to cast,
And in repentance steep my soul,
Forgot the roses and the bowl !
' Oh, let some omen be my guide,
And I will follow it,' I cried :
But say, alas ! what could I do?
'Twas spring, that breaker of all
vows ;
1 saw the trees their leaves renew,
I saw fresh roses on the boughs :
I saw the merry cup go round,
My rivals with enjoyment crowned !
Whilst I, a looker-on, must see
All gay and full of hope but me !
^--r-\( -_-- ; y :
-fe &$
GAZELS
119
One draught ! but one ! that drunk,
I fly
At once this dang'rous company.
But, ah ! she came ! as buds to light,
My heart expanded at her sight,
And every strong resolve gave way
My rivals saw me blest as they !
I '11 seat my love amidst the bower,
With rosy garlands bind her hair ;
Wreath round her arms the jasmine
flower,
Than those white chains more
sweet and fair,
Away ! I was not born a sage ;
Am I the censor of the age?
Is mine a priest's or judge's part,
To chide at mirth and love like
this?
Elated, like the rose, my heart [bliss.
Throws off its shrouding veil for
Why should I censure wine ? fill full
To her, the kind, the beautiful.
If but one kiss I should obtain,
Youth and delight were mine again ;
And I another age should live,
Such power the smiles of beauty give.
120 HAFIZ
Reproach me, then, ye wise, no more,
Nor say I joy in secret pleasure ;
Let all behold my cup run o'er,
While harp and lute keep joyous
measure.
ON HIS TRAVELS
The world to me has been a home ;
Wherever knowledge could be
sought,
Through differing climes I loved to
roam,
And every shade of feeling caught
From minds, whose varied fruits
The food of my philosophy.
And still the treasures of my store
Have made my wanderings less
severe ;
From every spot some prize I bore,
From every harvest gleaned an ear,
But find no land can ever vie
With bright Shiraz in purity ;
And blest for ever be the spot
Which makes all other climes forgot !
X'
I
I
3
v
A
GAZELS
GAZEL ON HIS LOVE
Sweet breeze ! her breath thy mur-
murs bear,
The perfume of her sigh is thine ;
But dare not play amidst her hair,
For every golden curl is mine !
O rose ! what radiant hues hast thou,
That in her face less brightly glow !
Her love is joy without regret,
While briars and thorns thy bloom
beset.
opening buds ! her cheeks more
fair,
For ever rosy blushing are.
Narcissus ! thou art pale of hue,
Her eyes that languish, sparkle too ;
1 tell thee, gently waving pine !
More graceful is her form than thine.
O my rapt soul ! if thou hadst power
To choose all blessings earth can give,
Is there a better, richer dower,
Than for her tenderness to live?
rs;
122 HAFIZ
Come, my sole love ! from those dear
Thy Hafiz is too long away ; [eyes
Come, give his heart the sweet
surprise,
Though 'twere but for a single day!
MYSTIC ODE
In wide Eternity's vast space,
Where no beginning was, wert
Thou :
The rays of all-pervading grace
Beneath Thy veil flamed on Thy
brow.
ThenLoveand Nature sprang to birth,
And Life and Beauty filled the earth.
Awake, my soul ! pour forth thy praise,
To that great Being anthems raise
That wondrous Architect who said,
' Be formed,' and this great orb was
made.
Since first I heard the blissful sound
'To man My Spirit's breath is given';
I knew, with thankfulness profound,
His sons we are our Home is
heaven.
GAZELS 123
Oh ! give me tidings that shall tell
When I may hope with Thee to dwell,
That I may quit this world of pain,
Nor seek to be its guest again.
A bird of holiness am I,
That from the vain world's net would
fly;
Shed, bounteous Lord, one cheering
shower
From Thy pure cloud of guiding
power,
Before, even yet, the hour is come,
When my dust rises towards its home.
What are our deeds? all worthless,
all-
Oh, bring Devotion's wine,
That strength upon my soul may fall
From drops Thou mad'st divine.
The world's possessions fade and flee,
The only good is loving Thee !
O happy hour ! when I shall rise
From earth's delusions to the skies,
Shall find my soul at rest, and greet
The traces of my loved one's feet :
124 HAFIZ
Dancing with joy, whirled on with
speed,
Like motes that gorgeous sunbeams
feed,
Until I reach the fountain bright
Whence yonder sun derives his
light.
The reputation of Hafiz has not suffered
from time, and he is still held in as much
esteem as Shakespeare with us. In an
amusing satire on the customs and manners A
of the women of Persia, called Kitabi Kul- ^ fa
stim Nane/t, which in its style is not unlike x L
the Sirventes of the Troubadours, are the ^
following passages illustrative of the delight
taken in the poet's verses :
' The women of Shiraz have remarkable ^
taste in minstrelsy, and are devoted to the ^ fa
memory of Hafiz.
' Every woman should be instructed in . A
the art of playing on the dyra, or tam-
bourine ; and she in turn must teach it to her
daughters, that their time may be passed
in joy and mirth ; and the songs of Hafiz,
above all others, must be remembered. If
it so happen that neither a dyra nulkadar
nor a sikdar is in the house, at any rate
A PERSIAN SONG OF HAFIZ 125
I
cf:
I
-I-
I
&
I
4-
I
c,
1
c:
there should be a Mm rf/'j^ and a mallet
for the purpose of producing music.'
The opinion of the learned Reviczki,
given by Sir William Jones, that Hafiz was
an esprit fort, and ridiculed the Koran and
the Prophets, is not generally entertained
in Persia, and his book is consulted in the
same manner as Virgil has often been.
Nadir Shah resolved on two famous sieges
in consequence of two verses which he found
on opening the volume of the poet's verses.
The famous Gazel of Hafiz, sung by every
nautch-girl throughout India, is Mutrihi
Khush :
' Mutriba Khush, his sweetest song.'
The most familiar lines are 'Taza be taza no
be no,' and the song is a peculiar favourite
with the English, being set to one of the
few pretty Eastern airs.
The beautiful poem of ' Sweet maid, if
thou wouldst charm my sight,' of Sir
William Jones, which begins
' Egher an turki Shirazi,'
is considered a model of beautiful com-
position.
126
HAFIZ
A PERSIAN SONG OF HAFIZ
Sweet maid, if thou wouldst charm
my sight,
And bid these arms thy neck infold ;
That rosy cheek, that lily hand,
Would give thy poet more delight
Than all Bocara's vaunted gold,
Than all the gems of Samarcand.
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 Rocnabad,
A bow'r so sweet as Mosellay.
Oh ! when these fair perfidious
maids,
Whose eyes our secret haunts infest,
Their dear destructive charms dis-
play,
Each glance my tender heart invades,
And robs my wounded soul of rest,
As Tartars seize their destined prey.
A PERSIAN SONG OF HAFIZ 127
In vain with love our bosoms
glow :
Can all our tears, can all our
sighs,
New lustre to those charms impart?
Can cheeks, where living roses blow,
Where Nature spreads her richest
dyes,
Require the borrowed gloss of art ?
Speak not of fate : ah ! change the
theme,
And talk of odours, talk of wine,
Talk of the flow'rs that round us
bloom:
'Tis all a cloud, 'tis all a dream ;
To love and joy thy thoughts confine,
Nor hope to pierce the sacred gloom.
Beauty has such resistless pow'r,
That ev'n the chaste Egyptian dame
Sighed for the blooming Hebrew
boy :
For her how fatal was the hour
When to the banks of Nilus came
A youth so lovely and so coy !
128
HAFIZ
But ah ! sweet maid, my counsel hear
(Youth should attend when those
advise
Whom long experience renders sage)'
While music charms the ravished
ear,
While sparkling cups delight our
eyes,
Be gay, and scorn the frowns of
age.'
What cruel answer have I heard ?
And yet, by Heav'n, I love thee still :
Can aught be cruel from thy lips ?
Yet say, how fell that bitter word
From lips which streams of sweetness
fill,
Which nought but drops of honey sip?
Go boldly forth, my simple lay,
Whose accents flow with artless ease,
Like orient pearls at random strung ;
Thy notes are sweet, the damsels say,
But oh ! far sweeter, if they please
The Nymph for whom these notes are
sung.
HE GREEN OLD MAN
The magic power possessed by Hafiz
over his readers is easily accounted for,
if the legend of his having quaffed of the
mysterious cup of immortality be believed.
The story, which is very poetical, runs
thus :
About four leagues from the city of Shiraz
is a place called Peri-sebz, or the ' Green
old Man,' and a popular superstition pre-
vailed that whoever watched there forty
nights without sleep would become a great
poet. Hafiz, when a youth, resolved to try
the adventure : he was at this time in love
with a beautiful ' fair one,' whose name of
Shakhi Nebat expressed 'a branch of sugar-
cane,' but he had a powerful rival in the
Prince of Shiraz. Like Ferhad, the lover
of Shireen, he however was not to be
daunted by the rank of him who pretended
to the smiles of his charming favourite.
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 to enter.
She received him with enthusiasm, declaring
1 3 o
HAFIZ
her preference of a bright genius to the son
of a king. On the approach of night he
hurried away, bent on finishing the ad-
venture. Early on the morning, after his
agitated fortieth night, the young poet
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 mantle ; 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 Hafiz, who, seizing it with avidity,
drank an inspiring draught, and found in it
the gift of immortal poesy.
JAMI
'THE favourite subject of the
Loves of Yussuf and Zuleika, which
"every Persian poet has touched with'
*more or less success, has never found one'
who so thoroughly entered into it, and
rendered it so beautiful, as Jami. He
entirely remodelled the poem of Ferdusi,
and gave it so many new graces that his
composition completely superseded that
of his master, and his name is always
132 JAMI
peculiarly associated with those of the
lovers whose ' well-sung woes ' he has so
eloquently sung.
Jami was born in Khorassan, at the village
of Jam, from whence he is named, his
proper appellation being Abd' Arahman.
He was a Sufi, and preferred, like many
of his fellow-poets, the meditations and
ecstasies of mysticism to the pleasures of
a court. He became, however, a friend of
princes.
One of the great aims of the philosophic
and benevolent Jami was to instruct and
improve his auditors ; and in order to do so
effectually, particularly as regarded the com-
mon people, he was accustomed to come
frequently to the great mosque of Herat,
and there converse familiarly with all whom
he met.
His eloquence was great, his manner per-
suasive, and his doctrine pure ; and like
St. Aldelm, the friend of King Athelstan,
he succeeded in attracting and riveting the
attention of his hearers.
Jami died in 1492, mourned by the whole
city of Herat: his funeral expenses were
defrayed by Sultan Hossein, and a magni-
ficent train of the most illustrious nobles
accompanied his body to the tomb ; ' and
when the customary rites had been per-
formed,' say the Persians, ' the earth, open-
THE POET'S FUNERAL
133
ing like a shell, received into its bosom this
pearl of inestimable price.' His funeral
oration was composed by his friend Ali-
Chyr, and delivered by a celebrated orator,
twenty days after his interment, in the pre-
sence of the sultan, the sheikhs, the doctors,
and an immense concourse of people. Ali-
Chyr laid the first stone of a monument
which he caused to be raised to his memory,
and his fame became immortal in the minds
of his countrymen.
His writings are very voluminous ; at
Oxford twenty-two volumes are preserved
of his works, of which he composed nearly
forty, all of great length. The greater part
treat of the theology of the Mussulmans, or
are written in the mystic style. He collected
the most interesting under the name of
Haft-Aurcnk, or 'The Seven Stars of the
Bear, or the Seven Brothers' ; and amongst
these is the famous poem of Yussuf and
Zuleika.
The tale extends in the original to four
thousand couplets. Sir William Jones pro-
nounces it to be ' the finest poem he ever
read' ; and nothing can exceed the admira-
tion which it inspires in the East. The
abridged version which is here offered may,
perhaps, convey some notion of its style,
though I offer rather an adaptation than a
translation.
134
JAMI
The name of the wife of Potiphar is not
mentioned in the Koran, but the poets have
given her the appellation of Zuleika, though
she is by some Arabian commentators called
Rahil. Her history, as given by her poetical
biographers, presents a very different picture
from that which we have been accustomed
to look on. Her love, disappointment,
weakness, despair, and final happiness,
form the features of a most exciting drama,
and one the most remarkable in Oriental
literature.
Zuleika, the daughter of Taimus, king of
Mauritania, beheld in a dream a figure of
such extraordinary beauty that she became
immediately enamoured of the glorious'
vision, and sunk into a deep melancholy,
fruitlessly longing for the unknown object.
This dream was three times repeated, and
the last time the beautiful apparition named
Egypt as the land of his abode. The state
of Zuleika's mind is thus described :
The ravens of the night were hushed,
The bird of dawn began his lay,
The rosebud, newly awakened,
blushed
To feel the touch of springing day,
And bade the roses round unveil,
Roused by the warbling nightingale.
135
The jasmine stood all bathed in dew ;
Wet were the violet's lids of blue.
Zuleika, fairer than the flowers,
Lay tranced for 'twas not sleep
that stole
Her senses, through the night's still
hours,
And raised new visions to her soul.
The heart unfettered, free to rove,
Turned towards the idol of her love.
No : 'twas not sleep, 'twas motion-
less,
Unbroken thought, repressed in
vain ;
The shadow of the day's distress,
A frenzy of remembered pain.
But, 'midst those pangs, what rapture-
still ;
The same dear form is ever there ;
Those eyes the rays of Eden fill,
And odours of the blest distil
From every curl of that bright
hair!
136 JAMI
His smiles ! such smiles as Houris
wear,
When from their caves of pearl
they come,
And bid the true believer share
The pleasures of their sacred home.
See, on his shoulder shines a star
That glows and dazzles as he
moves:
She feels its influence afar,
She gazes, worships, hopes and
loves !
At this period, while her mind is absorbed
by the one engrossing idea, an embassy
arrives in Mauritania from that very
country, Egypt, the land of all her hopes,
soliciting the hand of the princess for the
Asis, or grand vizir of Pharaoh, an offer
which she unhesitatingly accepts, being
secretly convinced that her visionary lover
and her proposed future husband are the
same. She accordingly departs for Egypt,
with a splendid and numerous retinue, and
makes a magnificent entry into Memphis,
under the escort of the Asis Potiphar, or
Kitfir, himself, who comes to meet his bride.
THE FATAL ERROR
137
Curious to discover his identity, she anxiously
seizes an opportunity of peeping through the
curtains of her litter, but is filled with grief
and dismay on finding a totally different
person from the lovely image of her dreams.
She thus exclaims, on hearing the ac-
clamations which announce the arrival of
the Asis, when hefirst comes to meet her,
before she has yet made the discovery fatal
to her peace :
O joy too great ! O hour too blest !
He comes they hail him now,
more near,
His eager courser's feet I hear.
heart ! be hushed within my breast,
Burst not with rapture ! Can it be ?
The idol of my life divine,
All radiant, clothed in mystery,
And loving me as I adore,
As none dared ever love before,
Shall be nay, is even now, is mine!
1 will be patient, but his breath
Seems stealing o'er my senses death
Were better than suspense like this
One draught though 'twere the last
of bliss !
it
M?>
*:<3
138 JAMI
One glance, though in that glance I
die,
To prove the glorious certainty !
Her horror and despair on finding how
much her fancy had deluded her knew no
bounds :
Not he ! not he ! on whom for years
My soul has dwelt with sacred
truth ;
For whom my life has passed in tears,
And wasted was my bloom of
youth ;
For whom I breathed, and thought,
and moved,
My own, my worshipped, my beloved !
I hailed the night, that I might gaze
Upon his star's unconquered blaze :
The morn but rose that I might pray,
Hope, wish, expect from day to day,
My sole existence was that thought,
And do I wake to know 'tis nought ?
Vain tears, vain madness, vain en-
deavour,
Another blasts my sight for ever !
~
THE BRIDE'S PROGRESS 139
In the meantime the unconscious bride-
groom, exulting in his happiness, conducts
the gorgeous train of attendants, with a
great display of pomp and riches, to usher
his bride of far-famed beauty into the city of
Memphis.
ZULEIKA'S ENTRANCE INTO MEMPHIS
Dawn upon the wide world broke,
And the sun's warm rays awoke ;
Scattering o'er the cloudy sky
Hues of rich variety :
Such bright tinting as illumes
With its rays the peacock's plumes,
And the parrot's' feathers bright,
Touches with a starry light.
The Asis rides in kingly guise ;
Yon curtained litter holds the prize
More precious than all wealth be-
side
His own, his young, his peerless bride.
Around, afar, of homage proud,
In countless ranks his warriors crowd,
Well may the lordly Asis boast
The glories of his gorgeous host.
k.
I 4 o JAM I
Rich are the veils, profusely spread,
That canopy the ' fair one's ' head ;
Like some delicious tree that throws
Its shade, inviting to repose :
And, like soft turf, the carpets lie,
Bedecked with gay embroidery.
The temple moves, all-glorious, on
Throned in the midst the 'happy one.'
All heaven resounds with shout and
song,
As the bright pageant sweeps along.
The camel-drivers' cries succeed,
Urging their stately beasts to speed.
Whose hoofs, with swift and frequent
tread,
The sands with moonlike forms have
spread :
The earth is ploughed by coursers'
feet,
And still fresh hosts the wounds re-
peat.
Many a fair and blushing maid
Exulted in the gay parade :
And all who called the Asis lord
Hailed the fair idol he adored.
THE BRIDE'S DESPAIR 141
But she' the beautiful,' 'the blest/-
What pangs, what tumults shook her
breast !
She sat, concealed from every eye,
Alone in hopeless misery.
' O Fate ! ' she cried ; ' O ruthless
Fate!
Why am I made thy mark of hate?
Why must my heart thy victim be ?
Thus lost, abandoned crushed by
thee!
Thou earnest, in troubled dreams, and
stole
The peace, the pleasure of my soul,
In visions that the blest might share,
Whose only fruit has been despair.
I see each glittering fabric fall ;
But vain reproach, vain trust, vain
all!
For help, for rest, where can I fly ?
My heart is riven^let me die !
Have I then lingered long in pain,
In sad suspense, in musings vain,
To be O crowning grief! betrayed,
In foreign lands a victim made ?
142 JAMI
Relentless destiny ! accurst
Were all the joys thy visions nurst.
Is there no drop of hope left yet ?
Must I all promises forget ?
Dash not my cup to earth : say, Power
benign,
I may be blest even yet he may be
mine ! '
In a similar strain to these upbraidings of
' the fair one ' is Timon's indignant address
to the Deity who persecutes him, as Lucian
records it.
' He besieges Jupiter with a storm of
epithets, and railing at the dotage into
which the god has fallen, and his imbecility
in permitting so much evil in the world.
He reminds him of the former times, in
which his lightning and thunders were
in constant occupation, etc. etc. He then
comes to his own particular case, and up-
braids the god for allowing him to be
treated with so much ingratitude.'
'Why,' continues Zuleika distractedly,
' hast thou thus cruelly robbed me of my
peace? What have I done to thee to be
thus treated ; it is folly indeed that I seek
help from thee. When souls melt, thou art
called upon for aid ; what is the melting of
thy soul ? '
c,
cU
'
~.
THE BRIDE'S DESPAIR 143
Thus raved Zuleika, when without
Arose the sudden deafening shout
"*
& That hailed the close of all their
toil-
' Lo ! Memphis ! and the banks of
ATM I >
Nile !
Ijs
,r. Then, far and wide, the glittering
ranks
Rush to the flowery river's banks.
**' The Asis' sign his slaves obey,
K Gold, silver, flowers, bestrew the way :
And o'er the litter gems are thrown,
Whose countless rays like meteors
shone ;
|k As thick they fall as on the rose
| Hang the rich dews atevening's close;
The courser's feet on rubies trod,
O'er mounds of gold the camel strode.
On swept the train one gorgeous
mile,
Planting with gems the banks of Nile ;
The proud stream rolled its waters
deep
O'er pearls in many a shining heap :
144 JAM I
Each shell was filled with pearls; each
scale
That clothed the crocodile in mail
Was changed to silver, as he lay
And basked amidst the fervid ray.
The original is slightly altered in the
above ; it runs in this curious strain :
' Thus, for a whole mile, the procession
moved on, scattering jewels on the banks of
the Nile ; the proud stream was filled with
imperial pearls ; every fish's ear was a pearl
shell, and so much silver was thrown in that
the crocodile became a silver-scaled fish?
And onward to the palace gate
The train poured on, in sumptuous
state ;
The glowing portals opened wide,
In flowed the overwhelming tide,
Ushering the Asis and his bride.
A throne the Peris might have framed,
The sun and moon's pale lustre
shamed :
And she, whose radiance all effaced
Zuleika on the throne was placed.
THE PROCESSION 145
Sparkling with jewels, red with gold,
Her heart shrunk, withered, crushed,
and cold ;
Although a feverish sense of pain
Frenzied her mind and scared her
brain :
As on a flaming hearth she sat
Amidst rejoicing desolate !
Laden with many a priceless gem,
Crowned with a gorgeous diadem,
Each pearl a poisonous drop appears:
And from her eyes fall scalding tears.
And thus a crown is gained for this,
We leave all thoughts of present bliss !
We toil, we strive, we live in care,
And in the end possess despair !
Our sun of youth, of hope, is set,
And all our guerdon is regret !
This profusion at the marriage of persons
of consequence is by no means unusual in
the East. It is related that Mahadie, the
son of El Mansor, the founder of Bagdad, in
his pilgrimages, expended enormous sums ;
in one alone he is said to have disbursed six
million dinars of gold. He founded cisterns
JAM I
9v^
and caravanseras, and distributed them along
a measured road of seven hundred miles.
His train of camels, laden with snow, was
prodigious ; this was a luxury intended to
refresh the fruits and liquors of the royal
banquet. He gave away four-fifths of the
income of a province before he drew his
foot from the stirrup. At his nuptials a
thousand pearls of the largest size were
showered on the head of the bride, and a
lottery was made of lands and houses.
The poem now pursues the scriptural
account of the life of Yussuf, whose super-
natural beauty is, however, described as
being the especial gift of God, and recorded
to have been so great, that no woman could
look on him without love. Zuleika, there-
fore, only shared the fate of all her sex.
Some writers say the ladies who clamoured
so much against her for her passion were,
when he first entered the chamber where
they were all assembled, in the act of cutting
pomegranates, some say oranges, and in
their admiration and amazement cut their
fingers instead of the fruit. This adventure
is frequently represented in Persian MSS.
see several in the British Museum, and
Bib. du Roi, Paris. Joseph is considered
the emblem of divine perfection, and Zu-
leika's love is the image of the love of the
creature towards the Creator : some go so
THE POMEGRANATES
147
far as to say that we ought to follow her
example, and should permit the beauty of
God to transport us out of ourselves. The
rapid change from prison to high estate of
Yussuf (or Joseph) they consider a type of
the impatience of the soul to burst its fetters
and join its Creator. His great charity is
constantly spoken of. Sadi praises him for
this in his Gulistdn, and relates that during
the seven years' famine in Egypt, Yussuf
deprived himself, every day, of a portion of
his food, to give to the sufferers : this trait
is often mentioned by Eastern writers.
Yussuf was always surrounded with a
celestial light, typical of the moral beauty
and wisdom which adorned his mind.
He is sold as a slave, and Zuleika be-
comes his purchaser, to the great rage and
envy of all her rivals, amongst whom was
included the Princess Nasigha, of the race
of Aad. The beautiful Yussuf now enters
her service, and, at his own desire, a flock
of sheep are given to his special keeping,
his admiring mistress wishing, by every
indulgence, to attach him to her.
The nurse of Zuleika is the confidante of
the passion which she cannot control, and
which, at length, in an imprudent moment,
she discloses to its object himself.
The poet represents Yussuf as less in-
sensible to her regard than we are informed
I 4 8
JAMI
by Scripture that he really was ; and it
became necessary that a miracle should be
performed, in order to deliver him from the
temptations with which he is surrounded,
and which are nearly overcoming his resolu-
tion. His father, Jacob, or the angel
Gabriel in his likeness, appears, to warn
him of his danger, and he flies, leaving his
mistress in an agony of despair, rage, and
grief. She thus exclaims :
Is this a dream ? another dream,
Like that which stole my senses first,
Which sparkled o'er my life's dull
stream,
By idle, erring fancy nursed ?
Was it for this my life I spent
In murmurs deep, and discontent
Slighted, for this, all homage due,
From gen'rous, faithful love withdrew?
For this, no joy, no pomp have prized ;
For this, all honours have despised
Left all my soul, to passion free,
To be thus hated spurned by thee?
O God! to see thee loathing turn,
While on my check swift blushes
burn;
THE REPULSE OF ZULEIKA 149
Contempt, abhorrence on thy brow,
Where radiant sweetness dwelt till
now !
Thy bitter accents, fierce, severe,
In harsh, unwonted tones to hear:
Thy horror, thy disgust to view,
And know thy accusations true!
All, all but this I could have borne,
A husband's vengeance and his scorn ;
To be reproached, disgraced, reviled,
So Yussuf on his victim smiled.
I would, amidst the desert's gloom,
Have hailed, with thee, a living tomb;
My home, my state, my birth forgot,
And, with thy love, embraced thy lot ;
Had taught my heart all pangs to
share,
And prove what perfect love can dare.
Let me look back to that dark hour
That bound my spirit to thy power
Thy grateful words, thy glance recall,
My hopes, my love and curse them
all;
Let me thy tender looks retrace,
The glories of thy heavenly face ;
JAMI
Thy brow, where Aden's splendour
And the mild lustre of thine eyes :
Yet, let my heart no weakness prove,
But hate thee as I once could love.
- What fearful eloquence was thine,
What awful anger just divine !
Shuddering, I saw my heart displayed,
And knew all this / should have
said !
'Twas mine to shrink, withstand, in
time,
For, while I sinned, I knew my crime.
O wretched, wavering heart! as
vain
Thy wild resentment as thy pain :
One thought alone expels the rest,
One sole regret distracts my breast,
O'ermastering and subduing all
More than my crime, more than my
fall:
Are not shame, fear, remorse, forgot,
In that one thought he loves me '\
not?
YUSSUF A PRISONER 151
The regrets of his unfortunate mistress
follow the pure-minded Yussuf to his gloomy
prison, where she pictures his sufferings
incurred for her crime, and thus laments,
and strives to derive comfort from reflec-
tion:
Though in a dark and narrow cell
The ' fair beloved ' confined may
dwell,
No prison is that dismal place,
'Tis filled with dignity and grace :
And the damp vaults and gloom
around
Are joyous spring,with roses crowned.
Not Paradise to me were fair
If he were not a dweller there ;
Without his presence all is night,
My soul awakes but in his sight :
Though this frail tenement of clay
May here amidst its pomp re-
main,
My spirit wanders far away,
And dwells with his in prisoned
pain.
There is now but little variation from the
scriptural relations, and Yussuf becomes
grand vizir of Egypt, governing with wisdom
and skill. Zuleika finds herself a widow :
her hopes are renewed, and she is no longer
under the necessity of suppressing her
affection. She causes a house to be built
opposite the residence of the object of her
devotion, in order that she may behold him
day by day, and hear the sound of his horse's
feet as he passes.
Inspired by love, Zuleika at length re-
nounces idolatry, and her lover hails her as
a convert to the religion of the only true
God. She presents herself as a believer
before Yussuf, and is rewarded by the return
of her early youth and beauty, at his prayer;
for he now sees no obstacle to his love, and.
at once acknowledges it, and returns the
passion which had been before so fatal to
them both.
YUSSUF'S ACKNOWLEDGMENT
Not love thee ! ah ! how much I
loved
Long absent years of grief have
proved.
Severe rebuke, assumed disdain,
Dwelt in my words and looks in vain:
I would not passion's victim be,
And turned from sin but not from
thee.
My love was pure, no plant of earth
From my rapt being sprung to birth:
I loved as angels might adore,
And sought, and wished, and hoped
no more.
Virtue was my belov'd : and thou
Hadst virtue's impress on thy brow.
Thy weakness showed how frail is all
That erring mortals goodness call.
154 JAMI
I thanked thee, and reproached thee
not
For all the sufferings of my lot.
The God we worship was my friend,
And led me to my destined end,
Taught the great lesson to thy heart
That vice and bliss are wide apart :
And joined us now, that we may prove
With perfect virtue, perfect love.
Nothing now disturbs the tranquillity of
their loves, and they live for many years
united, until at length Yussuf dies, and his
faithful and tender Zuleika, unable to survive
his loss, follows him to the tomb. The
poem concludes with moral reflections, and
an address from the poet to his son.
ABD'ALLAH, surnamed Hatifi, was
born at Jam, in Khorassan. He was
nephew to the great poet Jami, with
whom he lived on more amicable
terms than could naturally be ex-
pected between rival poets, both so
156 HATIFI
highly distinguished. The ambition of
Hatifi was to enter the lists with his uncle,
by composing five poems, on the same or
similar subjects, with the Khamsah, of that
illustrious son of song. Opinions are divided
as to whether he succeeded as well as his
master, but his sweetness and pathos are
unequalled.
However beautiful may be Nizami's ex-
quisite version of the favourite story of
Mejnoun and Leila, that of Hatifi is con-
fessedly superior. Hatifi died in A.D. 1520,
and was buried in the village of Gardschard.
When he was beginning his great poem,
he begged his uncle to write the first line
for him ; which he did, and it contained
a prophecy of his nephew's future fame.
Hatifi's works are Khosrii and Shireen ;
Heft Manseer ; Mejnoun and Leila ;
and the Timtir Namah, or Victories of
Timfir.
The subject of the tale of Mejnoun and
Leila is extremely simple, and it is said to
be founded on fact; it is, in fact, but a re-
petition of the oft-repeated truth that
' The course of true love never did run smooth.'
Kais was the son of an Arabian chief,
handsome, amiable, and accomplished be-
yond all his contemporaries. A fine poet,
as the fragments of his verse still repeated
v
:
fll
MEJN(JN AND LEILA
with enthusiasm by the Arabs of
prove.
Leila was the daughter of a neighbouring
chief. She was equally accomplished with
her lover : and nothing seemed likely to
disturb the happiness which their permitted
attachment promised, till the avarice of her
father destroyed at once all their hopes.
Leila was commanded to think of Kais no
more, as she was destined to be the bride of
one more rich and powerful ; and, in spite
of the grief and remonstrances of the un-
fortunate pair, they were separated. Kais
became insane from disappointment, and
his name was, therefore, changed to Mejnun
(the distracted). Death at length put a
period to his miseries, and his faithful
mistress soon followed him, leaving her
cruel parent to his late and vain remorse,
and the memory of these victims of avarice
to eternal honour and regret.
There are two beautiful expressive couplets
by the Moollah of Rum, characteristic of
Eastern brevity and simplicity.
The Khalifah said to Leila, 'Art thou
the damsel for whom the lost Mejnun is
become a wanderer in the desert ? Thou
surpasses! not other girls in beauty.' Leila
answered ' Be silent : for thou art not
Mejnun ! '
BU
THE MEETING IN THE DESERT
FROM THE POEM OF 'MEJNUN AND LEILA'
Even like the roaming moon, along
The dreary path fair Leila strayed,
Till, worn and spent the wilds among,
Deep sleep o'erpowered the lovely
maid :
And from her hand the bridle's check
Fell on the patient camel's neck.
The guides were far, and dark the
night,
The weary camel stopped to graze,
The caravan was hid from sight
Then lost amidst the desert's maze.
Unconscious still, she wandered on,
And woke untended and alone !
The Rose was severed from the plain,
Nor friends nor strangers now in-
trude:
On through the waste she speeds
amain,
But all is trackless solitude.
THE MEETING 159
From spot to spot with anxious fear,
She hastes, she calls, but none can
hear !
When, from a wild and gloomy height,
A dusky form rushed forth to sight.
No terror seized the maiden's heart
A thought sprung there which
chilled her dread,
For in that waste, from man apart,
A life of pain her Kai's led.
Might not this stranger know his state,
And give her tidings of his fate?
So wasted, worn, and changed with
care,
His mind a void, himself forgot,
The hapless victim of despair
Even she, the True One, knew him
not!
' Whence com'st thou ? ' Leila said ;
' and why [roam ?
Amidst these deserts dost thou
Tell me thy name what destiny
Has lured thee from thy friends
and home?'
T#ii?r,M
-IS*
160 HATIFI
The grief-struck youth, unconscious
grown,
Knew not his Leila's gentle tone:
' Seek'st thou to know what slave
am I,
For ever doomed a wretch to rove ?
Tis Kai's, spent with misery
'Tis hapless Mejnoon, mad for love ! '
The maiden with a sudden bound
Sprang from her camel to the ground :
'Ah! wretched one! too fondly dear,
A voice, long mute, let Kai's hear ;
Thy saviour let thy Leila be
Look up 'tis Leila I am she ! '
His mind awoke. One moment's
gaze,
One cry of startled, wild amaze !
Though years of madness, grief, and
pain,
Had held him in their galling chain,
That magic name has broke the
spell,
And prone to earth lost Mejnoon
fell.
~-
f
I
I
(f
1
^
~
THE MEETING
161
Scarce less with woe distraught, the
maid
Sat on the ground, his form be-
side :
His head, which in the dust was
laid,
M (
Upon her knees she drew, and
dried
xk His tears with tender hand, and
prest
'** Him close and closer to her breast :
S?>: ' Be here thy home, beloved, adored,
Revive, be blest O Leila's lord ! '
At length he breathed around he
gazed
As from her arms his head he
raised.
' Art thou,' he faintly said, 'a friend
Who takes me to her gentle breast?
rW, Dost thou, in truth, so fondly
^ bend
Thine eyes upon a wretch distrest?
Are these thy unveiled cheeks I
see
Can bliss be yet in store for me ?
162 HATIFI
I thought it all a dream, so oft
Such dreams come in my madness
now.
Is this thy hand, so fair and soft?
Is this, in sooth, my Leila's brow ?
In sleep these transports I may
share,
But when I wake 'tis all despair !
Let me gaze on thee if it be
An empty shade alone I see ;
How shall I bear what once I bore
When thou shalt vanish as before ? '
Then Leila spoke, with smiles all
light :
' To hope, dear wanderer, revive ;
Lo! Zemzem's waters cool and bright
Flow at thy feet then drink and
live.
Seared heart ! be glad, for bounteous
Heaven
At length our recompense hath given.
Belov'd one ! tell me all thy will,
And know thy Leila faithful still
THE REPLY 163
Here in this desert join our hands,
Our souls were joined long, long
before ;
And, if our fate such doom demands,
Together wander evermore.
O Kai's ! never let us part ;
What is the world to thee and me ?
My universe is where thou art,
And is not Leila all to thee?'
He clasped her to his aching breast,
One long, sad, tender look he cast ;
Then with deep woe, in vain re-
prest,
Kissed her fair brow, and spoke at
last :
' How well, how fatally I love,
My madness and my misery prove.
All earthly hopes I could resign
Nay, life itself, to call thee mine.
But shall I make thy spotless name,
That sacred spell, a word of shame ?
Shall selfish Mejnoon's heart be
blest,
And Leila prove the Arab's jest?
1 64 HATIFI
The city's gates
close,
We cannot still the tongues of foes.
No ; we have met a moment's
bliss
Has dawned upon my gloom in
vain !
Life yields no more a joy like this,
And all to come can be but pain.
Thou, thou adored ! might be my
own,
A thousand deaths let Mejnoon die
Ere but a breath by slander blown
Should sully Leila's purity !
Go, then see where thy tribe return,
Fly from my arms that clasp thee
yet:
I feel my brain with frenzy burn
O transport ! could I thus forget ! '
The frantic lover fled while near
The tramp of steeds can Leila
hear:
Senseless, her mind with anguish
torn,
Fair Leila to her tents is borne.
THE DISTRACTION 165
For many a night and many a day
The dark waste saw lost Mejnoon
stray :
Bleeding and faint, 'twixt death and
life,
Waging with fate unequal strife.
Wild on the blast his words were
flung,
Wild to the winds his songs were
sung.
The shudd'ring pilgrim, passing by,
Paused as he heard the maniac's
cry,
Nor dared upon his lair intrude,
As thus he raved in solitude :
' How can I live where thou art
not?
In dreams I trace thy image
still!
I see thee, and I curse my lot ;
I wake and all is chill.
The desert's faithless waters spread
A snare to lure me on :
My thirsty soul is vainly led ;
I stoop the wave is gone !
166 HATIFI
The fevered thoughts that on me
prey,
Death's sea alone can sweep away.
I found the bird of Paradise,
That long I sought with care ;
Fate snatched it from my longing
eyes,
I held despair !
Though Khizzer, girt with mystic
spell,
Had seemed to be my guide,
Scarce had I reached the blessed well,
Its source was dried !
Wail, Leila, wail, our fortunes crost !
Weep, Mejnoon, weep for ever
lost ! '
SCHEIK FEIZI
IT was said of the great historian Abul
Fazil, that the monarchs of Asia stood more
in awe of his pen, than of the sword of
Akbar. His brother, Feizi, possessed the
gift of poesy in a high degree, and his com-
positions are highly valued. His Divan
consists, like all the greater Divans, or col-
lections of lyric poetry, of two principal
divisions, namely, of Kassideh, or the longer
elegiac poems, and of Gazelles, sometimes
on love, and sometimes on mystic subjects.
He mentions himself one which consists of
eighteen thousand lines.
The praise of the Shah, Akbar, or Great,
chiefly engaged his muse ; and the monarch
certainly merited the name more than any
other Indian emperor whose history is re-
corded. His lighter pieces were such as are
called Musk-gazelles, breathing sweetness,
and filled with pleasurable ideas, presenting
life as a scene of sunshine and summer,
where storm and winter are unknown.
In the mystic poems, however, of this
i68
SCHEIK FEIZI
author, he approaches nearer to the sub-
limity of Attar and the great Moollah than
any other of their followers ; his ideas are
tinged with the colour of the Indian belief
in which he was brought up. The most re-
markable of this collection is called Serre,
or Atoms in the Sun, written in a thousand
and one verses (the favourite number in
the East) : it is partly mystical, and partly
philosophical. The title he has chosen is
a portion of the mystery which envelops the
meaning, and which a Mussulman conceives
it proper should always surround divine
things. In the part devoted to philosophy,
the work treats of the course of the sun
through the Zodiac : Brahminical theology '
is mixed together with the ancient Persian
and Indian fire-worship in this singular
composition.
The story of Feizi's early life is romantic.
He was introduced, when a boy, to the
Brahmins, by Sultan Mohammed Akbar,
as an orphan of their tribe, in order that
he might learn their language, and obtain
possession of their secrets. Feizi became
attached to the daughter of the Brahmin who
protected him, and she was offered to him
in marriage by the unsuspecting father.
After a struggle between honour and incli-
nation, the former prevailed, and he con-
fessed to the Brahmin the fraud that had
SULTAN AKBAR 169
been practised, who, struck with horror,
attempted to put an end to his own exist-
ence, fearing that he had betrayed his trust,
and brought danger and disgrace on his
sect.
Feizi, with tears and protestations, en-
treated him to forbear, promising to submit
to any command he might impose on him.
The Brahmin consented to live, on condi-
tion that Feizi took an oath never to trans-
late the Vedas, nor repeat to any one the
creed of the Hindoos.
Feizi, having entered into the desired
obligations, parted with his adopted father,
bade adieu to his love, and with a sinking
heart returned to the sultan. Akbar was'
greatly mortified to find his scheme had so
signally failed, but he was much touched
with the story related to him by the young
poet ; and, respecting his oath, he forbore
to insist on his translating the sacred books,
though that was the great object to which
he had devoted all his wishes.
The Sultan Akbar was a liberal thinker,
and an enlightened searcher after truth, but
he gave much offence to his Mohammedan
subjects by the favour he showed to the
Hindoos.
Feizi composed a work called the Maha-
dari/, which contains the chronicles of the
Hindoo princes. From this Ferishta drew
170
SCHEIK FEIZI
largely, in his celebrated history, and
amongst the most romantic episodes which
he relates is the account of the family of
Khaja Aiass. The events occurred about
1606.
Khaja Aiass was a native of Western
Tartary, and left his country to try his
fortune in Hindostan. He was young and
full of hope, but the prospects he had
before him were far from encouraging, for
he was poor, and his friends were few ; he
was accompanied in his expedition by a
young wife, who expected soon to become
a mother, and was little able to bear the
fatigues of their journey. In fact, as they
were crossing the desert, hunger, anxiety,
and over-exertion overcame her, and she
sank exhausted by the way. In this lament-
able condition Khaja Aiass found himself
the father of a daughter, born under cir-
cumstances the most distressing. Their
sufferings and adventures in the desert
were very great, but at length they reached
Lahore, where the Sultan Akbar kept his
court. Asiph Khan, one of his principal
ministers, was a relation of Aiass, and
received him with great kindness ; and,
from one situation of trust to another, he,
who had begun his career in so untoward
a manner, became in the space of a few
years, high-treasurer of the empire.
MEHR-EL-NISSAR
171
His daughter, born in the desert, was
called Mehr-el-Nissar, or the 'Sun of
Women.' As she grew up, she excelled all
the ladies of the East in beauty, learning,
and accomplishments. She was educated
with the greatest care, and her genius and
acquirements soon became the theme of
general conversation. She was witty,
satirical, ambitious, lofty, and her spirit
beyond control. It happened, on one
occasion, that Selim, the prince - royal,
came to visit her father. When the public
entertainment was over, and all but the
principal guests were withdrawn, and the
wine brought, the ladies, according to cus-
tom, were introduced in their veils. Mehr-
el-Nissar had resolved to make a conquest
of the prince ; she therefore exerted all
her powers of pleasing, and entirely suc-
ceeded in her design. Her dancing and
singing enraptured him ; and at length,
when, as if by accident, she dropped her
veil and disclosed her extraordinary beauty,
his heart became completely her own.
Selim, distracted with love, applied to his
father, the sultan, to assist him ; but Akbar,
aware that the hand of the dangerous beauty
was already disposed of, refused to commit
an act of tyranny, and in despite of the en-
treaties and despair of the prince, Mehr-el-
Nissar became the wife of her father's
SCHEIK FEIZI
choice, Sheer Afkun, a Turcomanian noble-
man of high lineage and great renown.
The bridegroom shortly after, disgusted
with the insults and annoyances which he
met with from Prince Selim, left the court
of Agra, and retired with his wife to Bengal,
where he became governor of the province
of Burdwan.
When Selim succeeded his father, he
recalled Sheer ; but he dared not so far
outrage public opinion as to deprive the
illustrious omrah of his wife. Sheer was
a man of exalted feeling, and very popular :
his strength and valour rendered him re-
markable, and his good qualities endeared
him to the people. He had spent his youth
in Persia, and had served, with extra-
ordinary renown, Shah Ismael, the chief of
the Suvi line. His original name was Asta
Fillo, but, having killed a lion, he was
dignified with the title of Sheer Afkun,
' Destroyer of the Lion,' and by that de-
signation became celebrated throughout
India. He served in the wars of Akbar with
extraordinary reputation, and at the taking
of Scinde displayed prodigies of valour.
Selim, now called Jehangire, kept his
court at Delhi when Sheer returned. The
husband vainly hoped that time had effaced
the memory of Mehr-el-Nissa from the
monarch's mind ; and, being of a noble
SHEER'S DEATH
173
and trusting disposition, he suspected no
treachery. Jehangire had, however, resolved,
if possible, to rid himself of his rival.
On one occasion, when they were hunting,
he caused him to be exposed to a tiger.
Sheer defended himself against the beast in
a manner described as perfectly miraculous,
without weapons, like a knight of romance,
and killed his antagonist. The sultan, un-
moved by his valour, next laid a plot to
have him trodden to death by an elephant,
but he again escaped, having attacked the
raging animal and cut off its trunk.
His house was, after this, beset by assas-
sins, and he was in great peril, but once
more succeeded in foiling his assailants.
His valour and resolution were no match for
the treachery of his powerful foe, and, in
the end, the heroic Sheer fell a victim to
the persevering cruelty of his rival : he was
drawn into an ambush, and fell, after a fear-
ful struggle, pierced with six balls, having
killed several of his murderers in the con-
flict.
Mehr-el-Nissar was now free, and her
conduct gave cause of suspicion that her
grief was not extreme. She gave out that
her husband, being aware of the sultan's
attachment to her, had commanded that, in
case of his death, she should not long re-
sist his wishes, but surrender herself to him
; v *
174
SCHEIK FEIZI
i
immediately. She was accordingly conveyed,
with great care, from Burdwan, where the
unfortunate Sheer had, not long before his
death, retired, hoping to live with her in
peace ; and the fair cause of so much mis-
chief was taken to Delhi, to the Sultana-
Mother, who received her with every demon-
stration of respect and affection.
An unforeseen disappointment, however,
awaited the beautiful Mehr-el-Nissar :
whether actuated by remorse or caprice,
Jehangire, now that no impediment was in
the way of his happiness, refused to see
her ; and she was shut up in one of the
worst apartments of his seraglio, where four
years were passed by the neglected beauty
in such poverty and necessity, that, in order
to support herself, she was obliged to employ
her talent in various works, which were so
exquisite that she obtained a quick sale for
them amongst the ladies of Delhi and Agra.
By this means she was enabled to repair
and beautify her apartments ; and she then
clothed her attendants in the richest manner,
retaining, however, herself, the simplest
dress she could devise.
Curiosity, at length, subdued the moody
resolve of the sultan ; and he determined to
see the singular woman, who, under what-
ever circumstances she appeared, com-
manded attention. He visited her apart-
"
?
SELIM'S VISIT
ments, where all he saw delighted him but
Mehr-el-Nissar most. He inquired why she
made so remarkable a difference between
the dress of her slaves and her own ; to
which question she replied, 'Those born to
servitude must dress as it pleases those
whom they serve. These are my servants ;
I alleviate their bondage by every means in
my power ; but I, that am your slave, O
Emperor of the Moghuls ! must dress
according to your pleasure, not my own.'
Charmed with the spirit of this answer,
Jehangire at once forgot all his coldness ;
his former tenderness returned in all its
depth, and he resolved to compensate his
indifference to the lovely widow by loading
her with riches and pomp. The very next
day after their tardy interview, a magnificent
festival was prepared to celebrate their
nuptials. Her name was changed by an
edict into Nur-ma-hal, the 'Light of the
Harem.' All his former favourites vanished
before her, and during the remainder of the
reign of Jehangire she bore the chief sway
in all the affairs of the empire. She advanced
all her family to the highest posts ; her
numerous relatives poured in from Tartary
on hearing of the prosperity of the house of
Aiass. Her father, worthy as he was great,
sustained his rank with virtue and dignity ;
her brothers, also, acquitted themselves, in
their several governments, much to the
satisfaction of all parties, and no family ever
rose so rapidly, or so deservedly, to honour,
rank, and eminence as that of Khaja Aiass
and his ' Desert Born.'
THE DESERT BORN
Day fades amidst the mighty solitude,
The sun goes down and leaves no
hope behind ;
Afar is heard the ravening cry, for
food,
Of savage monsters ; and the sultry
wind
Sears with its furnace-breath, but
freshens not,
With one reviving sigh, the dismal
spot
Where three devoted beings panting
lie,
Prone on the scorching ground, as
if to die
Were all of good could reach their
helpless state,
Abandoned, 'midst the trackless
sands, to Fate !
Gls)
w,
AI ASS'S DESPAIR 177
And does young Aiass yield to
fortune's frown ?
Are all his high aspirings come to
this?
His haughty bearing to the dust
bowed down,
His glorious visions of success and
bliss
The dreams that led him from his
Tartar home,
To seek, in golden Hindostan, re-
nown
Is this the end of all ? Lost, over-
come,
By famine and fatigue subdued, at
last-
Patience and firmness hope and
valour past !
& He cried ( O Allah! when the
Patriarch's child [lay,
v , Forlorn beside his fainting mother
Amidst the howling desert dark and
wild,
When not a star arose to cheer her
way,
-\-^?,J )~~ i - k. ~K '^ J /r~ jt
178 SCHEIK FEIZI
Heard she not Zemzem's murmuring
waters nigh,
And the blest angel's voice that said
they should not die?
But I look on my new-born child
look there !
On my young wife what can I but
despair?
She left her tents for me abandoned
all
The wealth, the state her beauty well
might claim :
Alas ! the guerdon of her truth, how
small
Alas! what had I, but a soldier's name,
A sword a steed, my faithful, faint-
ing one,
Whose course is, like his master's,
almost done.
I led her here to die to die ! when
earth
Has lands so beautiful, and scenes so
fair,
Cities and realms, and mines of
countless worth ;
m
HIS LAMENT 179
Monarchs with proud sultanas all
their care,
And none with Zarah worthy to com-
pare !
Yet here she lies a broken cloud !
this gem,
Fit for the first in India's diadem !
Oh, she was like that tree, all purity,
Which, ere the hand of man approach
the bough,
No bird or creeping insect suffers nigh,
Nor shelter to aught evil will allow ;
But once the fruit is plucked, there
ends the charm
Dark birds and baneful creatures
round it swarm.
Thou selfish Aiass, hast destroyed
the tree,
Behold its lovely blossoms scathed
by thee !
Is there no hope? revive, my noble
steed,
Fail not thy masterat his utmost need;
Thou canst, thou wilt, support her
gentle weight :
i8o SCHEIK FEIZI
Courage ! thou vvert not wont to
deem it great.
A little further yet one effort more
And, if we perish then, our miseries
are o'er.'
'But, oh! my child!' the fainting
mother cried,
' My arms are feeble, and support her
not.
And thou, lost Aiass, death is in thy
face:
Why should we strive to quit this
hideous place?
My babe and I can perish by thy
side
Oh ! let our graves be in this fatal spot.'
She spoke, and prostrate fell. With
nerveless hands
Her form sad Aiass on his steed has
cast,
Which, trembling with that lifeless
being, stands
His struggling breath comes heavily
and fast.
i
THE TASK 181
A task, a fearful task, must yet be
done,
Ere he the Desert's path shall dare
explore,
His babe must sleep beneath yon
tree alone !
No parent's kiss shall ever wake her -v
more.
Some leaves he plucked, the only ^
leaves that grew
Upon that mound, so parched and
desolate,
These o'er the sleeping innocent he
threw
Looked not nor turned and left
her to her fate.
' My babe ! thou wert a pearl too
bright
For pitiless earth's unfriendly slight.
He who first called thee forth again
Shall place thee in thy parent shell :
There shalt thou slumber, free from
pain,
While guardian Peris watch thee well.
'
T 82
SCHEIK FEIZI
Within our hearts, two living urns,
Shall live thy memory blessed one !
As the white water-lily turns
Her silver petals to the moon ;
Though distance must their loves
divide,
And but his image gilds the tide.'
THE MOTHER
Oh, who shall tell what horror, what
dismay,
Flashed wildly from lost Zarah's
haggard eye,
When, toiling slowly on their devious
way,
Her sense returned, and lo ! her
arms no more
She found, with straining clasp, her
infant bore !
She shrieked O God ! that cry of
agony
Will Aiass hear for ever. Hark ! it
rings
Like the death trump, and by its
fearful spell
THE MOTHER'S MUSINGS 183
Back all his strength and wasted
vigour brings :
He feels unnatural force returning,
swell
In all his veins his blood is flame :
that shriek
Resounds again, far through the
Desert borne.
What need" of words the fatal truth
to speak ?
What need of questions? is she not
forlorn [away,
Is not a branch torn from the tree
And will it not even where it stands
decay ?
Oh ! she had in those few brief hours
Her Desert-born had seen of light,
Gazed in its face, and thought the
flowers
Of Eden clustered rich and bright
In glory round its radiant brow !
That all Al Jannat's gems were hid
Beneath that pure and snowy lid.
Where were those heavenly glances
now?
184 SCHEIK FEIZI
Oh ! as she feebly knelt beside
Its rugged couch, her tears would
start,
Lest aught of evil should betide
The cherished idol of her heart.
She traced the father's features there,
In that small tablet, pure and fair,
Exulting in a mother's name :
And, in her daughter, nursed the
flame
That burned, divided, yet the same.
And has she lost that blessed one?
How lost ? starved left to beasts a
prey!
Was deed so fell by Aiass done
Her own beloved, her hope, her stay ?
Has misery changed her heart to
stone?
' My child ! my child ! ' she shrieks :
the Desert wild
Returned in hollow yells ' Give back
my child ! '
THE RESCUED CHILD
185
THE BLACK SNAKE
With flashing eye and rapid pace,
Of hope, of fear, alike bereft,
Flies Aiass, guided by the trace
His courser's tottering steps had left
Along the deep and sandy way,
Back where his poor deserted infant
lay.
Beneath a tree, the single one
That in the Desert sprang alone
Like latent hope, that, struggling, will
Live in the tortured bosom still
Slumbering and peaceful lay the
child ;
A faint^ and tender roseate streak
Had dawned along its hollow cheek,
And in unconscious dreaming bliss
it smiled.
But coiled around it peering in
To the closed eyes and tranquil face,
Winding its dark rings on the ivory
skin,
1 86 SCHEIK FEIZI
A black snake holds it in his fell
embrace ;
His forked tongue and fiery eyes
reveal,
The helpless infant's fate one moment
more shall seal !
With frantic shout the father onward
sprung,
While yet the serpent to his victim
clung;
The monster, startled from his prey,
Quelled by a human glance, relaxed
his hold,
With sudden bound unloosed each
slimy fold,
And 'midst the rocky billows slunk
away.
One frenzied spring and to his
panting breast
Aiass his wakened, rescued treasure
prest.
With step, than antelope's less fleet,
The happy father fled away,
And where his weeping Zarah lay,
Cast his loved burden at her feet.
THE CARAVAN 187
His brain reels round, his short-lived
vigour flies ;
Prostrate he falls, and darkness veils
his eyes.
--
THE CARAVAN
Oh, wild is the waste where the
caravan roves,
And many the danger the traveller
proves ;
But the star of the morning shall
beckon him on,
And blissful the guerdon his patience
has won ;
Nor water, nor milk, nor fresh dates
shall he need,
No loss has he met of good camel or
steed,
He looks o'er the sands as a road to
renown,
For the hills in the distance his
labour shall crown :
He sings of Shiraz, and her generous
wine,
And pours to the prophet libations
J/\ divine ;
The numbers of Hafiz awake in his
song,
And who shall declare that the poet
is wrong?
GAZEL
To-day is given to pleasure,
It is the feast of spring ;
And earth has not a treasure
Our fortune shall not bring.
Fair moon ! the bride of heaven con-
fest,
Whose light has dimmed each
star,
Show not thy bright face in the
East,
My love's outshines it far.
Why sighs the lonely nightingale,
Ere day's first beams appear?
She murmurs forth her plaintive tale,
For coming Spring to hear.
I
Ir
V
THE REPOSING MERCHANTS 189
ye severely wise,
To-day your counsels spare ;
Your frown in vain denies
The wine-cup and the fair.
Within our haunts of bliss
The dervish may be seen,
Whose seat, till days like this,
Within the mosque has been.
1 care not but the truth declare,
That Hafiz fills again :
His eyes are on his charming fair,
His lips the wine-cup drain.
'Twas near a fountain's brink a group
reclined,
Where waters sported with the morn-
ing wind,
Trees threw their shadows broad and
deep around,
And grass, like emeralds, freshened
all the ground.
All former care and future toil forgot,
They hailed the present in this happy
spot:
-
tj g y)
190 SCHEIK FEIZI
Merchants they were, and great their
treasured store,
Rich musk from Khoten, gems and
stuffs they bore,
Bound o'er the desert sands to fair
Lahore.
From climes remote, and different
nations, some
Amidst these arid tracts were bent
to roam
In search of pleasure, wandering from
their home.
They sang their country's legends as
they lay,
And soothed with melody the devious
way :
One dark-eyed minstrel lured the
curious throng,
To list the Brahmin's sad, mysterious
sonsr.
LAY OF BRIMHA'S SORROW
Minstrel, wake the Magic spell !
Sing of Love, its wonders tell ;
Tell how it subdues the proud.
BRIMHA'S SORROW 191
Shall we blame weak man that falls,
When thy glowing verse recalls
How immortal nature's bowed,
How great Brimha's heart was tried,
How for woman's love he sighed ?
Who shall say where love begins,
How its subtle way it wins ?
Gods, who love the race they frame,
Cannot tell whence springs the flame.
Man may reason long and well,
But can never break the spell.
Sing of Brimha, and the pain
Which disturbs his sacred reign ;
Even on his heavenly throne
Tears of sorrow cloud his eye,
Dreaming of that fatal one,
Born in awful mystery :
Last created prized the most,
Beauteous, loving, loved, and lost !
Sometimes when the stars look dim,
And the moaning winds are high,
Brimha wakes his mournful hymn,
Tuned to grief that cannot die.
- [
192
SCHEIK FEIZI
THE GOD'S LAMENT
Then farewell ! since 'tis a crime,
Being, beautiful as day,
To adore thee through all time,
Since I may not call thee mine,
Nor before thy glance divine,
Gaze my own rapt soul away.
Ill my anxious toil repaid me,
Fatal was the power that made
thee !
Others may behold those eyes,
Others live for ages blest,
I must seek my native skies,
Robbed of hope, of peace, and
rest.
Thou wilt make the world all
light,
But my throne is endless night.
From my heart thy being came,
Springing from its purest flame.
Little deemed I that the last
op
~
:
i
-
II
M
THE GOD'S LAMENT 193
Brightest of my works would be
As my eager glances fast
On the perfect form I cast
Fatal to my power and me !
Of the lotus flower I chose
Leaves the freshest for thine eyes,
Flowers whose petals never close,
And whose colours are the sky's :
For thy hair, the clouds that fleet
O'er the radiant face of heaven ;
And the waves thy dancing feet
All their rapid play had given ;
Every bud of purest race,
Was combined to form thy face ;
All the powers my prescience knew,
In one mighty work I threw ;
All its force my mind employed
And the close its peace destroyed !
Fain would I the task forget
Which has charmed each sense so
long,
For its guerdon is regret,
And its memory breathes of wrong.
i 9 4 SCHEIK FEIZI
Not one hope can Fate allow :
'Tis a crime to love thee now!
Vainly is the world created,
Vainly may it rise or fall ;
Dead to joy, with triumph sated,
'Tis to me a desert all.
All is nothing without thee,
Yet thy name is death to me !
Death ? ah, would that death could
come,
And my long despair be o'er !
But in my eternal home,
I must mourn for evermore.
Weeping, even as Rudder wept,
Tears that in oblivion slept,
Till the din of mortal strife
Called his being into life.
Floods of tears he gave to me,
And the saddest flow for thee.
Farewell, child of beauty ! go
Bless and gladden all below ;
Turn thine eyes to heaven
prayer,
And behold a lover there,
-
I J l -
A
1
-s\
THE GOD'S LAMENT 195
Who renounced, for thy dear sake.
All the bliss of earth combined :
Save the joys his power might
take,
And to virtue all resigned.
A shriek ! what sound is through
the stillness sent?
All pause, all listen, breathless and
intent,
Even the sagacious camels cease to
graze,
The coursers sniff the air with eager
gaze :
And anxious voices soon their counsel
lent
' Some traveller, lost amidst the
desert's maze,
Demands our care, on on ere yet
too late,
Snatch we our brother from impend-
ing fate.'
And thus was Aiass saved. And at
that hour
Arose the star that shed its guiding
power,
-
: '
- -J
-
196 SCHEIK FEIZI
To lead him on to wealth, and pomp,
and state ;
The noblest, highest midst the proud
and great.
And bards have told the fortunes of
that child,
Exposed to famine in the dreary-
wild,
Whose peerless beauty and whose
mighty fame
Have filled the world with Mehr-el-
Nissar's name !
EDINBURGH
and A. CONSTABLE
Printers to
University of California
SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY
405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388
Return this material to the library
from which it was borrowed.
2 7 :.
A 000 1 1 1 064 2
Uni
