{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_45158/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_45158","id":"gutenberg_45158","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45158","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Poetry","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Jami, 1414-1492","Persian literature -- History and criticism","Persian literature -- Translations into English"],"text":"J\u00c1M\u00cd\n\nBY F. HADLAND DAVIS\n\nAUTHOR OF \"JAL\u00c1LU'D-D\u00cdN R\u00daM\u00cd,\" ETC.\n\n\nWISDOM OF THE EAST\n\nTHE PERSIAN MYSTICS\n\n\nLONDON\n\nJOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.\n\n1918\n\n\n\n\"With men of light I sought these pearls to string,\nThe drift of mystics' sayings forth to bring.\"\n                                             J\u00c1M\u00cd\n\n\n\n                TO\n      ALL THOSE WHO FIND IN THE\n   WISDOM AND MYSTICISM OP THE EAST\n    GREAT BEAUTY AND A GREAT PEACE\n     THIS LITTLE BOOK IS INSCRIBED\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\nIn the preparation of this little volume much depended upon the\nkindness and generosity of certain Oriental scholars, who have allowed\nme to reproduce some of their translations from J\u00e1m\u00ed. I have attempted\nto give their best work in so far as it tends to illustrate the\nmystical teaching of the last great poet of Persia.\n\nOnce more I am indebted to Mr. E. H. Whinfield for permission to\nquote from his translation of the _Law\u00e1'ih_ (Oriental Translation\nFund, New Series, vol. xvi., Royal Asiatic Society, London). I have\nto thank Prof. Edward G. Browne for allowing me to use his beautiful\ntranslation from _Y\u00fasuf and Zulaikha_, which I have called \"The Coming\nof the Beloved.\" This translation appears, in fuller form, in Prof. E.\nG. Browne's article on \"S\u00faf\u00edism\" in _Religious Systems of the World_\n(Sonnenschein). The chapter in the present volume entitled \"The Story\nof Y\u00fasuf and Zulaikha\" originally appeared in the _Orient Review_,\nand I am indebted to the editors for their courtesy in allowing me\nto reproduce it here. I very much appreciate Mr. E. Edwards's kindly\ninterest in my work, and for the valuable suggestions he has made from\ntime to time. I tender my thanks to Messrs. Kegan Paul for allowing me\nto make a selection from _Y\u00fasuf and Zulaikha_, translated by the late\nMr. Ralph T. Griffith (Tr\u00fcbner's Oriental Series).\n\nThe translations from _Sal\u00e1m\u00e1n and Abs\u00e1l_ are by Edward FitzGerald,\nand those from the _Bah\u00e1rist\u00e1n_ were originally published by the Kama\nShastra Society.\n\n                                                 F. HADLAND DAVIS\n\nLONDON,\n  _March_,1908.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n      I. THE LIFE OF J\u00c1M\u00cd\n     II. THE STORY OF \"SAL\u00c1M\u00c1N AND ABS\u00c1L\"\n    III. THE TEACHING OF THE \"LAW\u00c1'IH\"\n     IV. THE STORY OF \"Y\u00daSUF AND ZULAIKHA\"\n      V. THE \"BAH\u00c1RIST\u00c1N,\" OR \"ABODE OF SPRING\"\n\n    SELECTIONS FROM \"SAL\u00c1M\u00c1N AND ABS\u00c1L\"\n    SELECTIONS FROM THE \"LAW\u00c1'IH\"\n    SELECTIONS FROM \"Y\u00daSUF AND ZULAIKHA\"\n    SELECTIONS FROM THE \"BAH\u00c1RIST\u00c1N\"\n\n\n\nEDITORIAL NOTE\n\nThe object of the editors of this series is a very definite one. They\ndesire above all things that, in their humble way, these books shall be\nthe ambassadors of good-will and understanding between East and West,\nthe old world of Thought, and the new of Action. In this endeavour,\nand in their own sphere, they are but followers of the highest example\nin the land. They are confident that a deeper knowledge of the great\nideals and lofty philosophy of Oriental thought may help to a revival\nof that true spirit of Charity which neither despises nor fears the\nnations of another creed and colour.\n\n                                       L. CRANMER-BYNG.\n                                         S. A. KAPADIA.\n\nNORTHBROOK SOCIETY,\n    21 CROMWELL ROAD,\n           KENSINGTON, S.W.\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nI. THE LIFE OF J\u00c1M\u00cd\n\nNur-add\u00edn 'Abd-alrahm\u00e1n J\u00e1m\u00ed was born in J\u00e1m[1] the 23rd of Sha'b\u00e1n,\n817, A.H. (Nov. 7, 1414 A.D.), and died at Her\u00e1t the 18th of Muharram,\n898 A.H. (NOV. 9, 1492 A.D.). Dr. Hermann Eth\u00e9 gives Khasjird, near\nJ\u00e1m, as the birthplace of the poet; but as J\u00e1m\u00ed himself refers more\nthan once to the fact of J\u00e1m being his birthplace, we must give the\npoet the benefit of the doubt and I trust to his good memory in the\nmatter. The fact that J\u00e1m and Khasjird are in close proximity I has\nprobably given rise to confusion in the matter. It will be evident that\nthe poet took his name from the first-mentioned town.\n\nIn 822 A.H. Khw\u00e1jah Mohammad P\u00e1rs\u00e1 happened to pass through the little\ntown of J\u00e1m, _en route_ for Hij\u00e0z. A great concourse of people came out\nto do the holy man honour, and among them was the little boy, J\u00e1m\u00ed, and\nhis father. A pretty story is told of how J\u00e1m\u00ed's father seated his son\nin front of Khw\u00e1jah's litter. I do not think the little fellow laughed\nvery much, as most boys would have done on such a joyous occasion,\nbecause J\u00e1m\u00ed, writing on his impression of that day sixty years after,\ntells us that \"The pure refulgence of his (Mohammad P\u00e1rs\u00e1's) beaming\ncountenance is even now, as then, clearly visible to me, and my heart\nstill feels the joy I experienced from that happy meeting. I firmly\nbelieve that that bond of union, friendship, confidence, and love,\nwhich subsequently bound the great body of pious spirits to this humble\ncreature, is wholly due to the fortunate influence of his glance, and\nmost devoutly do I trust that the auspiciousness of this union may\ncause me to be ranked among the number of his friends.\" J\u00e1m\u00ed seems to\nhave had much faith in the contact with holy men, and he attached much\nimportance to a certain Shaikh who took him on his knee as a child.\nThis very estimable reverence for holy men and holy things must ever\nremain as one of the poet's finest characteristics. We can, however,\nnever say of J\u00e1m\u00ed that he was a man of wide sympathy. He was kind and\ngenerous towards the poor and needy; but he lamentably failed where,\nperhaps, he should have shone most, namely, among the literary men of\nhis own period. He too frequently displayed a fighting spirit, where\ntolerance and a willingness to admit of another point of view would\nhave shown to greater advantage.\n\nJ\u00e1m\u00ed commenced his education at Her\u00e1t. He strongly objected to the\ndisciplinary methods of instruction, was not studious as a boy, and\npreferred games rather than the study of books. But he was naturally\nclever, naturally quick at absorbing knowledge with a minimum of\nlabour. It is said of him that he used to snatch a book from one of his\nfellow students while on his way to school and excel them all when they\nwere examined in class.\n\nJ\u00e1m\u00ed soon left his instructor Mull\u00e1 Junaid and became a pupil of\nKhw\u00e1jah 'Al\u00ed al-Samarqandi. J\u00e1m\u00ed was so brilliant a scholar that\nafter forty lessons further instruction from his master was quite\nunnecessary. After attending a series of lectures by Qaz\u00ed R\u00fam, at\nSamarqand, he succeeded in getting the best of an argument with the\nlearned professor who had given the lectures. It might have been\nexpected that the defeat of an older man of letters than J\u00e1m\u00ed would\nhave produced ill-feeling; but quite the contrary was the case.\nQaz\u00ed R\u00fam, before a large assembly, described J\u00e1m\u00ed thus: \"Since the\nbuilding of this city, no one equal, in sharpness of intellects and\npower of using them, to young J\u00e1m\u00ed, has ever crossed the Oxus and\nentered Samarqand.\" This was high praise indeed; but though it awakens\nour admiration, the fact that he dispensed with \"home-work\" while\nat school, scanned his lessons while walking past the rose-gardens,\nbettered his instructor in an argument, and in every way shone as a\nmost clever young man, because he simply could not help being anything\nelse, makes him not one whit dearer to our hearts if we expect from him\nsomething more than cleverness. J\u00e1m\u00ed had not that greatness of soul\nwhereby to counteract the deterrent effect his conspicuous success\nmight have upon him. In these early days of too youthful recognition we\nfind J\u00e1m\u00ed infected with that disease commonly known as \"swelled head,\"\nfrom which the poet never recovered. We see him too often as a little\ntin-god denying, with the exception of his father, all indebtedness to\nothers for his noteworthy erudition--an absurd attitude for any one\nto take. He remarks: \"I have found no master with whom I have read,\nsuperior to myself. On the contrary I have invariably found that,\nin argument, I could defeat them all. I acknowledge, therefore, the\nobligations of a pupil to his master to none of them; for if I am the\npupil of any one, it is of my father who taught me the language.\" This\nblatantly conceited attitude is both disappointing and surprising\nwhen we remember first, that J\u00e1m\u00ed was a professed S\u00faf\u00ed, the follower\nof a teaching the tenets of which are the abandonment of self and the\nknowledge of God only. Second, that J\u00e1m\u00ed had a very decided sense of\nhumour, strongly in evidence in the \"Sixth Garden\" of his _Bah\u00e1rist\u00e1n_,\nso delightfully entitled: \"Blowing of the zephyrs of wit and the\nbreezes of jocular sallies, which cause the buds of the lips to laugh\nand the flowers of the hearts to bloom.\" From these two things alone we\nmight have expected a finer and nobler character. We must be, however,\ncontent with the life of a great literary egoist, abandon sentiment,\nand remember only that he has left to posterity the most polished of\nPersian poetry.\n\nJ\u00e1m\u00ed's acceptance of S\u00faf\u00edism was brought about through a vision in\nwhich S'ad al-D\u00edn appeared to him and said: \"Go, O child! and wait\non one who is indispensable to you.\" As this message was delivered\nby a spirit J\u00e1m\u00ed appears to have taken no objection to the word\n\"indispensable\"; but on the contrary, obeyed the command and went to\nS'ad al-D\u00edn for spiritual instruction. Under this holy man J\u00e1m\u00ed lived\nthe life of a rigid ascetic. So devoutly and so strenuously did J\u00e1m\u00ed\nperform his penances that when S'ad al-D\u00edn thought fit to lessen them\nand allow J\u00e1m\u00ed to mix with society again, the poet found that he had\nlost his power of eloquence, for which he had been so justly famed,\nand it was some considerable time before he regained his position as a\ngreat master of rhetoric.\n\nI have already said that J\u00e1m\u00ed showed a very strong liking for holy\nand pious men. Particularly might be mentioned Shams al-D\u00edn Mohammad\nAsad and 'Ubaid Ullah Ahr\u00e1r. The last mentioned alludes to J\u00e1m\u00ed as\nthe \"flood of light,\" and to himself as the \"small lamp.\" But J\u00e1m\u00ed,\nnevertheless, was not very optimistic in his views regarding other\npeople. \"Alas,\" said he, \"I can find no seekers after _Truth_. Seekers\nthere are, but they are seekers of their own prosperity.\"\n\nIt was while making a pilgrimage to Mecca that J\u00e1m\u00ed suffered\nconsiderably from the mutilation of a passage from his _Silsilah\nal-Dhahab_, a passage purposely borrowed from Qaz\u00ed Az\u00e1d. The mutilation\nwas performed by N'imat-i Haidar\u00ed, a native of J\u00e1m, who had accompanied\nJ\u00e1m\u00ed to Baghdad, had quarrelled, and left the little band and some\nMoslims of another order. The partially suppressed passage was shown to\nsome of the Sh\u00ed'a as the work of J\u00e1m\u00ed. The poet and his followers met\nwith a heated dispute from the people of Baghdad. Finally a meeting was\ncalled in the Madrassah of the town. A large number of excited people\nattended. The Hanafi and Sh\u00e1fi'\u00ed churches were represented, and in\nfront of their respective representatives sat the Governor. When the\n_Silsilah al-Dhahab_ was perused the piece of deception was discovered,\nnamely, that the beginning and end had been suppressed, and a passage\nadded likely to offend the people of Baghdad. Peace was once more\nrestored. J\u00e1m\u00ed, however, felt justified in punishing the originators\nof the plot. N'imat-i Haidar\u00ed had his moustache very unceremoniously\ncut off, and was commanded to forfeit a pious garb with the crushing\nremark: \"It will be necessary for you to recommend yourself to some\nholy man of the day, who, peradventure, may yet put you on the right\nway.\" This man's brother, who had also offended, was forced to wear\na fool's cap and to ride on an ass with his head facing the animal's\ntail, amid the none too complimentary remarks of the Baghdad people.\n\nAlthough J\u00e1m\u00ed, in spite of the incident mentioned above, remained in\nBaghdad four months, he never forgot the insult, and expressed himself\nbitterly on the subject in some of his poetry.\n\nWe then find our poet continuing his journey to Mecca, and both on his\nway to the holy city of Islam and upon his return therefrom, he met\nwith cordial receptions from the people, who came out to do him honour.\nOn one occasion, however, while J\u00e1m\u00ed stayed at Aleppo the Sult\u00e1n of R\u00fam\nsent a messenger with a present of five thousand pieces of gold if J\u00e1m\u00ed\nwould consent to visit Constantinople. The messenger came to Damascus\nonly to find that J\u00e1m\u00ed had recently vacated it. The poet, hearing of\nthe Sult\u00e1n of R\u00fam's intentions, and wishing to avoid his munificence,\ntook his departure to Tabr\u00edz. At this town Hasan Beg, the Governor of\nKurdistan, made repeated overtures to try and persuade the poet to\nreside in his capital. But J\u00e1m\u00ed, making the excuse that he wished to\nvisit his aged mother, journeyed to Khorasan. Fate, however, ordained\nhonours and showers of gold for the none too grateful or needy J\u00e1m\u00ed,\nand at Khorasan he was again the recipient of many costly presents.\n\nJ\u00e1m\u00ed, probably wearied with the continual adulation which he had\neverywhere received, now retired from public life. At this juncture\nlittle is recorded of him, and here we must leave him with one anecdote\nwhich will serve to show his ready wit: \"You (_i.e._ God) so occupy my\nwhole thoughts and vision, that whatsoever comes into view from afar\nappears to me to be You.\" \"What,\" said a sharp contemporary, \"if a\njackass were to come into view?\" \"It would appear to me to be _you_!\"\nwas J\u00e1m\u00ed's prompt reply.\n\n\nII. THE STORY OF \"SAL\u00c1M\u00c1N AND ABS\u00c1L.\"\n\n\nIn this beautiful little allegory, the meaning of which is so obvious\nthat J\u00e1m\u00ed need not have explained it in his Epilogue, we read of the\nShah of Yunan. He was a king ever wisely counselled by a sage who kept\nthe Tower of Wisdom, and might be therefore reasonably supposed to be a\nfit and able personage to have about the king's person. However, this\nsage was also a cynic.\n\nOne day, after the king had poured forth a very beautiful lament on\nhis childless marriage, and had concluded by remarking that a son was\n\"man's prime desire,\" the keeper of the Tower of Wisdom supplemented\nhis lord's remarks by describing woman as \"A foolish, faithless thing,\"\nand marriage made miserable by \"One little twist of temper.\" If the\nsage succeeded in frightening the king with his tirade on earthly\nmarriage, he was certainly not successful in quelling the king's desire\nfor a son. Of course in allegories nothing is impossible, and we are\nnot at all surprised to find that the king's wish was fulfilled by\nmagic! The fond father named his son Sal\u00e1m\u00e1n and chose Abs\u00e1l for his\nnurse.\n\nAbs\u00e1l seems to have been delighted with her charge:\n\n    As soon as she had opened eyes on him,\n    She closed those eyes to all the world beside.\n\nBy this we might well infer that Abs\u00e1l was a most estimable nurse.\nIt so happened, however, that her eyes remained closed to everything\nelse but her charge to such an alarming extent that when Sal\u00e1m\u00e1n\nwas fourteen years old she revealed herself, with many subtle,\nZulaikha-like wiles, as his devoted lover.\n\nAfter the young people had spent a joyous year together, the knowledge\nof their attachment came to the ears of the king. That wise ruler\nduly admonished his wayward son and suggested hunting in preference\nto \"dalliance unwise.\" The sage added his profound wisdom, as was his\nwont. These admonitions only resulted in the lovers fleeing the city.\nAcross desert and sea they went until they came to a most wonderful\nisland, the island of all earthly delights.\n\nIn the meantime the Shah became aware of his son's \"Soul-wasting\nabsence.\" The much troubled king looked into a mirror, \"Reflecting all\nthe world,\" and saw the lovers on their beautiful island, \"Looking\nonly in each other's eyes, and r never finding any sorrow there.\" The\nold king, remembering, perhaps, his early days, pitied them at first.\nBut human pity is usually short-lived. Day after day seeing the same\nlovelorn objects in the magic mirror, he grew very angry and decided\nto make the lovers' embraces impossible in future. The king succeeded\nin casting a spell and also in revealing his face to his son, which\nso pricked the young man's conscience that he and Abs\u00e1l left their\nbeautiful island and returned to their city. But here Sal\u00e1m\u00e1n was torn\nwith conflicting thoughts about his beloved Abs\u00e1l. Memories of the\nisland garden came back to him again. In this melancholy state of mind\nthe lovers again journeyed forth into the desert, this time to cut down\nbranches and burn themselves to death. \"Hand in hand they sprang into\nthe fire.\" While one little hand slipped away from its hold and one\nfair body fell among the flames, Sal\u00e1m\u00e1n remained unscathed.\n\nIt was after this sad scene that the sage explained the nature of\nCelestial Love, and revealed to Sal\u00e1m\u00e1n's weary eyes the beautiful\ngoddess, Zuhrah. Little by little Sal\u00e1m\u00e1n came to regard his old\nearthly love as \"The bondage of Abs\u00e1l,\" a thing merely of the senses,\nwhereas this new Knowledge, this Love, belonged to the \"Harvest of\nEternity.\" And so this beautiful little poem, to put it as briefly as\npossible, tells of the love that binds and fetters and is corruptible,\nand of that other Love that is Incorruptible.\n\n\nIII. THE TEACHING OF THE \"LAW\u00c1'IH.\"\n\n\nThe _Law\u00e1'ih_, or \"Flashes of Light,\" is a theological treatise based\non S\u00faf\u00edism, and is a book of immense importance to the student of\nMysticism. It will afford him a very interesting and striking parallel\nto Neo-Platonism (Plotinus in particular), and also to some of the\nBuddhistic teachings. As I have treated the subject of S\u00faf\u00edism, or\nPersian Mysticism, elsewhere,[2] I need add but few words to this\nparticular volume of S\u00faf\u00ed lore.\n\nThe keynote to the _Law\u00e1'ih_ is to be found in J\u00e1m\u00ed's preface. He\ndescribes the work as \"Explanatory of the intuitions and verities\ndisplayed on the pages of the hearts and minds of men of insight and\ndivine knowledge.\" After a request to his readers to refrain from\n\"cavilling and animadversion,\" he continues, this time in verse:\n\n    Believe me, I am naught--yea, less than naught.\n    By naught and less than naught what can be taught?\n\n    I tell the mysteries of truth, but know\n    Naught save the telling to this task I brought.\n         * * * * * * * * * * * * * *\n    With men of light I sought these pearls to string,\n    The drift of mystics' sayings forth to bring.\n\nThe _Law\u00e1'ih_, expounds some very beautiful and very ennobling truths.\nIn \"Flash II.\" J\u00e1m\u00ed pleads for the love of One and the abandonment of\nall little earthly loves that distract the attention of the lover for\nhis Beloved--precisely the same theme as that expressed in _Sal\u00e1m\u00e1n\nand Abs\u00e1l_. The poet loudly condemns \"Hell-born vanity\" and the\naccumulation of worldly wisdom, even all learning except \"The lore of\nGod.\" It would be a strange theme for a poet to so persistently choose\nwere not J\u00e1m\u00ed a mystic. With the \"Inner light\" of the true mystic he\nsets aside the things of the world as being unsatisfactory. He does\nnot, however, merely pull down the fading, ever vanishing vanities of\nthe world, but with the strong clear voice of the poet-prophet, he\nsings:\n\n    The fleeting phantoms you admire to-day\n    Will soon at Heaven's behest be swept away.\n    O give your heart to Him who never fails,\n    Who, ever with you, and will ever stay.\n\nJ\u00e1m\u00ed advocates, as others have done before him, the destruction of self\nin order to gain knowledge of Very Being, \"Until He mingles Himself\nwith thy soul, and thine own individual existence passes out of thy\nsight.\" The poet also discusses the question of matter being _maya_--\nI delusion, the ceaseless round of \"Accidents,\" the I ever coming and\nvanishing media for the revelations of the Beloved.\n\nThe _Law\u00e1'ih_ should be studied in conjunction with Mahmud Shabistari's\n_Gulshan-i-Raz_[3] or \"The Mystic Rose Garden.\" The main teaching of\nboth these books is that the indwelling of God I in the soul can only\ntake place when that soul realises that self is a delusion, that things\nof this I world are but phantom-pictures coming and going, as it were,\nupon the surface of a mirror:\n\n    Go, sweep out the chamber of your heart,\n    Make it ready to be the dwelling-place of the Beloved.\n    When you depart out, He will enter in,\n    In you, void of _yourself_, will He display His beauty.[4]\n\nThe phenomenal world to the S\u00faf\u00ed was nothing more than an\never-recurring process of genesis and end: union with the Divine,\nannihilation of that process. The _Law\u00e1'ih_ is deeply spiritual\nthroughout, and full of an almost pathetic pity for those who delight\nin worldly pleasures and find no joy in contemplating Union with the\nBeloved.\n\nJ\u00e1m\u00ed, after having spent considerable care on his _Law\u00e1'ih_, and after\nhis reader has made a strenuous effort to catch a momentary glimpse of\nhis visionary meaning, concludes:\n\n    J\u00e1m\u00ed, leave polishing of phrases, cease\n    Writing and chanting fables, hold thy peace;\n    Dream not that \"Truth\" can be revealed by words:\n    From this fond dream, O dreamer, find release!\n           * * * * * * * * * * * * * *\n    How long wilt thou keep clanging like a bell?\n    Thou'lt never come to hold the pearl of \"Truth\"\n    Till thou art made all ear, as is the shell.\n\nAnd here we see the great mystical poet sitting, like a little child\nlistening to a tale that is told, quelled into reverential silence by\nthe greatness of the theme. It is in silence, in the quiet places of\nour hearts, rather than on the housetops of much controversy, that we\ncan hear the sweet call of the Beloved and forget the clanging of the\nworld in the Great Peace which He alone can give.\n\n\nIV. THE STORY OF Y\u00daSUF AND ZULAIKHA.\n\n_Y\u00fasuf and Zulaikha_, like _Sal\u00e1m\u00e1n and Abs\u00e1l,_ belongs to the series\nof poems known as the _Haft Aurang_. J\u00e1m\u00ed heralds his poem with a good\ndeal of laudacious singing on the Prophet, Beauty, Love, and concludes\nby remarking that the loves of Majn\u00fan and Laila \"have had their day,\"\nand makes this excuse for weaving another love poem on another theme.\nBut this scheme was scarcely original, Firdaws\u00ed and Ansari having\npreviously composed poems on a similar subject. However, the tongue of\nthe critic is surely silenced by these humble lines:\n\n    If here and there a slip or fault you see,\n    May he not lay the blame of all on me.\n    May he correct my errors, or befriend\n    With generous silence faults he cannot mend.\n\nIf the work be regarded as a love poem, without its mystical\ninterpretation, Y\u00fasuf may well be regarded as a cold, statuesque young\nman of the St. Anthony type, but cast in a more beautiful mould.\nWhile we may equally well regard Zulaikha as a passionate young lady\nsadly lacking in worldly wisdom. The coldness of Y\u00fasuf would probably\nirritate us were we not frequently reminded of the way in which poor\nZulaikha plagues him with her too constant attentions. Neither strike\nus as being very ordinary human people for precisely reverse reasons.\nThere are occasions, however, when Zulaikha awakens our sympathy. It is\ntouching to note that when she finds her own love slighted she should\nsend other women to try their fortune with him, intending, should they\nsucceed, to subtly take their place by strategy of some kind. Again,\nin the splendid Palace of Pleasure, painted all over, floor and wall\nand ceiling, with love-entwined figures of Y\u00fasuf and Zulaikha, there is\nan idol--\"A golden idol with jewelled eyes,\" representing this fatuous\nwoman's love. The idol is placed behind a curtain, and on Y\u00fasuf asking\nthe reason, Zulaikha replies:\n\n    If I swerve from religion I would not be\n    Where the angry eyes of my god may see.\n\nThen we watch the honeyed sweetness of Zulaikha's passion burst forth\ninto bitter hate and shameless lying. We see the proud, chaste Y\u00fasuf\ncast into prison on false pretences and quite melodramatically freed\nby the marvellous utterance of a babe at its mother's breast.[5]\nBut Zulaikha finds the gossip of Memphis hard to be borne--the\ninsinuations, the sneers, the cruel reproaches for the unrequited and\nill-fated love of hers. Moreover, Zulaikha, like the women of Austria\nat the beginning of the eighteenth century,[6] had a husband as well\nas a lover, Potiphar, Grand Vizier of Egypt. These two concocted a\nscandalous story, which was easily set going and as easily believed by\nthe common people. It resulted in Y\u00fasuf being again sent to prison. At\nthis point of the poem we are once more reminded of the Bible story of\nJoseph, for J\u00e1m\u00ed also mentions the interpretation of Pharaoh's dream,\nthe release of the interpreter, and the unlimited power as the king's\nright hand that followed.\n\nSo we watch Y\u00fasuf rise from slave to be the king's chief adviser, and\nin consequence the fall of the Grand Vizier and Zulaikha. The success\nof Y\u00fasuf awakens little admiration. He is so far from being human that\nwe should not have been very surprised if he had eaten one of the\nPyramids.\n\nBut Zulaikha's condition is to be pitied. She is now a widow. Her\njewels are gone, her dress is in rags, there are wrinkles in her once\nbeautiful face, and her back is bent. But more than all these trials is\nthe loss of her eyesight. We see her crouching in the road, listening\neagerly for the sound of the coming of the proud Y\u00fasuf on his wonderful\nsteed,[7] happy to feel the dust of his passing procession. There is a\nnote of real pathos in this scene. We see for the first time, perhaps,\nthat Zulaikha's passion is changing into a fairer, nobler thing.\nSometimes the boys who preceded Y\u00fasuf would shout to her as she sat by\nher cottage of reeds, \"Y\u00fasuf is nigh!\" But Zulaikha's heart, sore and\nhungry and yearning, knew better than they the approach of her lord.\nThe eyes that had seen the Palace of Pleasure saw more now that they\nwere blind! And yet the old passion had not quite burnt itself out. We\nsee the bent form crouching on the ground, feeling the statue of her\nY\u00fasuf with her thin, trembling fingers, and piteously praying for some\nrecognition.\n\nThe sound of Y\u00fasuf's steed is heard in the distance, and a great shout\nrends the air: \"Make room! Make room!\" Zulaikha again crouches in the\nroadway. How long has she \"made room\" for the selfish and unfeeling\nambitions of a man who was once her pampered slave! It is then, for the\nfirst time, that the soul of Zulaikha asserts itself and the mysticism\nof the poem becomes strongly evident. The material spell of a fleshly\nlove is broken at last. In humility and absolute resignation Zulaikha\nshatters her once dear idol, destroys a sordid and hopeless dream. Her\nred rose of passion is turned into a white one, as she fervently cries:\n\n    O God, who lovest the humble, Thou\n    To whom idols, their makers, their servants bow;\n    'Tis to the light which Thy splendour lends\n    To the idol's face that its worshipper bends.\n\nStill more triumphant are her words:\n\n    Glory to God! to a monarch's state\n    He has cast the king from his glory down,\n    And set on the head of a servant his crown.\n\nThese words sufficiently interest Y\u00fasuf to ask, \"Who is this\nbedeswoman?\" and eventually to win an interview for the poor \"Unpitied,\nforgotten, disgraced woman.\" Y\u00fasuf does not proceed to moralise; but he\ndoes not dispense with frigid formalities beyond calling her Zulaikha\nand offering, in a studied kind of way, to do anything for her that she\nmay desire. Zulaikha asks for beauty, youth, and the power to win his\nlove. Y\u00fasuf grants her first two wishes, and the decrepit old woman\nis changed into the ravishingly beautiful Zulaikha of eighteen. But\nY\u00fasuf,[8] cold even now, in silence turns in prayer to Heaven, and\ntakes Gabriel's word rather than his own conviction that he is doing\nwell to marry her at last.\n\nHere the late Mr. Ralph Griffith's translation of _Y\u00fasuf and Zulaikha_\nends, and the curious and farseeing might be pardoned for conjecturing\nan unhappy marriage under these remarkably one-sided circumstances.\nBut in the original the poem does not end here. For the advantage of\noptimistic believers in marriage, I may add that these two people\nhad an almost unending honeymoon. Remarkable as it may appear,\nZulaikha actually became religious, for which altogether wonderful\nand unexpected event the now kindly Y\u00fasuf built her a most beautiful\nHouse of Prayer. The canto entitled \"The Longed-for Death\" is a little\ndisconcerting, perhaps, but we may reasonably suppose that Y\u00fasuf became\nreligious too, and was not in any way uncomplimentary to his beautiful\nbride. His death was well arranged, and he was shortly joined by the\nsoul of Zulaikha.\n\nThis, then, is & brief sketch of _Y\u00fasuf and Zulaikha_. Like _Sal\u00e1m\u00e1n\nand Abs\u00e1l_ it is intended to reveal the beauty of the Beloved; that\nHe can be only approached after much purification, when the physical\nform ceases to blind the soul's outlook, and only when we realise that\npassion is an idol that must be broken, and Love the pure Light that\nshines alone from Him.\n\n\nV. THE \"BAH\u00c1RIST\u00c1N,\" OR \"ABODE OF SPRING\"\n\n\nThe _Bah\u00e1rist\u00e1n_, or \"Abode of Spring,\" is admitted by J\u00e1m\u00ed to be\nan imitation of Sa'di's _Gulist\u00e1n_, or \"Rose Garden.\" The idea of\narranging a book of verse and prose into a series of \"Gardens\" was\na very beautiful one. Two other books compiled on similar lines are\nSa'di's _B\u00fast\u00e1n_, or \"Orchard,\" and the _Nigarist\u00e1n_, or \"Picture\nGallery,\" by Mu'in-uddin Jawini, which appeared in 1334 A.D. Sir\nEdwin Arnold's _With Sa'di in a Garden_ gives the Westerner some\nidea of the beauty of Eastern gardens, and this particular garden is\nrendered all the more delectable because it holds a greater beauty\nthan the loveliest garden, the Taj Mahal itself. Sir Edwin transfers\nPersian poetry to an Indian garden, which is not very dissimilar to\nthe beautiful gardens of Shiraz. Professor A. V. Williams Jackson[9]\ndescribes the _Bagh-i-Takht_, \"Garden of the Throne,\" thus: \"Terrace\nrises above terrace, and fountain, channel, and stream pour their\nwaters in cascades over slabs of marble into reservoirs faced with\nstone--the walks bordered with cypress and orange trees.\" It would be\ninteresting to know if the terraces in any way corresponded with the\nidea of naming and numbering the \"Gardens\" in J\u00e1m\u00ed's _Bah\u00e1rist\u00e1n._ A\nbeautiful mosque, a bower of roses, running water; might not these\nthings alone have suggested to the poet's mind \"The pavilion of\nExcellency, Love, and Laughter?\"\n\nThe _Bah\u00e1rist\u00e1n_ has a distinct interest apart from its literary merit.\nIt appears to have been written by J\u00e1m\u00ed for the instruction of his\n\"darling and beloved son Zi\u00e1-uddin-Y\u00fasuf.\" The poet-father goes on to\nsay, \"That young boys and inexperienced youths become very disheartened\nand unhappy when they receive instruction in idiomatic expressions\nthey are not accustomed to.\" Although J\u00e1m\u00ed allowed his son to read the\n_Gulist\u00e1n_, he evidently thought the last word had not yet been written\nin the interests of instructing the young, and thus conceived the idea\nof writing the _Bah\u00e1rist\u00e1n_.\n\nOne is so apt to see printed requests in the public gardens of England\nthat it seems a little ironical to come across the following in the\nliterary \"Gardens\" of J\u00e1m\u00ed: \"It is requested that the promenaders\nin these gardens--which contain no thorns to give offence, nor\nrubbish displayed for interested purposes,--walking through them with\nsympathetic steps and looking at them carefully, will bestow their good\nwishes, and rejoice with praise the gardener who has spent much trouble\nand great exertions in planning and cultivating these gardens.\" In\nregard to the statement that the _Gardens_ \"contain no Thorns to give\noffence,\" I, for one, must beg to differ. One ugly weed there is which\nthe gardener would have done well to destroy in his otherwise very\nbeautiful garden.\n\nThe _Bah\u00e1rist\u00e1n_ is divided into eight \"Gardens.\" The _First_ deals\nwith the sayings and doings of the saintly, wise, and those \"who occupy\nthe chief seats in the pavilion of Excellency.\" The _Second_ with\nphilosophical subtleties. The _Third_ with Justice, Equity, Government,\nand Administration, and in general \"to show the wisdom of Sult\u00e1ns.\" The\n_Fourth_ with Liberality and Generosity. The _Fifth_ with Love. The\n_Sixth_ with \"Blowing of the zephyrs of wit, and the breezes of jocular\nsallies, which cause the buds of the lips to laugh and the flowers of\nthe hearts; to bloom.\" The _Seventh_ with a selection from the work of\nPersian poets. The _Eighth_, and last, with animal stories.\n\n\n[Footnote 1: See Preface to _Lives of the Mystics_. By Nassan Lees.\nCalcutta, 1859.]\n\n[Footnote 2: _The Persian Mystics_: Jal\u00e1lu'd-D\u00edn R\u00fam\u00ed. \"Wisdom of the\nEast\" Series.]\n\n[Footnote 3: See E. H. Whinfield's translation.]\n\n[Footnote 4: _Gulshan-i-Raz_. Translated by E. H. Whinfield.]\n\n[Footnote 5: Compare the miraculous speaking of the babe Jesus in a\ncave, mentioned in the New Testament Apocryphal Writings.]\n\n[Footnote 6: See the Letters of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu.]\n\n[Footnote 7: Compare Firdaws\u00ed's description of the horse Rakush in\nthe _Shahn\u00e1m\u00e1_. Also Kyrat, the wonderful steed of the bandit-poet,\nKurroglou.]\n\n[Footnote 8: Compare Rama's attitude after the destruction of Lanka.]\n\n[Footnote 9: _Persia Past and Present. A Book of Travel and Research._]\n\n\n\n\nSELECTIONS FROM \"SAL\u00c1M\u00c1N AND ABS\u00c1L\"\n\n\n    The guests have drunk the wine and are departed,\n    Leaving their empty bowls behind--not one\n    To carry on the revel, cup in hand!\n    Up, J\u00e1m\u00ed, then! And whether lees or wine\n    To offer--boldly offer it in thine!\n    And yet, how long, J\u00e1m\u00ed, is this old house\n    Stringing thy pearls upon a harp of song?\n    Year after year striking up some new song,\n    The breath of some old story? Life is gone,\n    And yet the song is not the last; my soul\n    Is spent--and still a story to be told!\n                                  SAL\u00c1M\u00c1N AND ABS\u00c1L.\n\n\n    \"THOU MOVEST UNDER ALL THE FORMS OF TRUTH\"\n\n    O Thou, whose memory quickens lovers' souls,\n    Whose fount of joy renews the lover's tongue,\n    Thy shadow falls across the world, and they\n    Bow down to it; and of the rich in beauty\n    Thou art the riches that make lovers mad.\n    Not till Thy secret beauty through the cheek\n    Of Laila smite does she inflame Majn\u00fan,\n    And not till Thou have sugar'd Sh\u00edr\u00edn's lip\n    The hearts of those two lovers fill with blood.\n    For lov'd and lover are not but by Thee,\n    Nor beauty; mortal beauty but the veil\n    Thy heavenly hides behind, and from itself\n    Feeds, and our hearts yearn after as a bride\n    That glances past us veil'd--but even so\n    As none the beauty from the veil may know.\n    How long wilt Thou continue thus the world\n    To cozen with the phantom of a veil\n    From which Thou only peepest?--Time it is\n    To unfold Thy perfect beauty. I would be\n    Thy lover, and Thine only--I, mine eyes\n    Seal'd in the light of Thee to all but Thee,\n    Yea, in the revelation of Thyself\n    Self-lost, and conscience-quit of good and evil.\n    Thou movest under all the forms of truth,\n    Under the forms of all created things;\n    Look whence I will, still nothing I discern\n    But Thee in all the universe.\n\n\n\n\n    \"MAN'S PRIME DESIRE\"\n\n    O thou whose wisdom is the rule of kings--\n    (Glory to God who gave it!)--answer me:\n    Is any blessing better than a son?\n    Man's prime desire; by which his name and he\n    Shall live beyond himself; by whom his eyes\n    Shine living, and his dust with roses blows;\n    A foot for thee to stand on he shall be,\n    A hand to stop thy falling; in his youth\n    Thou shalt be young, and in his strength be strong;\n    Sharp shall he be in battle as a sword,\n    A cloud of arrows on the enemy's head;\n    His voice shall cheer his friends to better plight,\n    And turn the foeman's glory into flight.\n\n\n\n    LUST\n\n    Lust that makes blind the reason; lust that makes\n    A devil's self seem angel to our eyes;\n    A cataract that, carrying havoc with it,\n    Confounds the prosperous house; a road of mire\n    Where whoso falls he rises not again;\n    A wine of which whoever tastes shall see\n    Redemption's face no more--one little sip\n    Of that delicious and unlawful drink,\n    Making crave much, and hanging round the palate\n    Till it become a ring to lead thee by\n    (Putting the rope in a vain woman's hand),\n    Till thou thyself go down the Way of Nothing.\n\n\n\n\n    THE BABY DARLING\n\n    As soon as she had opened eyes on him,\n    She closed those eyes to all the world beside,\n    And her soul crazed, a-doting on her jewel,--\n    Her jewel in a golden cradle set;\n    Opening and shutting which her day's delight,\n    To gaze upon his heart-inflaming cheek--\n    Upon the darling whom, could she, she would\n    Have cradled as the baby of her eye.\n    In rose and musk she wash'd him--to his lips\n    Press'd the pure sugar from the honeycomb;\n    And when, day over, she withdrew her milk,\n    She made, and having laid him in, his bed,\n    Burn'd all night like a taper o'er his head.\n\n    Then still as morning came, and as he grew,\n    She dressed him like a little idol up;\n    On with his robe--with fresh collyrium dew\n    Touch'd his narcissus eyes--the musky locks\n    Divided from his forehead--and embraced\n    With gold and ruby girdle his fine waist.\n\n\n\n\n    \"THE MOON AND ROSES\"\n\n    Sat a lover solitary\n    Self-discoursing in a corner,\n    Passionate and ever-changing\n    Invocation pouring out:\n    Sometimes sun and moon; and sometimes\n    Under hyacinth half-hidden\n    Roses; or the lofty cypress,\n    And the little weed below.\n    Nightingaling thus a noodle\n    Heard him, and, completely puzzled,--\n    \"What!\" quoth he, \"and you, a lover,\n    Raving not about your mistress,\n    But about the moon and roses!\"\n\n    Answer'd he: \"O thou that aimest\n    Wide of love, and lover's language\n    Wholly misinterpreting;\n    Sun and moon are but my lady's\n    Self, as any lover knows;\n    Hyacinth I said, and meant her\n    Hair--her cheek was in the rose--\n    And I myself the wretched weed\n    That in her cypress shadow grows.\"\n\n\n\n\n    THE WILES OF ABS\u00c1L\n\n    Now from her hair would twine a musky chain,\n    To bind his heart--now twist it into curls\n    Nestling innumerable temptations;\n    Doubled the darkness of her eyes with surma\n    To make him lose his way, and over them\n    Adorn'd the bows that were to shoot him then;\n    Fresh rose, and then a grain of musk lay there,\n    The bird of the beloved heart to snare.\n    Now to the rose-leaf of her cheek would add,\n    Now with a laugh would break the ruby seal\n    That, lockt up pearl; or busied in the room\n    Would smite her hand, perhaps--on that pretence\n    To lift and show the silver in her sleeve;\n    Or hastily rising, dash her golden anklets\n    To draw the crowned head under her feet.\n    Thus by innumerable bridal wiles\n    She went about soliciting his eyes,\n    Which she would scarce let lose her for a moment;\n    For well she knew that mainly by the eye\n    Love makes his sign, and by no other road\n    Enters and takes possession of the heart.\n\n\n\n\n    LOVE'S EARTHLY WAY\n\n    Now when Sal\u00e1m\u00e1n's heart turned to Abs\u00e1l,\n    Her star was happy in the heavens--old Love\n    Put forth afresh--Desire doubled his bond:\n    And of the running time she watch'd an hour\n    To creep into the mansion of her moon\n    And satiate her soul upon his lips.\n    And the hour came; she stole into his chamber--\n    Ran up to him, Life's offer in her hand--\n    And, falling like a shadow at his feet,\n    She laid her face beneath. Sal\u00e1m\u00e1n then\n    With all the courtesies of princely grace\n    Put forth his hand--he rais'd her in his arms--\n    He held her trembling there--and from that fount\n    Drew first desire; then deeper from her lips,\n    That, yielding, mutually drew from his\n    A wine that ever drawn from never fail'd.\n    So through the day--so through another still.\n    The day became a seventh--the seventh a moon--\n    The moon a year--while they rejoiced together,\n    Thinking their pleasure never was to end.\n    But rolling Heaven whisper'd from his ambush,\n    \"So in my license is it not set down.\n    Ah for the sweet societies I make\n    At morning and before the nightfall break!\n    Ah for that bliss that with the setting sun\n    I mix, and, with his rising, all is done!\"\n\n\n\n\n    REASON\n\n    Reason that rights the retrograde--completes\n    The imperfect--reason that unites the knot;\n    For reason is the fountain from of old\n    From which the prophets drew, and none beside.\n    Who boasts of other inspiration lies--\n    There are no other prophets than the wise.\n\n\n\n\n    THE MOON OF LOVE\n\n    O Shah, I am the slave of thy desire,\n    Dust of thy throne, ascending foot am I;\n    Whatever thou desirest I would do,\n    But sicken of my own incompetence;\n    Not in the hand of my infirmer will\n    To carry into deed mine own desire.\n    Time upon time I torture mine own soul,\n    Devising liberation from the snare\n    I languish in. But when upon that moon\n    I _think_, my soul relapses; and when _look_--\n    I leave both worlds behind to follow her!\n\n\n\n\n    LOVE\n\n                 Without my lover,\n    Were my chamber Heaven's horizon,\n    It were closer than an ant's eye;\n    And the ant's eye wider were\n    Than Heaven, my lover with me there!\n\n\n\n\n    MORTAL PARAMOUR\n\n    The Almighty hand that mix'd thy dust inscribed\n    The character of wisdom on thy heart;\n    O cleanse thy bosom of material form,\n    And turn the mirror of the soul to spirit,\n    Until it be with spirit all possest,\n    Crown'd in the light of intellectual truth.\n    O veil thine eyes from mortal paramour,\n    And follow not her step! For what is she?--\n    What is she but a vice and a reproach,\n    Her very garment-hem pollution!\n    For such pollution madden not thine eyes,\n    Waste not thy body's strength, nor taint thy soul,\n    Nor set the body and the soul in strife!\n    Supreme is thine original degree,\n    Thy star upon the top of heaven; but lust\n    Will fling it down even unto the dust!\n\n\n\n\n    THE DIVINE UNION\n\n    Whisper'd one to W\u00e1mik, \"O thou\n    Victim of the wound of Azra,\n    What is it like, that a shadow\n    Movest thou about in silence\n    Meditating night and day?\"\n    W\u00e1mik answer'd, \"Even this--\n    To fly with Azra to the desert:\n    There by so remote a fountain\n    That, whichever way one travell'd\n    League on league, one yet should never,\n    Never meet the face of man--\n    There to pitch my tent--for ever\n    There to gaze on my Belov\u00e8d;\n    Gaze, till gazing out of gazing\n    Grew to being her I gaze on,\n    She and I no more, but in one\n    Undivided being blended.\n    All that is not One must ever\n    Suffer with the wound of absence;\n    And whoever in Love's city\n    Enters, finds but room for One,\n    And but in Oneness Union.\"\n\n\n\n\n    \"DO WELL\"\n\n    Do well, that in thy turn well may betide thee;\n    And turn from ill, that ill may turn beside thee.\n\n\n\n\n    THE MAGIC MIRROR\n\n    Then bade he bring a mirror that he had,\n    A mirror, like the bosom of the wise,\n    Reflecting all the world, and lifting up\n    The veil from all its secret, good and evil.\n    That mirror bade he bring, and, in its face\n    Looking, beheld the face of his Desire,\n    He saw those lovers in the solitude,\n    Turn'd from the world, and all its ways and people,\n    And looking only in each other's eyes,\n    And never finding any sorrow there.\n\n\n\n\n    A LAMENT\n\n    O thou whose presence so long sooth'd my soul,\n    Now burnt with thy remembrance! O so long\n    The light that fed these eyes now dark with tears!\n    O long, long home of love now lost for ever!\n    We were together--that was all enough--\n    We two rejoicing in each other's eyes,\n    Infinitely rejoicing--all the world\n    Nothing to us, nor we to all the world:\n    No road to reach us, nor an eye to watch--\n    All day we whisper'd in each other's ears,\n    All night we slept in one another's arms--\n    All seem'd to our desire, as if the hand\n    Of unjust Fortune were for once too short.\n    O would to God that when I lit the pyre\n    The flame had left thee living and me dead,\n    Not living worse than dead, depriv'd of thee!\n    O were I but with thee! at any cost\n    Stript of this terrible self-solitude!\n    O but with thee annihilation--lost,\n    Or in eternal intercourse renew'd!\n\n\n\n\n    \"THE HARVEST OF ETERNITY\"\n\n    My son, the kingdom of the world is not\n    Eternal, nor the sum of right desire!\n    Make thou the faith-preserving intellect\n    Thy counsellor; and considering to-day\n    To-morrow's seed-field, ere that come to bear\n    Sow with the harvest of eternity.\n\n\n\n\n\nSELECTIONS FROM THE L\u00c1WA'IH\n\n    Believe me, I am naught--yea, less than naught,\n    By naught and less than naught what can be taught?\n    I tell the mysteries of truth, but know\n    Naught save the telling to this task I brought.\n                                              LAW\u00c1'IH.\n\n\n      \"DELIVER US FROM OURSELVES\"\n\n      O God, deliver us from preoccupation with worldly\n      vanities, and show us the nature of things \"as\n      they really are.\" Remove from our eyes the veil\n      of ignorance, and show us things as they really\n      are. Show not to us non-existence as existent, nor\n      cast the veil of non-existence over the beauty of\n      existence. Make this phenomenal world the mirror to\n      reflect the manifestations of thy beauty, and not\n      a veil to separate and repel us from Thee. Cause\n      these unreal phenomena of the universe to be for us\n      the sources of knowledge and insight, and not the\n      cause of ignorance and blindness. Our alienation and\n      severance from Thy beauty all proceed from ourselves.\n      Deliver us from ourselves, and accord to us intimate\n      knowledge of Thee.\n\n\n\n    \"MAKE MY HEART PURE\"\n\n    Make my heart pure, my soul from error free,\n    Make tears and sighs my daily lot to be,\n      And lead me on Thy road away from self,\n    That lost to self I may approach to Thee!\n\n    Set enmity between the world and me,\n    Make me averse from worldly company:\n      From other objects turn away my heart,\n    So that it is engrossed with love to Thee.\n\n    How were it, Lord, if Thou should'st set me free\n    From error's grasp and cause me truth to see?\n      Guebres[1] by scores Thou makest Musulmans,\n    Why, then, not make a Musulman of me?\n\n    My lust for this world and the next efface,\n    Grant me the crown of poverty and grace\n      To be partaker in Thy mysteries,\n    From paths that lead not towards Thee turn my face.\n\n\n    ONE HEART, ONE LOVE\n\n    O votary of earthly idols' fane,\n    Why let these veils of flesh enwrap thy brain?\n      'Tis folly to pursue a host of loves;\n    A single heart can but one love contain!\n\n    O thou whose heart is torn by lust for all,\n    Yet vainly strives to burst these bonds of all,\n      This \"all\" begets distraction of the heart:\n    Give up thy heart to ONE and break with all.[2]\n\n\n      \"THE ABSOLUTE BEAUTY\"\n\n      The Absolute Beauty is the Divine Majesty endued\n      with [the attributes of] power and bounty. Every\n      beauty and perfection manifested in the theatre of\n      the various grades of beings is a ray of His perfect\n      beauty reflected therein. It is from these rays that\n      exalted souls have received their impress of beauty\n      and their quality of perfection. Whosoever is wise\n      derives his wisdom from Divine wisdom.\n\n\n\n    \"MY LOVE STOOD BY ME AT THE DAWN OF DAY\"\n\n    My love stood by me at the dawn of day,\n    And said, \"To grief you make my heart a prey\n      Whilst I am casting looks of love at you,\n    Have you no shame to turn your eyes away?\"\n\n    All my life long I tread love's path of pain,\n    If peradventure \"Union\" I may gain.\n      Better to catch one moment's glimpse of Thee\n    Than earthly beauties' love through life retain.\n\n\n      GOD THE ONLY LOVE ETERNAL\n\n      Yesterday this universe neither existed nor appeared\n      to exist, while to-day it appears to exist but has no\n      real existence: it is a mere semblance, and to-morrow\n      nothing thereof will be seen. What does it profit\n      thee to allow thyself to be guided by vain passions\n      and desires? Why dost thou place reliance on these\n      transitory objects that glitter with false lustre?\n      Turn thy heart away from all of them, and firmly\n      attach it to God. Break loose from all these, and\n      cleave closely to Him. It is only He who always has\n      been and always will continue to be. The countenance\n      of His eternity is never scarred by the thorn of\n      contingency.\n\n\n\n    FINITE AND INFINITE BEAUTY\n\n    The Loved One's rose-parterre I went to see,\n    That beauty's Torch espied me, and, quoth He,\n      \"I am the tree; these flowers My offshoots are.\n    Let not these offshoots hide from thee the tree.\"\n\n    What profit rosy cheeks, forms full of grace,\n    And ringlets clustering round a lovely face?\n      When Beauty Absolute beams all around,\n    Why linger finite beauties to embrace?\n\n\n      HOW TO OBTAIN UNION WITH THE DIVINE\n\n      In like manner, as it behoves thee to maintain\n      the said relation continuously, so it is of the\n      first importance to develop one quality thereof by\n      detaching thyself from mundane relations and by\n      emancipating thyself from attention to contingent\n      forms; and this is possible only through hard\n      striving and earnest endeavour to expel vain thoughts\n      and imaginations from thy mind. The more these\n      thoughts are cast out and these suggestions checked,\n      the stronger and closer this relation becomes. It\n      is, then, necessary to use every endeavour to force\n      these thoughts to encamp outside the enclosure of\n      thy breast, and that the \"Truth\" most glorious may\n      cast His beams into thy heart, and deliver thee\n      from thyself, and save thee from the trouble of\n      entertaining His rivals in thy heart. Then there\n      will abide with-thee neither consciousness of\n      thyself, nor even consciousness of such absence of\n      consciousness--nay, there will abide nothing save the\n      One God alone.\n\n\n\n    TRUTH\n\n    In the fair idols, goal of ardent youth,\n    And in all cynosures lies hid the \"Truth\";\n      What, seen as relative, appears the world,\n    Viewed in its essence is the very \"Truth.\"\n\n    When in His partial modes Truth shone out plain,\n    Straightway appeared this world of loss and gain;\n      Were it and all who dwell there gathered back\n    Into the Whole, the \"Truth\" would still remain.\n\n\n    \"THE GLORIOUS GOD\"\n\n    The glorious God, whose bounty, mercy, grace,\n    And loving-kindness all the world embrace,\n      At every moment brings a world to naught,\n    And fashions such another in its place.\n\n    All gifts soever unto God are due,\n    Yet special gifts from special \"Names\" ensue;\n      At every breath one \"Name\" annihilates,\n    And one creates all outward things anew.[3]\n\n\n    THE GOD BEHIND THE VEIL\n\n    \"O fairest rose, with rosebud mouth,\" I sighed,\n    \"Why, like coquettes, thy face for ever hide?\"\n      He smiled, \"Unlike the beauties of the earth,\n    Even when veiled I still may be described.\"\n\n    Thy face uncovered would be all too bright,\n    Without a veil none could endure the sight;\n      What eye is strong enough to gaze upon\n    The dazzling splendour of the fount of light?\n\n    When the sun's banner blazes in the sky,\n    Its light gives pain by its intensity,\n      But when 'tis tempered by a veil of cloud\n    That light is soft and pleasant to the eye.\n\n\n      THE DIVINE SELF-SUFFICIENCY\n\n      Absolute self-sufficiency is a quality involved in\n      Divine Perfection. It signifies this, that in a\n      general and universal manner all the modes, states,\n      and aspects of the One Real Being, with all their\n      adherent properties and qualities, in all their\n      presentations, past, present, or future, manifested\n      in all grades of substances, divine and mundane, are\n      present and realised in the secret thought of that\n      Divine Being, in such wise that the sum of them all\n      is contained in His Unity. From this point of view\n      He is independent of all other existences; as it is\n      said, \"God most glorious can do without the world.\"\n\n\n\n    OUR NEED OF THE BELOVED\n\n    O Thou whose sacred precincts none may see,\n    Unseen Thou makest all things seen to be;\n      Thou and we are not separate, yet still\n    Thou hast no need of us, but we of Thee.\n\n    None by endeavour can behold Thy face,\n    Or access gain without prevenient grace;\n      For every man some substitute is found,\n    Thou hast no peer, and none can take Thy place.\n\n    Of accident or substance Thou hast nought,\n    Without constraint of cause Thy grace is wrought;\n      Thou canst replace what's lost, but if Thou'rt lost,\n    In vain a substitute for Thee is sought.\n\n    In me Thy beauty love and longing wrought;\n    Did I not seek Thee, how wouldst Thou be sought?\n      My love is as a mirror in the which\n    Thy beauty into evidence is brought.\n\n    O Lord, none but Thyself can fathom Thee,\n    Yet every mosque and church doth harbour Thee;\n      I know the seekers and what 'tis they seek--\n    Seekers and sought are all comprised in Thee.\n\n\n      THE UNIVERSE A NUMBER OF \"ACCIDENTS\"\n\n      The universe, together with its parts, is nothing\n      but a number of accidents, ever changing and being\n      renewed at every breath, and linked together in a\n      single substance, and at each instant disappearing\n      and being replaced by a similar set. In consequence\n      of this rapid succession, the spectator is deceived\n      into the belief that the universe is a permanent\n      existence.\n\n\n\n    THE HIDDEN TRUTH\n\n    The ocean does not shrink or vaster grow,\n    Though the waves ever ebb and ever flow;\n      The being of the world's a wave: it lasts\n    One moment, and the next it has to go.\n\n    In the world, men of insight may discern\n    A stream whose currents swirl and surge and churn,\n      And from the force that works within the stream\n    The hidden working of the \"Truth\" may learn.\n\n\n    \"THE GREAT IDEALIST\"\n\n    Philosophers devoid of reason find\n    This world a mere idea of the mind;\n    'Tis an idea--but they fail to see\n    The great Idealist who looms behind.\n\n\n    THE SEA OF BEING\n\n    Being's a sea in constant billows rolled,\n    'Tis but these billows that we men behold;\n      Sped from within, they rest upon the sea,\n    And like a veil its actual form enfold.\n\n    Being's the essence of the Lord of all,\n    All things exist in Him and He in all;\n      This is the meaning of the Gnostic phrase,\n    \"All things are comprehended in the All.\"\n\n\n      THE REVELATION OF TRUTH\n\n      The Majesty of the \"Truth\" most glorious is revealed\n      in two manners--the first the inward, subjective\n      revelation, which the S\u00faf\u00eds name \"Most Holy\n      Emanation\"; it consists in the self-manifestation\n      of the \"Truth\" to His own consciousness from all\n      eternity under the forms of substances, their\n      characteristics and capacities. The second revelation\n      is the outward objective manifestation, which\n      is called \"Holy Emanation\"; it consists in the\n      manifestation of the \"Truth,\" with the impress of\n      the properties and marks of the same substances.\n      This second revelation ranks after the first; it\n      is the theatre wherein are manifested to sight the\n      perfections which in the first revelation were\n      contained potentially in the characteristics and\n      capacities of the substances.\n\n\n\n    \"'TIS HE WHO LIVES WITHIN OUR FORMS\"\n\n    Both power and being are denied to us,\n    The lack of both is what's ordained for us;\n      But since 'tis He who lives within our forms,\n    Both power and action are ascribed to us.\n\n    Your \"self\" is non-existent, knowing one!\n    Deem not your actions by yourself are done;\n      Make no wry faces at this wholesome truth--\n    \"Build the wall ere the fresco is begun.\"\n\n    Why vaunt thy \"self\" before those jealous eyes?\n    Why seek to deal in this false merchandise?\n      Why feign to be existent of thyself?\n    Down with these vain conceits and foolish lies!\n\n\n    MIRROR AND FACE\n\n    They say, \"How strange! This peerless beauty's face\n    Within the mirror's heart now holds a place!\"\n      The marvel's not the face, the marvel is\n    That it should be at once mirror and face.\n\n    All mirrors in the universe I ween\n    Display Thy image with its radiant sheen--\n      Nay, in them all, so vast Thy effluent grace,\n    'Tis Thyself, not Thine image, that is seen.\n\n\n[Footnote 1: Magians and Zoroastrians.]\n\n[Footnote 2: The first verse belongs to \"Flash I.,\" the second to\n\"Flash II.,\" but I have thought it wise to couple them together on\naccount of the unity of their meaning.]\n\n[Footnote 3: That is to say that a portion of the material world,\nthrough the mercy of God, is capable of receiving Very Being, and\nthus the phenomenon becomes Very Being externalised. But Omnipotence\nrequires the total destruction of all phenomena and all multiplicity of\nthe same substance. The process is repeated _ad infinitum_.\n\n\"The Names\" are mentioned in the _Masnavi_. See also Professor R. A.\nNicholson's _Divan\u00ed Shamsi Tabr\u00edz_, p. 71.]\n\n\n\n\nSELECTIONS FROM \"Y\u00daSUF AND ZULAIKHA\"\n\n    Lips sweet as sugar on my pen bestow,\n    And from my book let streams of odour flow.\n                              Y\u00daSUF AND ZULAIKHA.\n\n\n    THE COMING OF THE BELOVED\n\n    In solitude, where Being signless dwelt,\n    And all the universe still dormant lay\n    Concealed in selflessness, One Being was\n    Exempt from \"I\" or \"Thou\"-ness, and apart\n    From all duality; Beauty Supreme,\n    Unmanifest, except unto Itself\n    By Its own lights yet fraught with power to charm\n    The souls of all; concealed in the Unseen,\n    An Essence pure, unstained by aught of ill.\n    No mirror to reflect Its loveliness,\n    Nor comb to touch Its locks; the morning breeze\n    Ne'er stirred Its tresses; no collyrium\n    Lent lustre to Its eyes; no rosy cheeks\n    O'ershadowed by dark curls like hyacinth\n    Nor peach-like down were there; no dusky mole\n    Adorned Its face; no eye had yet beheld\n    Its image. To Itself it sang of Love\n    In wordless measures. By Itself it cast\n    The die of Love. But Beauty cannot brook\n    Concealment and the veil, nor patient rest\n    Unseen and unadmired; 'twill burst all bonds,\n    And from Its prison-casement to the world\n    Reveal Itself. See where the tulip grows\n    In upland meadows, how in balmy spring\n    It decks itself; and how amidst its thorns\n    The wild rose rends its garment, and reveals\n    Its loveliness. Thou too, when some rare thought,\n    Or beauteous image, or deep mystery\n    Flashes across thy soul, canst not endure\n    To let it pass, but holdst it, that perchance\n    In speech or writing thou mayst send it forth\n    To charm the world. Whatever beauty dwells,\n    Such is its nature, and its heritage\n    From Everlasting Beauty, which emerged\n    From realms of purity to shine upon\n    The worlds, and all the souls which dwell therein.\n    One gleam fell from It on the universe\n    And on the angels, and this single ray\n    Dazzled the angels, till their senses whirled\n    Like the revolving sky. In diverse forms\n    Each mirror showed it forth, and everywhere\n    Its praise was chanted in new harmonies.\n    The cherubim, enraptured, sought for songs\n    Of praise. The spirits who explore the depths\n    Of boundless seas, wherein the heavens swim\n    Like some small boat, cried with one mighty voice,\n    \"Praise to the Lord of all the universe!\"\n\n\n    \"BEHOLD THOSE SPHERES\"\n\n    Behold those spheres for ever circling, bound\n    With-scarves of azure, in their mystic round.\n    See, their light mantles loosely floating throw\n    A flood of radiance on the world below.\n    See them pursuing through the night and day,\n    True to their purpose, their triumphant way.\n    Each, like a player's ball obedient, still\n    Is moved and guided by superior will.\n    One eastward from the west its journey bends,\n    The other's ship to western waves descends.\n    Each in due progress with alternate sway\n    Lights the still night or cheers the busy day.\n    One writes fair lines that promise golden joys:\n    One with sad aspect bonds of bliss destroys.\n    All, joying in their might, their task renew,\n    And with untiring haste their course pursue.\n    Onward for ever to the goal they press\n    With feet and loins that know not weariness.\n    Who learns the secret of their dark intent?\n    Who knows on whom each wanderer's face is bent?\n\n\n    LOVE\n\n    No heart is that which love ne'er wounded: they\n    Who know not lovers' pangs are soulless clay.\n    Turn from the world, O turn thy wandering feet;\n    Come to the world of Love and find it sweet.\n\n\n    THE WAYS OF LOVE\n\n    Once to his master a disciple cried:--\n    \"To wisdom's pleasant path be thou my guide.\"\n    \"Hast thou ne'er loved?\" the master answered; \"learn\n    The ways of love and then to me return.\"\n    Drink deep of earthly love, that so thy lip\n    May learn the wine of holier love to sip.\n    But let not form too long thy soul entrance:\n    Pass o'er the bridge; with rapid feet advance.\n    If thou wilt rest, thine ordered journey sped,\n    Forbear to linger at the bridge's head.\n\n\n    \"IF THE SUN'S SPLENDOUR NEVER DIED AWAY\"\n\n    In this orchestra full of vain deceit\n    The drum of Being, each in turn, we beat.\n    Each morning brings new truth to light and fame,\n    And on the world falls lustre from a name.\n    If in one constant course the ages rolled,\n    Full many a secret would remain untold.\n    If the sun's splendour never died away,\n    Ne'er would the market of the stars be gay.\n    If in our gardens endless frost were king,\n    No rose would blossom at the kiss of Spring.\n\n\n    THE BEAUTY OF ZULAIKHA\n\n    Her face was the garden of Iram, where\n    Roses of every hue are fair.\n    The dusky moles that enhanced the red\n    Were like Moorish boys playing in each rose-bed.\n    Of silver that paid no tithe, her chin\n    Had a well with the Water of Life therein.\n    If a sage in his thirst came near to drink,\n    He would feel the spray ere he reached the brink,\n    But lost were his soul if he nearer drew,\n    For it was a well and a whirlpool too.\n    Her neck was of ivory. Thither drawn,\n    Came with her tribute to beauty the fawn;\n    And the rose hung her head at the gleam of the skin\n    Of shoulders fairer than jasmine.\n    Her breasts were orbs of a light most pure,\n    Twin bubbles new-risen from fount Kafur,[1]\n    Two young pomegranates grown on one spray,\n    Where bold hope never a ringer might lay.\n    The touchstone itself was proved false when it tried\n    Her arms' fine silver thrice purified;\n    But the pearl-pure amulets fastened there\n    Were the hearts of the holy absorbed in prayer.\n\n\n    SELF DIES IN LOVE\n\n    \"I shall roll up the carpet of life when I see\n    Thy dear face again, and shall cease to be,\n    For self will be lost in that rapture, and all\n    The threads of my thought from my hand will fall;\n    Not me wilt thou find, for this self will have fled:\n    Thou wilt be my soul in mine own soul's stead.\n    All thought of self will be swept from my mind,\n    And thee, only thee, in my place shall I find;\n    More precious than heaven, than earth more dear,\n    Myself were forgotten if thou wert near.\"\n\n\n    \"MINE EYES HAVE BEEN TOUCHED\"\n\n    \"Mine eyes have been touched by the Truth's pure ray,\n    And the dream of folly has passed away.\n    Mine eyes thou hast opened--God bless thee for it!--\n    And my heart to the Soul of the soul thou hast knit.\n\n    From a fond strange love thou hast turned my feet\n    The Lord of all creatures to know and meet;\n    If I bore a tongue in each single hair,\n    Each and all should thy praise declare.\"\n\n\n    ZULAIKHA PLEADS WITH Y\u00daSUF FOR HIS LOVE\n\n    \"By the excellent bloom of that cheek which He gave,\n    By that beauty which makes the whole world thy slave;\n    By the splendour that beams from that beautiful brow,\n    That bids the full moon to thy majesty bow;\n    By the graceful gait of that cypress, by\n    The delicate bow that is bent o'er thine eye;\n    By that arch of the temple devoted to prayer,\n    By each fine-woven mesh of the coils of thy hair;\n    By that charming narcissus, that form arrayed\n    In the sheen and glory of silk brocade;\n    By that secret thou callest a mouth, by the hair\n    Thou callest the waist of that body most fair\n    By the musky spots on thy cheek's pure rose,\n    By the smile of thy lips when those buds unclose,\n    By my longing tears, by the sigh and groan\n    That rend my heart as I pine alone;\n    By thine absence, a mountain too heavy to bear,\n    By my thousand fetters of grief and care;\n    By the sovereign sway of my passion, by\n    My carelessness whether I live or die;\n    Pity me, pity my lovelorn grief:\n    Loosen my fetters and grant relief:\n    An age has scorched me since over my soul\n    The soft sweet air of thy garden stole.\n    Be the balm of my wounds for a little; shed\n    Sweet scent on the heart where the flowers are dead\n    I hunger for thee till my whole frame is weak:\n    O give me the food for my soul which I seek.\"\n\n\n    THE HORSE OF Y\u00daSUF\n\n    In his stalls had Y\u00fasuf a fairy steed,\n    A courser through space of no earthly breed;\n    Swift as the heavens, and black and white\n    With a thousand patches of day and night;\n    Now a jetty spot, now a starry blaze,\n    Like Time with succession of nights and days.\n    With his tail the heavenly Virgo's hair,\n    With his hoof the moon, was afraid to compare.\n    Each foot with a golden new moon was shod,\n    And the stars of its nails struck the earth as he trod.\n    When his hoof smote sharp on the rugged flint\n    A planet flashed forth from the new moon's dint;\n    And a new moon rose in the sky when a shoe\n    From the galloping foot of the courser flew.\n    Like an arrow shot through its side in the chase.\n    He outstripped the game in the deadly race.\n    At a single bound he would spring, unpressed,\n    With the lightning's speed from the east to the west.\n\n\n    THE FREEING OF ZULAIKHA'S SOUL\n\n    \"O thou who hast broken mine honour's urn,\n    Thou stone of offence wheresoever I turn,\n    I should smite--for thy falsehood has ruined my rest--\n    With the stone thou art made of, the heart in my breast.\n    The way of misfortune too surely I trod\n    When I bowed down before thee and made thee my god;\n    When I looked up to thee with wet eyes in my woe,\n    I renounced all the bliss which both worlds can bestow.\n    From thy stony dominion my soul will I free,\n    And thus shatter the gem of thy power and thee.\"\n\n\n    BREAKING THE IDOL\n\n    With a hard flint stone, like the Friend,[2] as she spoke,\n    In a thousand pieces the image she broke.\n    Riven and shattered the idol fell,\n    And with her from that moment shall all be well.\n    She made her ablution, 'mid penitent sighs,\n    With the blood of her heart and the tears of her eyes.\n    She bent down her head to the dust; with a moan\n    She made supplication to God's pure throne:--\n    \"O God, who lovest the humble, Thou\n    To whom idols, their makers, their servants bow;\n    'Tis to the light which Thy splendour lends\n    To the idol's face that its worshipper bends.\n    Thy love the heart of the sculptor stirs,\n    And the idol is graven for worshippers.\n    They bow them down to the image, and think\n    That they worship Thee as before it they sink.\n    To myself, O Lord, I have done this wrong,\n    If mine eyes to an idol have turned so long.\n         * * * * * * * * * * * * * *\n    Thou hast washed the dark stain of my sin away;\n    Now restore the lost blessing for which I pray.\n    May I feel my heart free from the brand of its woes,\n    And cull from the garden of Y\u00fasuf a rose.\"\n\n\n    Y\u00daSUF AND ZULAIKHA MEET AGAIN\n\n    \"Where is thy youth, and thy beauty, and pride?\"\n    \"Gone, since I parted from thee!\" she replied.\n    \"Where is the light of thine eye?\" said he,\n    \"Drowned in blood-tears for the loss of thee.\"\n    \"Why is that cypress tree bowed and bent?\"\n    \"By absence from thee and my long lament.\"\n    \"Where is thy pearl, and thy silver and gold,\n    And the diadem bright on thy head of old?\"\n    \"She who spoke of my loved one,\" she answered, \"shed,\n    In the praise of thy beauty, rare pearls on my head.\n    In return for those jewels, a recompense meet,\n    I scattered my jewels and gold at her feet.\n    A crown of pure gold on her forehead I set,\n    And the dust that she trod was my coronet.\n    The stream of my treasure of gold ran dry;\n    My heart is Love's storehouse, and I am I.\"\n\n\n    ZULAIKHA'S YOUTH RETURNS\n\n    The beauty returned which was ruined and dead,\n    And her cheek gained the splendour which long I had fled.\n    Again shone the waters which sad years had dried,\n    And the rose-bed of youth bloomed again in its pride.\n    The musk was restored and the camphor withdrawn,\n    And the black night followed the grey of the dawn,\n    The cypress rose stately and tall as of old:\n    The pure silver was free from all wrinkle and fold.\n    From each musky tress fled the traces of white:\n    To the black narcissus came beauty and light.\n\n\n    ZULAIKHA'S WISH\n\n    \"The one sole wish of my heart,\" she replied,\n    \"Is still to be near thee, to sit by thy side;\n    To have thee by day in my happy sight,\n    And to lay my cheek on thy foot at night;\n    To lie in the shade of the cypress and sip\n    The sugar that lies on thy ruby lip;\n    To my wounded heart this soft balm to lay;\n    For naught beyond this can I wish or pray.\n    The streams of thy love will new life bestow\n    On the dry thirsty field where its sweet waters flow.\"\n\n\n    UNITED\n\n    Thus spoke the Angel: \"To thee, O King,\n    From the Lord Almighty a message I bring:\n    'Mine eyes have seen her in humble mood;\n    I heard her prayer when to thee she sued.\n    At the sight of her labours, her prayers, and sighs,\n    The waves of the sea of my pity rise.\n    Her soul from the sword of despair I free,\n    And here from My throne I betroth her to thee.'\"\n\n\n[Footnote 1: A well in Paradise.]\n\n[Footnote 2: Abraham.]\n\n\n\n\nSELECTIONS FROM THE \"BAH\u00c1RIST\u00c1N\"\n\n(\"ABODE OF SPRING\")\n\n\n    Take a walk in this Bah\u00e1rist\u00e1n [Abode of Spring]\n    That you may see therein Gulist\u00e1n [rose-groves]\n    With gracefulness in each Gulist\u00e1n,\n    Flowers growing and aromatic plants blooming.\n                                          BAH\u00c1RIST\u00c1N.\n\n\n    TO THE READER OF THE \"BAH\u00c1RIST\u00c1N\"\n\n    Let every fortunate man who of these blooming trees\n    The shade enjoys, or the fruit consumes,\n    Act according to the laws of righteousness,\n    Walk on the road of generosity and pray thus:\n    May _J\u00e1m\u00ed_, who planted this garden, O Lord,\n    Be always full of God and empty of self.[1]\n    May he travel on no other path but His, and seek no other _Union_[2]\n        but His;\n    Nor utter another name but His, nor see another face but His.\n\n\n    SONG IN PRAISE OF THE BELOVED\n\n    To the Maker!--the rose-grove of the sphere\n    Is but one leaf of the flower-garden of. His creation--\n    That those who sing His praises\n    May have a plate of pearls and jewels full of oblations!\n    May the magnitude of His glory shine, and the world of His perfection\n        be exalted!\n\n      A thousand chants of salutation and greeting from\n      the philomels of the garden-mansion of _Union_ and\n      benevolence, who are the musicians of the assembly of\n      witnesses and songsters in the delightful house of\n      _Ecstasy_[3] and benevolence.\n\n\n\nFIRST GARDEN\n\n\n    \"FOR THEE\"\n\n    For Thee we have hastened across land and sea,\n    Have passed over plains, and mountains climbed,\n    Have turned away from whatever we met\n    Until we found the way to the sanctuary of Union with Thee.\n\n\n    PRIDE\n\n    Boast not of having no pride, because it is more invisible\n    Than the mark of an ant's foot on a black rock in a dark night;\n    Think it not easy to extirpate it from thy heart,\n    For it is more easy to root up a mountain from the earth with a needle.\n\n\n    \"I CANNOT BE FAR FROM THY DOOR\"\n\n    Beloved! I cannot be far from Thy door,\n    Cannot be satisfied with Paradise and with houris.\n    My head is on Thy threshold by Love's command, not for wages.\n    Whatever I may do, I cannot bear to be away from this door.\n\n\n    FRIENDSHIP\n\n    He is a friend, who although meeting with enmity\n    From his friend, only becomes more attached to him.\n    If he strikes him with a thousand stones of violence,\n    The edifice of his love will only be made more firm by them.\n\n\nSECOND GARDEN\n\n\n    \"A SECRET\"\n\n    O boy! A secret necessary to be concealed from a foe\n    Thou wilt do well not to reveal it even to a friend.\n    I have seen many who in course of capricious time\n    Became foes from friends, and amity to enmity turned.\n\n\n    \"THE INDISPENSABLE KNOWLEDGE\"\n\n    Cultivate the knowledge which is indispensable to you,\n    And seek not that which you can dispense with.\n    From the moment you acquire the indispensable knowledge,\n    You must not desire to act except in accordance therewith.\n\n\n    SILENCE\n\n    No one repented for keeping a secret under seal,\n    But many for having revealed it.\n    Remain silent, because to sit quietly with a collected mind\n    Is better than speaking what will distract it.\n\n\n      OCCUPATION ENNOBLED BY A GREAT MAN\n\n      Alexander degraded one of his officials by removing\n      him from a high and employing him in a low post. One\n      day this man waited upon Alexander, who asked him\n      what he thought of his occupation, and he replied:\n      \"May the life of my Lord be long! A man is not\n      ennobled by a great occupation, but an occupation\n      is ennobled by a great man. In every post honesty,\n      justice and equity are needed.\" Alexander was pleased\n      with this opinion, and re-installed him in his former\n      office.\n\n\n\nTHIRD GARDEN\n\n\n    WISE MAXIMS\n\n    Every [wise], maxim by the mouth and teeth is a jewel:\n    Happy is he who has made of his breast a casket of jewels;\n    A sage is a treasury of the jewels of philosophy,\n    Do not separate thyself from this treasure.\n\n      THE DOWNFALL OF THE MIGHTY\n\n      The favourites of Sult\u00e1ns are like people climbing\n      up a precipitous mountain, and falling off from\n      it in consequence of the quakes of anger and the\n      vicissitudes of time. There is no doubt that the fall\n      of those who are higher up is more disastrous than\n      the coming down of those who are in lower positions.\n\n\n      JUSTICE AND VIRTUE\n\n      A culprit having been brought before the Khalifa, he\n      ordered the punishment due to the transgression to be\n      administered. The prisoner said: \"O Commander of the\n      Faithful, to take vengeance for a crime is justice,\n      but to pass it over is virtue; and the magnanimity of\n      the Prince of the Faithful is more exalted, than that\n      he should disregard what is higher, and descend to\n      what is lower.\" The Khalifa, being pleased with his\n      argument, condoned his transgression.\n\n\n      THE WOMAN WHO WAS ASHAMED TO LOOK AT A MAN WHOM GOD\n      HAD FORSAKEN\n\n      A woman who belonged to the faction which had risen\n      in arms against Hajaj, having been brought before\n      him, he spoke to her, but she looked down, and fixing\n      her eyes upon the ground, neither replied, nor\n      glanced at him. One who was present said: \"O woman,\n      the Amir is speaking, and thou lookest away?\" She\n      replied: \"I am ashamed before God the Most High, to\n      look on a man, upon whom God the Most High does not\n      look.\"\n\n\n      HOW ALEXANDER ACQUIRED HIS POWER\n\n      Alexander having been asked by what means he had\n      attained such dominion, power, and glory at so\n      youthful an age and during so short a reign, replied:\n      \"By conciliating foes till they turned away from the\n      path of enmity, and by strengthening the alliances\n      with friends till they became firm in the bonds of\n      amity.\"\n\n\n\nFOURTH GARDEN\n\n\n    \"THE VALUE OF A MAN\"\n\n    The price of a man consists not in silver and gold;\n    The value of a man is his power and virtue.\n    Many a slave has by acquiring virtue\n    Attained much greater power than a gentleman,\n    And many a gentleman has for want of virtue\n    Become _inferior_[4] to his own slave.\n\n\n      LIBERALITY\n\n      It is on record that 'Abdullah Ibn Ja'far (may Allah\n      be pleased with him!) intended one day to travel,\n      and approaching a date-grove where he had seen some\n      persons, he alighted. The guardian of the trees\n      happened to be a black slave, to whom two loaves\n      of bread had just been sent from the house; and as\n      a dog stood near him, he threw one of the loaves\n      to it, which having been devoured by the animal,\n      he gave away also the other, and the dog likewise\n      consumed it. Then 'Abdullah (may Allah be pleased\n      with him!) asked what his daily allowance was. The\n      slave replied: \"What thou hast seen.\" \"Then why hast\n      thou not kept it for thyself?\" \"The dog is a stranger\n      here; I thought he had come from a long distance and\n      was hungry, wherefore I did not mean to leave him in\n      that condition.\" \"Then what wilt thou eat to-day?\"\n      \"I shall fast.\" Then 'Abdullah said to himself:\n      \"Everybody is blaming me for my liberality, and this\n      slave is more liberal than myself.\" Then he purchased\n      both the slave and the date-grove, presenting him\n      with the latter, and emancipating him.\n\n\n\n    \"LEARN THOU BRAVERY!\"\n\n    O brave man, learn thou bravery!\n    From men of the world learn manliness.\n    Preserve thy heart from the remorse of remorse-seekers;\n    Preserve thy tongue from the blame of evil-speakers.\n    Requite with good him who did thee evil,\n    Because by that evil he injured his own prosperity.\n    If thou makest beneficence thy rule\n    The good thou doest will return only to thee.\n\n\n      SELF-SACRIFICE\n\n      One night a great mosque in Egypt, having caught\n      fire, was burnt. The Musulmans suspected that\n      Christians had committed the act, and in revenge\n      put fire to their houses, which consumed them. The\n      Sult\u00e1n of Egypt had the persons captured who burnt\n      these houses, and having assembled them in one spot,\n      ordered notes to be distributed among them, on some\n      of which a sentence of death to the bearer was\n      written, on some to cut off his hands, and on some\n      to whip him. These notes having been thrown to the\n      culprits and been picked up by them, each of them\n      underwent the punishment which had fallen to his lot.\n      One, to whom the sentence of death had been awarded,\n      said: \"I do not fear to be killed, but I have a\n      mother, of whom no one will take care except myself.\"\n      Near him stood a man who was to be punished by\n      whippings but they exchanged their notes, the latter\n      saying: \"I have no mother, let me be killed instead\n      of him, and him be whipped instead of me,\" and this\n      was done.\n\n\n      GALLANTRY AND HUMOUR\n\n      An Arab of the desert welcomed the arrival of an Arab\n      chief in a Qas\u00edda recited by him, which terminated in\n      the following [Arabic] distich:\n\n\n    Stretch out thy hand to me, the palm whereof\n    Distributes largesses, and its back is kissed.\n\n      Accordingly the generous man held out his hand to be\n      kissed by the Arab, whereon he said by way of a joke:\n      \"The hairs upon thy lips have scratched my hand.\"\n      The Arab replied: \"What injury can the bristles of a\n      porcupine inflict upon the paw of a formidable lion?\"\n      This sally pleased the liberal man, who said: \"I like\n      this better than the Qas\u00edda,\" and ordered him to be\n      rewarded for it with 1,000 and for the sally 3,000\n      _dirhams_.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nFIFTH GARDEN\n\n\n    A LOVERS' DIALOGUE\n\n    _Maiden:_\n    By God, who openly and secretly\n    Is worshipped by men and fairies,\n    I swear that of all whom I see in the world\n    No one is dearer to me than thou.\n\n    _Youth:_\n\n    O thou who sawest me, and residest in my heart,\n    Soul and body, all now belong to thee.\n    If my heart inclines to thee it is no wonder;\n    It must be a stone, not a heart, which turns not to thee!\n\n      'The girl said that now her only wish in the world\n      was that they should put their hands round each\n      other's waists, and eat sugar from the lips of each\n      other. The youth replied: \"My desire is the same,\n      but what can I do? As God the Most High says: 'The\n      intimate friends on that day shall be enemies unto\n      one another, except the pious,' which means that\n      on the day of resurrection friendship of friends\n      will become enmity, except the friendship of the\n      abstemious, which will increase the attachment. I do\n      not wish that on the morn of resurrection the edifice\n      of our love be impaired, and our friendship be turned\n      into enmity.\" After saying these words, he departed,\n      reciting the following:\n\n\n    O heart, abandon this love of two days,\n    Because a love of two days profits not;\n    Choose a love wherewith on the day of reckoning\n    Thou mayest abide in the eternal abode.\n\n\n    A KIND FRIEND\n\n    O heart, when a time of sorrow overtakes thee\n    There will be no sorrow if thou hast a kind friend;\n    For a day of trouble a friend is required,\n    Because in times of comfort, friends are not scarce.\n\n\n      A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN\n\n      A beautiful woman had many admirers, whose attentions\n      were so assiduous that the very street in which she\n      lived became thronged by her visitors, but when her\n      attractions disappeared and she had become ugly, her\n      lovers abandoned her. Then I said to one of them:\n      \"She is the same friend as before, with the same\n      eyes, brows, lips, but perhaps her stature is more\n      tall and her body more stout. It is faithless and\n      treacherous on thy part to neglect her.\" He replied:\n      \"Alas for what thou sayest! That which ravished the\n      heart, and enthralled the senses, was the spirit\n      which resided in her form, in the gracefulness of\n      her limbs, the smoothness of her skin, and in the\n      pleasantness of her voice, but as that spirit has\n      departed from the figure, how can I love a dead body,\n      or fondle a withered rose?\"\n\n\n\nSIXTH GARDEN\n\n\n    JOCULARITY\n\n    If a contented man jokes, blame him not,\n    It is a trade licit by the laws of reason and religion;\n    The heart is a mirror, and vexation the rust on it:\n    That rust is best polished away by jocularity.\n\n      A WEAVER AND A LEARNED PROFESSOR\n\n      A weaver, who had left something in trust with a\n      learned man, desired again to have it back some time\n      afterwards, and going to ask for it, he saw the man\n      sitting in front of his house on the professional\n      couch, with a number of his disciples in front of\n      him. He said: \"Mullana, I am in need of my deposit.\"\n      He replied: \"Wait an hour till I finish my lecture.\"\n      The weaver accordingly took a seat, and, as the\n      lecture proceeded, he observed that the Mullana often\n      shook his head; and thinking that the imparting of\n      the lesson consisted in this, he said: \"O professor,\n      arise and let me take thy place till thy return, and\n      wag my head till thou hast brought out my deposit,\n      because I am in haste.\"\n\n\n\n    A WORD TO THE WISE\n\n    If the gentleman fails to use the hair clipper\n    Daily upon the hirsute countenance,\n    But few days will elapse when his face\n    Will, on account of the hair, pretend to be his head.\n\n\n      THE EXPLICIT BEGGAR\n\n      A mendicant begged at the door of a house, whereon\n      the landlord apologised, saying that the people had\n      gone out, and the beggar rejoined: \"I want a morsel\n      of bread, and net the people of the house.\"\n\n\n      PHANTOM RELATIONS\n\n      A man was visited by a stranger who began\n      complaining, and said: \"Is it possible that thou\n      knowest me not, and dost not consider my claims\n      upon thee?\" The man was amazed, and replied: \"I\n      know nothing of what thou sayest.\" He continued:\n      \"My father desired to wed thy mother, and if he had\n      married her we would be brothers.\" The man rejoined:\n      \"By Allah! This relationship will be the occasion for\n      my becoming thy heir, and thou mine!\"\n\n\n      AN OLD HAG WHO DESIRED ONLY PLEASURE\n\n      A man said his prayers and then began his\n      supplications, desiring to enter Paradise and to\n      be delivered from the fire of Hell. An old woman,\n      who happened to be in his rear, and heard him,\n      said: \"O Lord, cause me to share in whatever he\n      supplicates for.\" The man, who had listened, then\n      said: \"O Lord, hang me on a gibbet, and cause me\n      to die of scourging.\" The hag continued: \"O Lord,\n      pardon me and preserve me from what he asked for.\"\n      The man then turned to her and said: \"What a\n      wonderfully-unpleasant partner this is! She desires\n      to share with me in all that gives rest and pleasure,\n      but refuses to be my partner in distress and misery.\"\n\n\n      PLAGIARISM\n\n      A poet brought to a critic a composition, every\n      distich of which he had plagiarised from a different\n      collection of poems, and every rhetorical figure from\n      another author. The critic said: \"For a wonder thou\n      hast brought a line of camels, but if the string were\n      untied, every one of the herd would rush away in\n      another direction.\"\n\n\n      THE AFFLICTED POET\n\n      A poet paid a visit to a doctor, and said: \"Something\n      has become knotted in my heart which makes me\n      uncomfortable; it makes also my limbs wither, and\n      causes the hairs on my body to stand on end.\" The\n      physician, who was a shrewd man, asked: \"Very likely\n      thou has not yet recited to any one thy latest\n      verses.\" The poet replied: \"Just so.\" The doctor\n      continued: \"Then recite them.\" He complied, was\n      requested to repeat them, and again to rehearse them\n      for the third time. After he had done so, the doctor\n      said: \"Now arise, for thou art saved. This poetry\n      had become knotted in thy heart, and the dryness of\n      it took effect upon the outside; but, as thou hast\n      relieved thy heart, thou art cured.\"\n\n\n\n[Footnote 1: There is a clever play on the author's name, which also\nmeans a _goblet_.]\n\n[Footnote 2: The seventh degree of the S\u00faf\u00eds.]\n\n[Footnote 3: The fifth degree of the S\u00faf\u00eds.]\n\n[Footnote 4: In the Persian, _without a shield_.]","title":"The Persian Mystics: J\u00e1m\u00ed","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":14410}