MEDIEVAL PERSIA.pdf

EARLY

LITERATURE OF

THE

EAST

WITH

HISTORICAL

SURVEYS OF

THE

CHIEF

WRITINGS OF

EACH NATION

Translations, Bibliographies, etc._{, by} the_following

Leading Orientalists:

IN

AMERICA:

MORRIS JASTROW

.LL.D., Professor ofSemiticLanguages,University of

Penn-sylvania;

JAMES

H. BREASTED,LL.D., Professor of Egyptology, University of

Chicago;

CHARLES

C. TORREY, D.D., Professor of Semitic Languages Yale University; A. V.W. JACKSON, LL.D., Professor of Indo-Iranian, Columbia

Uni-versity;

CHARLES

R.LANMAN.LL.D.,ProfessorofSanskrit, HarvardUniversity;

REV.

CHARLES

F. AIKEN, S.T.D., Dean of the Faculty of Theology, Catholic

University; FRIEDRICH HIRTH, LL.D., Professor of Chinese, Columbia

Uni-versity; REV.

WILLIAM

E. GRIFFIS, D.D., former Professor at the Imperial University, Tokio.

IN

EUROPE:

E. A. W. BUDGE, F.S.A., Director of Egyptology in the British Museum; SIR

GASTON

MASPERO,D.C.L.,MemberoftheRoyal Institute ofFrance; REV.A. H.

SAYCE, LL.D., Professor of Comparative Philology, Oxford University; W.

FLINDERS-PETRIE, LL.D., ProfessorofEgyptology,University College,London;

STEPHEN LANGDON,

Ph.D., Professor of Assyriology, Oxford University; SIR

ERNEST

SATOW,LL.D.,G.C.M.G. BritishMinister toJapan; H.OLDENBERG,

LL.D., Professor of Sanskrit, Kiel _University; T. _{W. RHYS-DAVIDS,} LL.D., Librarianofthe Royal Asiatic Society; ARMINIUSVAMBfiRY, LL.D., Professor ofOrientalLanguages,University ofBudapest.

IN

ASIA:

SIRM.

COOMARA

SWAMY,

LegislativeCouncilofCeylon;

ROMESH CHUNDER

DUTT, C.I.E., Author of _{the History} of Civilization in Ancient India;

DARAB

D. P. SANJANA, Educational Society of Bombay; VISCOUNT

KENCHO

SUYE-MATSU

LL.M.,Japanese Ministerof the Interior; SHEIK FAIZ-ULLAH-BHAI,

Head Masterofthe Schools of Anjuman-i-Islam;

RALPH

T. GRIFFITH,President Benares College, India; JIVANJI JAMSHEDJI MODI, Fellow ofBombay

Uni-versity, OfficierdeI'Acadfimie Frangaise.

Under _{the editorship of a staffofspecialists} directed _by

PHOF.

CHARLES

F.

HORNE,

PH.D.

PARKE,

AUSTIN,

AND

LIPSCOMB,

INC.

and Early Literature ofthe East, consisting of fourteen volumes. In Volume I of theseries will be found a cer-tificateas to the limitationofthe editionandthe registered

numberof thisset.

Copyright, 1917,

VOLUME

VIII

MEDIEVAL

PERSIA

In Translation* _by

E. H. WHINFIELD, M.A., of the

BROWNB, F.R.C.P., Professor of Arabic, Cambridge

CELLO;

REYNOLD

NICHOLSON, LL.D., Professor of I y College, London;

HERMAN

BICKNBLL, M.D.,

the Ori CAPTAIN H. WILBERFORCE CLARKK, R.E.;

THE

APPROACH TO

BAGHDAD.

With a Bri$fBibliography by

PIOF.

A

.SON, LL.D.

With an Histor <nd Dt*cri&i<mt

%

PROF.

CHARLES

F.'HOHNK,

Pn.D.

PARKE,

AUSTIN,

AND

LIPSCOMB,

INC.

VOLUME

VIII

MEDIEVAL

PERSIA

In Translations by

E. H. WHINFIELD, M.A., of the _Royal Asiatic _Society; E. G. BROWNE, F.R.C.P., Professor of _{Arabic, Cambridge University;}

LOUISA STUART COSTELLO;

REYNOLD

NICHOLSON, LL.D., Professor of _Persian, University College, London;

HERMAN

BICKNELL, M.D.,

the Oriental _explorer; CAPTAIN H. WILBERFORCE _CLARKE, R.E.;

and other authorities on Persian literature.

With a BriefBibliography by

PROF. A. V. WILLIAMS JACKSON, LL.D.

With an Historical _Survey and Descriptions by

PROF.

CHARLES

F.

HORNE,

PH.D.

PARKE,

AUSTIN,

AND

LIPSCOMB,

INC.

"

Let

there be light."

GENESIS

I, 3.

"

There

never

was

a

_false god,

nor

was

there ever

really

a

false religion, unless

you

call

a

child

a

MEDIEVAL

PERSIA

PAGE

INTRODUCTION

_{Sufism, the}

Mystic

_Religion of the

Persian Poets 1

I.

OMAR

KHAYYAM,

the first _{great mystic poet (A.D.}

1050-1120) 9

A

Profession of Faith 13

The

"Rubaiyat"

17

II. _NIZAMI, Persia's chief romantic poet (A.D.

1140-1203) 101

"

The

Loves

of

Khosru and

Shireen"

...

104

III.

JALAL AD-DIN

RUMI,

the leader of Sufism (A.D.

1207-1273) 109

"

The

Fairest

Land"

, . . . 113

The "Masnavi"

114

IV. _{SADI, the}

famous

_{poet philosopher (A.D. 1184-1291)} 131

The

"Bustan"

or "

Orchard

of Fruits

"...

136

The

"Gulistan"

or "

Rose

Garden

of Beauties". 227

V. _HAFIZ, the

"Poet

of

Love"

_{(A.D. 1325-1329?)} . . 329

His Praise of His

Own

Verse .. . . 333

The

"

Divan"

...

. * . 339

VI. _{JAMI, the} last _{great mystic (A.D. 1414-1492)} . . 379

"Joseph and

Zuleika" . . , , .

V

_'-...; . 383

FACING PAGE

The

Approach

to

Baghdad

_Frontispiece

Sadi,

an

Original Portrait 134

Crossing the Persian Desert ; .

320

MEDIEVAL

PERSIA

INTRODUCTION

SUFISM,

THE

MYSTIC RELIGION OF

THE

PERSIAN

POETS

literature of

medieval

Persia includes

some

of the

1

most

celebrated _poetry ever written.

Perhaps

_never,

indeed, has there

been

a

language

and

an

age better attunedto

poetry. Persia, after three centuries of

Arab

dominion,

had

regained

her independence

and resumed

her

own

language.

Her

ancient literature

had

been

_destroyed, but

her

men

of

learning

had become

the leaders of

Mohammedan

science

and

theology.

With

reawakened

patriotism they

now

began,

from

the _{poet Firdausi}

onward,

to create _{a truly}

Persian

literature.

This

_literature,

and

_especially its _poetry, is _closely connected

with

the

remarkable

_religion called Sufism. _Indeed, the

latest edition of _{the Encyclopaedia Britannica goes} so far as

to _say of the

Sufism

of the Persians that it "has fascinated the noblest

minds

of that subtle race

and

has _inspired the

most

beautiful _{religious poetry} in the world."

Both

the

faith

and

the _poetry so _{highly praised}

form

the chief

theme

of the _{present volume.}

The

first _{great Sufi}writer

was

Omar

Khayyam,

with

whose

works

the

volume

_opens.

Unfortunately

Omar,

by

a

very

large

number

of

Western

readers, has

come

to be regarded as

a rather erotic

pagan

_poet, a

drunkard

interested _{only in}

wine and

_{earthly pleasure.}

This

is _{typical of the} confusion

which

exists

on

_{the entire subject of} Sufism.

The West

has

2

THE

SACRED BOOKS

insisted

on judging

Omar

from

its

own

_view-point.

But

if

we

are to

understand

the

East

at _all,

we

must

_{try to see}

how

its

own

_{people look}

upon

its _writings. It

comes

as _{a surprise}

to

many

Westerners

when

_they are told that in Persia itself

there is

no

_dispute

whatever

about

Omar's

verses

and

their

meaning.

He

is accepted quite

simply

as a great religious

poet.

What

then

becomes

of all his _{passionate praise} of

wine

and

love?

These

are

merely

the

thoroughly

established

meta-phors of

Sufism

; the

wine

is the joyof the spirit,

and

the love

is the _{rapturous devotion} to

God.

Even

the constant _scoffing

at

laws

and

conventions is but _{a protest against} the

narrow

Mohammedan

_{religious edicts}

which

could not

be

more

_openly

defied.

Let us

understand

this _subject

more

_fully.

Perhaps

Per-sia

never

_{did accept}

Mohammedanism

very

_deeply. It

was

forced

on

her

by

her

Arab

_conquerors;

and

though

in the

course of generations the

lower

classes

became

thoroughly

imbued

with

the

new

faith, yet thinking

men may

always

have

_accepted it

with

reservation.

We

have

seen in

our

pre-vious

volume

_that, in the

year

_1000,

even

the _great

Court-poet

Firdausi

was

accused of Zoroastrianism. It

would

appear, therefore, that

when

Persia

shook

herself free after

more

than

three

hundred

_{years of}

Arab

dominion, her

upper

classes

had no

very

_{strong religion,}

though

like all

men

they

desired

one

and

_sought for it.

Thus

arose Sufism.

The

for-mulas

of

Mohammedanism

must

still be _{followed, to satisfy}

the

masses

of the _people,

and

the

words

of the

Koran

served

well

enough

for _{the metaphorical expression} of _deeper ideas.

So

Sufism

clothed itself in _metaphors,

and was

_taught

by

poet-preachers. It

became

a religion of poetry.

In

its essence

Sufism

is a

form

of

mysticism

_; that _is, it is

a faith

which

finds _expression in ecstasies

and

_visions,

and

meets

godhood

_everywhere. Its devotees

go

_{into trances,}

and

then

_{half-unconsciously}

pour

forth a flood of fervid

words

which

_{they consider inspired.}

They

rouse themselves to a

very

agony

of love for the beautiful

and

for

God

a

ideas as well

deep

_thoughts as to the

meaning

of life

and

death.

We

shall also

meet

shrewdly

intellectual _philosophers

who

assume

the

garb

of _Sufism,

using

its _rapturous

words

to

pour

forth

most

un-Mohammedan

_ideas, theories _that,

put

in

ungarhled

_prose,

would

have

been

punished

with

the

executioner's sword.

In

its earliest ecstatic _form,

Sufism

was

not of

Persian

origin.

The

first so-called Sufis

were

Arab monks

who

adopted

the

name

from

the single coarse

woolen

garment

which

_{they wore,} the

word

_sufi

meaning

_originally

"

wool."

Mohammed

himself

had

preached

_{positively against}

monk-hood. _Indeed,

he

had

set

marriage

and

the continuation of

the race

among

man's

chief duties.

Yet

even in his

own

case

the values of _solitude, of _penance, of restraint

from

_worldly

joys,

had

deeply

impressed

him; and

he encouraged

that

oc-casional

withdrawal

from

common

_life,

from which

the

monks

or Sufis soon _developed.

At

a

very

_{early date,} these

Mohammedan

Sufis

were

seeing visions

and

uttering doctrines in but little

harmony

with

_{the original}

Mohammedanism.

We

learn of a

woman

Sufi, Rabia, as early as about A.D. 750. _Rabia,

we

are _told,

would

stand at _night

upon

_{her housetop}

and

reach out her

arms

to

heaven

in a _rapture of _{love, crying,}

"

God

!

hushed

is the _{day's noise}

; with his beloved is the lover.

But

Thee, I have for

my

_lover;

and

alone with _{Thee, I joy."}

When

_{questioned about}

matrimony

she _declared,

"The

bonds

of

wedlock have descended

upon

me.

I

am

not

my

own,

but

my

Lord's,

and

must

not be unfaithful to

Him."

Many

of the Sufis _developed

by

_physical

means

the ecstatic

trance

which

_{they regarded} as _{religious; they danced,} or

whirled, or kept

up

a

monotonous

chant for _{long periods.}

Sufism

had

soon its _saints,

and

even

its _martyrs.

Indeed

good

Mohammedans

hardly

knew

how

to look

upon

or

how

to accept this strange

and

frenzied

development

in their midst,

i_{Other derivations} connect _sufi with root-words _meaning "wise and

4

THE

SACRED BOOKS

until

about

the

year

A.D. _1100,

when

_{the great}

Mohammedan

teacher

Al

Ghazali

_placed

upon

it the

stamp

of his _approval.

Of

Al

Ghazali

as teacher

and

_philosopher,

we

have spoken

in

our

Arabic

volumes.

He

was

called the "Decisive

Argu-ment

" or the "

Proof

" of Islam.

He

was

the chief teacher

of the faith after

Mohammed.

What

he

_really did for

Mohammedanism

was

to

expand

the strict literalness of the

Prophet's teaching so that its believers

might

_accept its

doc-trines _{both emotionally}

and

_{symbolically.}

As

this

was

ex-actly

what

the Sufis

had

long

been

doing,

they

were

thereafter

welcomed

as

good

Mohammedans,

and were

allowed to assert

almost

any

heretical idea

they

chose.

Their

_{only necessary}

caution

was

to

speak

in a _{poetic rapture, to}

ramble

allegor-ically,

and

not to

maintain

their

arguments

in cold

and

intel-lectual _prose.

Omar,

the first _great Sufi _poet,

was

a

contemporary

and, to

some

extent, a friend of

Al

Ghazali.

THE

KOMANTIC

LOVE-TALES

Of

course not all the

Persian

_poets

adopted

the Sufi

doc-trines. _{Firdausi, living in} the earlier _{Sufi centuries,}

had

never

even thought

of this as

an

_easy

middle

ground

between

strict

Mohammedanism

and

_{outright heresy.}

So

_too,

even

a

century

later

than

Omar

and

Al

_Ghazali,

we

meet

Nizami,

a

truly great poet

who

was

content to stand

wholly

aside

from

religious speculation

and

write solely

and

simply

of this

world.

He

_{glories in} the

beauty

of

nature

as nature.

He

delights in

emotion merely

as

human

emotion.

Nizami,

then, is _{Persia's great}

romantic

_poet or at least

he ranks

inthis

by

the side _{of Firdausi, the unhistoric history}

relator.

Nizami

is content to tell love-stories

merely

as

love-stories.

Persian

literature is full of _love-tales;

and

oddly

enough

the poets of

new

generations

have

not

thought

it

neces-sary to find

new

names

for their loving couples.

There

are just three chief

Persian

love couples;

and

the stories of these

three

have been

_{retold endlessly}

by

_poet after _poet.

These

three eternally living love pairs are:

first,

Joseph

of the Bible

and

_{Potiphar's wife,}

known

to Persia as

Yussuf and

of less exalted _{rank, the}

Romeo

and

Juliet _{of Persia,}

who

are _{only finally} united in Paradise.

Nizami

wrote

of

Majr

nun

and

Laila

and

also of

King

Khosru's

love.

We

have

selected the latter

poem

_{for presentation here, as} it is _usually

regarded as his masterpiece.

THE

CHIEF

SUFI

TEACHEES

Firdausi lived _chiefly in the tenth _century,

Omar

in the

eleventh,

Nizami

in the twelfth.

But

not until the

thir-teenth century did

Sufism

reach its full _development.

Of

Omar

we

may,

if

we

_{choose, accept} the

Western

view

that

he

was

a

pagan

_lightly

masking

as a Sufi.

But

of the

thirteenth-century Sufists, there

can be

no

doubt

whatever.

They

are

earnest, ecstatic believers in the

"

religion of poetry."

They

have even

_developed for it

a system

of philosophy, at the

basis of

which

stands the _{following thought.}

The

_{only truly}

existent _thing is

God.

Each

human

soul is but a detached

fragment

of that great God-soul,

and

so, naturally, yearns to

reunite itself to

Him.

The

material

world around

us is a

vision

which

confuses

and

_misdirects, but

can

never

wholly

destroy, this yearning.

We

must

struggle

upward

through

the false loves to the true_;

and

we

do

so in

an

_{ever-increasing}

ecstasy of self-surrender as

we

approach

nearer to the

ulti-mate

reunion

with

Him.

The

reader will find this doctrine

expressed repeatedly in the later writers of

our

volume.

Most

notable _{of these spiritually}

awakened

thirteenth-cen-tury

mystics is Jalal

ad-Din

Rumi.

He

is

regarded

_to-day

as the _{chief teacher,} the chief _exponent, of Sufism.

His

long

poem,

the "

Masnavi,"

which

we

givein

condensed

form,

has

been

calledthe

Gospel

ofSufism.

As

a _poet Jalal

ad-Din

ranks

perhaps

a shade

below

_{Persia's greatest singers;} but as

a _{religious teacher,} a _philosopher, the chief

exponent

of a

new

_faith,

we

need

rank

him

but

one grade below

the other

perhaps

the

more

characteristic of the two.

So

both are

presented here.

In

this thirteenth _century lived also the _{writer usually}

6

THE

SACRED BOOKS

genius of their nation, the " philosopher poet," Sadi.

His

countrymen

never

tire of _praising his _{literary style,} the

beauty

of his verse, the

"

attic salt " of his wit.

Much

of

this is _necessarily lost _{in translation;}

but

the

power

of his

philosophy

remains.

Sadi

was

a Sufi, but the faith rested

on

him

perhaps

less _heavily

than

on

Jalal ad-Din. Sadi's

breadth

of

view

enabled

him

to

be

both Sufi

and

Moham-medan, and

to

be

_honestly both.

He

made

the

holy

pilgrim-age to

Mecca

fourteen times

though

this

indeed

may

speak

less for_{his religion}

than

for his love of _travel, as

he wandered

widely

over

many Mohammedan

lands.

His

writings are a

mass

of little _stories, anecdotes

mingled

with

comments

and

wise

_sayings.

He

shifts often

and

_easily

from

_prose to _verse,

so _intertwining these as to

be

_{the despair} oftranslators.

His

two

chief

books

are the

"

Bustan,"

which

is

wholly

_verse,

and

his

"

_Gulistan,"

which

is _{largely prose.}

The

"

Bustan,"

though

less well

known

in

Europe

than

the

"

_Gulistan," is

perhaps

the

more

characteristic of the two.

So

both are

pre-sentedhere.

From

Sadi

and

Jalal

ad-Din

_{in the great} thirteenth

cen-tury,

we

pass to

Hafiz

in the fourteenth,

and

Jami

in the

fifteenth.

These

were

the last of the classic

Persian

_poets.

Hafiz,

we

are assured

by

our

chief

Western

authorities

on

Persian,

was

one

of the world'sgreatestmasters of lyric verse.

The

Persian language

is in itself

renowned

for its sweetness

and

smoothness

of _sound, its fitness for _{lyric music,}

and

Hafiz

shows

its richest treasures.

As

for

Jami,

who

lived

almost late

enough

to

be

a

contemporary

of

Martin Luther

and

of the

opening

of

modern

_times,

he

too strikes a sweet

lyric note,

but

is

more

renowned

for his religious spirit.

Both he and

Hafiz

are _Sufis, but in a

very

different

mood.

The

Sufism

of

Hafiz

is like that of

Omar.

That

is to _say,

Hafiz

confines himself so

wholly

to the _praise of

wine

and

love, that

even Persian

critics find

an

earthly taint about his

Sufism

and

_{question whether,}

when

he

_wrote,

he

was

always

thinking about the joys ofthe spirit.

Persian

lovers sing his

songs to-day.

In

brief,

he

is

"

the _love-poet of _{the world,"}

We

have

_{taken, in the}

form

he gave

it, the celebrated Persian

love-tale of

Joseph

and

Zuleika;

and

the reader will find the

moral purpose

of the

whole

made

very

_plain. Zuleika at first

loves

Joseph

_very

humanly,

but so _deeply that at last she

reaches to _{the point where,}

through

the

very

_strength of her

passion, she

outgrows

its _earthly side.

Her

love rises above the

man

and

_passes to the

God-in-man,

which

exists in _every

human

soul.

That

is the clear voice of _{Sufism, the highest}

THE

KUBAIYAT

"

Under

the garb of the _{Mystic's favorite}

method

_of

Doubt

and

Protest, theSufi

[Omar]

pictures the process of the

Awaken-ing of the Soul.

That

is the purpose of the

'Magic

Shadow

shapes that

come and

go

'

in the _{Eubaiyat of}

Omar

Khayyam.

His

picturesare sufficiently transpairent for us to see

The

Reality

Behind."

C. H. A.

BJERREGAARD.

"In

his _way, he

was

a _{beacon-light, not only in} the history of Sufi Mysticism, but in the annals of God-seeking. I can find no

better _{yoke-fellow for}

him

than

Martin Luther

t like

whom

he

was indeed

an

_{Apostle of Protest."}

OMAR

Maker/' was

KHAYYAM,

born

about

which

A.D.

means

1050 and

"Omar

diedthein 1122.

Tent

Our

day knows

Omar

_only as _{a poet;} but his

own

_{age revered}

him

as a scientist

and

teacher.

In

that twelfth _century,

when

Arabic

or

Mohammedan

_learning

was

at the _height of

its _fame,

when

European

scholars

were journeying

_eagerly to

Arabic

_{universities,}

Omar

was

accounted

one

of the

most

learned of

Mohammedans.

He

was

a celebrated

expounder

of the

Koran,

and

wrote

several scientific_{works, especially}

on

astronomy

and

algebra.

His

contemporaries spoke of

him

as

the successor of

Avicenna,

of

whom

our Arabic volumes have

told as the "

wonder-mind

" of

an

earlier _generation.

Omar

in his

youth

was

the friend

and

fellow student of a lad

who

rose to be _{the Vizier, or}

Chief

_Minister, of the Sultan

who

ruled Persia.

This

Vizier offered

Omar

wealth

and

high

employment;

but

Omar

refused to _accept

more

than

a small

income,

and

peace in

which

to

pursue

his studies.

This

tale

strikes the _keynote of the _sage'slife.

He

_truly scorned

ambi-tion.

Learned

as

he

_was,

he

disliked

argument,

which

among

the _disputants of his

time

was

often _superheated.

Hence

in

public,

Omar

rather veiled

than

displayed his knowledge.

That

such a

man

should _{be regarded}

by

the

Western

world

as

an

idle reveler is absurd.

Such

wisdom

united to such

shallowness is self_{-contradictory.}

There

_{is, however,}

some

justifiable

ground

for the

view

of

Omar

taken

by

that other

remarkable

_poet

who

first introduced

him

to the

Western

world.

When

Edward

_{Fitzgerald's translations of}

Omar

had

brought both writers before all _{eyes, Fitzgerald}

wrote

of

him,

"

While

the

wine

Omar

celebrates is

simply

_{the juice of the}

grape,

he bragged

more

than

he drank

of it, in very defiance

perhaps

of that spiritual

wine

which

left its votaries

sunk

in _hypocrisy or _disgust."

And

_again, "

Omar, more

12

THE

SACRED BOOKS

perate, or

more

careless of

any

so complicated

system

as

resulted in

nothing

but _{hopeless necessity, flung} his

own

ge-nius

and

_learning

with

a bitter or

humorous

_jest into _the

gen-eral

ruin

which

their insufficient _{glimpses only} served to

reveal; and,

pretending

sensual pleasure as the serious

pur-pose of life, only diverted himself

with

speculative

problems

of Deity, Destiny,

Matter

and

_Spirit,

Good

and

_Evil,

and

other

such

_{questions, easier} to start

than

to

run down, and

the pursuit of

which

becomes

a

very

weary

_sport at last!

"

Since

_{Fitzgerald expresses} this bitter

view

of life for

him-self as well as for

Omar,

_{his translation,}

though very

beauti-ful as poetry,

becomes

unreliable as _{voicing the original}

Per-sian.

Many

of _{Fitzgerald's phrases,}

and

not a

few

of his

entire lines, are

nowhere

to

be

found

in

Omar.

Thus

our

world has

too _nearly

mistaken

the

one

_poet for the other.

The

_{general introduction} of this

volume

has

_{already pointed}

out to the reader that

Persian

_{teaching absolutely rejects this}

material

view

of

Omar.

We

have

_{therefore presented here}

not the

few

"

_rubaiyat

"

of

Omar

which

_{Fitzgerald partly}

translated, partly invented,

but

the full collection of all

Omar's

known

_{quatrains, in a}

form

_preserving a strict _fidelity

tothe _original.

From

_these, let the reader

judge

the

wisdom

or the follies of

Omar,

as

he

will.

One

ancient anecdote of

Omar

so touches

on

this _point that

we

_repeat it for the reader to

apply

on

either side. It is

attributed to

one

of the _{sage's pupils} in _science,

who

_says:

"

I often

used

to hold conversations

with

my

_teacher,

Omar

Khayyam,

in a

garden

_;

and

one

day he

said to

me,

'

My

tomb

shall be _{in a spot}

where

the north

wind

may

scatter roses over

it.' I

wondered

at the

words

he

_spake,

but I

knew

that his

were no

idle words.1

Years

_after,

when

I chanced

to revisit

Nishapur,

I

went

to his final _{resting-place,}

and

lo! it

was

just outside a garden,

and

trees

laden

with

fruit stretched

their

boughs

over the

garden

_wall,

and dropped

their flowers

upon

his

tomb,

so that the stone

was

hidden

under

them."

i_{The rashness of} the _{words, according} to D'Herbelot, consisted in

being so opposed to those in the Koran:

"

No man

knows where he

Ye,

who

seek forpious

fame,

And

that _light should _gild

your name,

Be

this

duty

_{ne'er forgot}

Love

your

_neighbor

harm him

not.

To

_Thee,

Great

_Spirit, I _appeal,

Who

can'st _{the gates of} truth unseal

;

I follow none,

nor

askthe

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}

world 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.

And

_prayers the _pious

make

so _long

Are

turned

by

me

to _joyous

song

_;

Or, ifa _{prayer I should repeat,}

THE

SACRED

BOOKS

They

blame

me

that

my

words

are clear_;

Because

I

am

not

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."

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

notof_Paradise,

Or

the

beams

ofhouris' _eyes;

Who

the truth oftales

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.

Before thy

prescience,

power

divine,

What

is this idlesenseof

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

?

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

_{earlythought,}

Riper

years

no

wisdom

brought,

Life is _ebbing, sure

though

_slow,

And

I feel I

nothing know.

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

_{dispenses 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_;

16

THE

SACRED BOOKS

Thought and

trouble, tears

and

woe

?

Through

the

shrouded

veil _{of earth,}

Life's rich colors

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.

THE

CUP

Know'st

thou

whence

the

hues

are

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,

1.

At

dawn

a _cry

through

all the tavern _shrilled,

"

Arise,

my

brethren ofthe revelers' guild,

That

I

may

fill

our

measure

full of _wine,

Or

e'er the

measure

of

our days be

filled."

2.

Who

was

it

brought

thee here _{at nightfall,}

who

?

Forth

from

the

harem

in this

manner,

who

?

To

him

who

in

thy

absence

burns

as _fire,

And

trembles like hot _air,

who

was

_it,

who

?

3.

'Tis but a

day

we

_{sojourn here below,}

And

all the _gain

we

_get is _grief

and

_woe,

Then,

leaving our life's riddles all unsolved,

And

burdened with

regrets,

we

have

to go.

4.

Khaja

! _grant

one

_request,

and

_{only one,}

Wish

me

God-speed,

and

get

your preaching done

;

I

walk

_aright, 'tis

you

who

see

awry

_;

Go

! heal

your

purblind

eyes, leave

me

alone.

5.

Arise!

and

_come,

and

of _{thy courtesy}

Kesolve

my

weary

_{heart's perplexity,}

And

fill

my

goblet, so that I

may

drink,

Or

e'er _they

make

_{their goblets} out of

me.

i_{Translated by} E. H. Whinfield.

18

THE

SACRED BOOKS

6.

When

I

am

_dead,

with

wine

my

body

_lave,

For

obit

chant

a bacchanalian _stave,

And,

if

you

need

me

at the

day

of

doom,

Beneath

the tavern threshold seek

my

_grave.

7.

Since

no

one can

assure thee of the

morrow,

Eejoice

thy

heart to-day,

and

banish

sorrow

With

moonbright

_wine, fair

moon,

for heaven's

moon

Will

look for

us

in

vain

on

many

a

morrow.

8.

Let

lovers all _distraught

and

frenzied_be,

And

flown

with

_wine,

and

_reprobates, like

me

_;

When

_sober, I find _{everything amiss,}

But

in

my

cups

_cry,

"

Let

what

will _be, be."

9. \

In

Allah's

name,

_say,

wherefore

set the

wise

Their

hearts

upon

this

house

of vanities?

Whene'er

they

think to rest

them

from

their _toils,

Death

takes

them

by

the

hand,

and

_says, " Arise."

10.

Men

_{say the}

Koran

holds all

heavenly

_lore,

But

on

its _pages

seldom

care to _pore;

The

lucid lines

engraven on

the

bowl

That

is the text _{they dwell}

on

evermore.

11.

Blame

_{not the drunkards,}

you

who

wine

_eschew,

Had

I but _grace, I

would

abstain like _you,

And

mark

me, vaunting

_zealot,

you

commit

What

though

'tis fair to _view, this

form

of

man,

I

know

not

why

the

heavenly Artizan

Hath

set _{these tulip} cheeks

and

_cypress

forms

To

deck

the

mournful

halls of earth's divan.

13.

My

fire _{gives forth}

no

_{smoke-cloud here below,}

My

stock-in-trade

no

_profit here _below,

And

_you,

who

call

me

_{tavern-haunter,}

know

There

is indeed

no

tavern here below.

14.

Thus

_spake

an

idol to his _worshiper,

"

Why

dost thou

worship

this

dead

_stone, fair sir?

'Tis because

He

who

_gazeth

through

_{thine eyes}

Doth some

_part of

His charms

on

it confer." 2

15.

Whatever thou

_doest,

never

_grieve

thy

_brother,

NOT

kindle

fumes

of

wrath

his _peace to

smother

;

Dost thou

desire to taste eternal _bliss,

Vex

thine

own

_heart, but never

vex

another!

16.

O

Thou

! 3

to please

whose

love

and

wrath

as _well,

Allah

created

heaven

and

likewise hell;

Thou

hast _{thy court} in _heaven,

and

I

have

_naught,

Why

not

admit

me

in

thy

courts to dwell?

17. .,

:

v

' '

So

many

cups

of

wine

will

I consume,

Its

bouquet

shall exhale

from

out

my

_tomb,

And

_every

one

_{that passes}

by

_{shall halt,}

And

reel

and

_stagger

with

that

mighty

fume.

2

Meaning, all is of God, even idols.

s_The

person addressed is the _prophet Mohammed. The Sufis were

20

THE

SACRED BOOKS

18.

Young

wooer,

charm

all hearts

with

lover's _art,

Glad

_{winner, lead}

thy

paragon

_apart!

A

hundred

Kaabas

_{equal not}

one

_heart,

Seek

not the

Kaaba,

rather seek a heart!

19.

What

_time,

my

cup

in

hand,

its

draughts

I _drain,

And

with

_{rapt heart unconsciousness attain,}

Behold what wondrous

miracles are

wrought

-Songs

flow as

water

from

my

burning

brain.

20.

To-day

is

but

a _{breathing space, quaff}

wine

!

Thou

wilt not see _again this life of thine;

So, as the

world

becomes

the spoil of time,

Offer _thyself to

be

the _spoil of

wine

!

21.

'Tis

we

who

to wine's

yoke our

necks _incline,

And

risk

our

lives to _gain the smiles of

wine

;

The henchman

_{grasps the flagon}

by

its throat

And

_{squeezes out the} life-blood of the vine.

22.

Here

in this tavern-haunt I

make

my

_lair,

Pawning

for _{wine, heart, soul,}

and

all I _wear,

Without

a

hope

of _bliss, or fear of _bale,

Rapt

above

water, earth,

and

fire,

and

air.

23.

Quoth

fish to _duck,

"

'Twill

be

a sad _affair,

If

this

brook

leaves its channel

dry

and

bare ";

To

whom

_{the duck,} "

When

I

am

dead

and

roasted

From

doubt to clear assurance is _{a breath,}

A

breath

from

_{infidelity to} faith;

O

_precious breath!

enjoy

it while

you may,

'Tis all that life

can

_give,

and

then

comes

death.

25.

Ah

!

wheel

of

heaven

to

tyranny

_inclined,

'Twas

e'er

your wont

to

show

_yourself

unkind

;

And,

cruel earth, if they should cleave

your

breast,

What

store of _{buried jewels they}

would

find!

26.

My

life lastsbut a

day

_{or two,}

and

fast

Sweeps

by, like torrent

stream

or desert blast,

Howbeit,

of

two

days

I take

no heed

The

day

to _come,

and

that _{already past.}

27.

That

_pearl is

from

a

mine

unknown

_{to thee,}4

That

ruby

bears a

stamp

thou

canst not _see,

The

tale of love

some

other

tongue

must

_tell,

All

our

_{conjectures are}

mere

_fantasy.

28.

Now

with

its _joyful

prime

my

_age is _rife,

I _quaff

enchanting

_wine,

and

list to fife_;

Chide

not at

wine

for all its bitter _taste,

Its bitterness sorts well

with

human

life!

29.

O

soul!

whose

lot it is to bleed

with

pain,

And

_daily

change

of fortune _{to sustain,}

Into this

body

wherefore

didst _{thou come,}

Seeing

thou

must

at last

go

forth _again?

*

22

THE

SACRED BOOKS

30.

To-day

is thine to _spend,

but

_{not to-morrow,}

Counting

on

morrows

breedeth

naught

but

sorrow;

Oh

!

squander

not this breath that

heaven hath

lent _thee,

Nor make

too sure another breath to

borrow

!

31.

7

Tis labor lost thus to all doors to crawl.

Take

thy

good

fortune,

and

thy

bad

withal;

Know

for a _{surety each}

must

play

his

game,

As

from

heaven's dice-box fate's dice

chance

to fall.

32.

This jug

did _{once, like}

me,

love's sorrows taste,

And

bonds

_{of beauty's} tresses once

embraced,

This

_handle,

which you

see

upon

its _side,

Has

many

a

time

twined

round

a

slender waist!

33.

Days

changed

to nights, ere

you were

born, or I,

And

on

its business ever rolled the

sky

_;

See

you

_{tread gently}

on

this dust

perchance

'Twas

_{once the apple} of

some

_{beauty's eye.}

34.

Pagodas,

just as

mosques,

are

homes

of prayer,

'Tis

prayer

that church-bells

chime

unto

the _air,

Yea,

Church and Kaaba, Rosary and

Cross

Are

all but divers _{tongues of}

world-wide

_prayer.

35.

'Twas

writ at _first,

whatever

was

_{to be,}

By

pen,

unheeding

bliss or _misery,

Yea,

writ

upon

the tablet once for _all,

To

murmur

or resist is _vanity.5

B

There

is a

mystery

I

know

_{full well,}

Which

to _all,

good

and

_{bad, I}

can

not tell;

My

words

_{are dark,} but I

can

not

unfold

The

secrets of the " station" 6

where

I dwell.

37.

No

base or _{light-weight coins pass current here,}

Of

such a

broom

has

swept our

_dwelling clear_;

Forth

from

the tavern

comes

a _sage

and

cries,

"

Drink

! for

ye

all

must

sleep

through

ages drear."

38.

With

outward

seeming

we

can

cheat

mankind,

But

to

God's

will

we

can

_{but be resigned};

The

_deepest wiles

my

cunning

e'er _devised,

To

balk resistless fate

no

way

could find.

39.

Is a friend faithless?

spurn

him

as a foe_;

Upon

trustworthy foes respect

bestow

;

Hold

_{healing poison} for

an

antidote,

And

baneful sweets for _deadly eisel

know.

40,

No

heart is there but bleeds

when

torn

from

_Thee,

No

_{sight so clear} but craves

Thy

face to see_;

And

though

_perchance

Thou

carest not for

them,

No

soul is there _{but pines}

with

care for Thee.

41.

Sobriety doth

dry

up

all _delight,

And

drunkenness

doth

drown

my

_{sense outright}

;

There

is a

middle

_state, it is

my

life

Not

_{altogether drunk,}

nor

sober _quite.

34

THE

SACRED BOOKS

42.

Behold

these

cups

!

Can

He

who

deigned

to

make

them,

In

wanton

freak let ruin overtake

them,

So

many

_shapely feet

and hands and

heads

What

love drives

Him

to

make,

what

wrath

to

break

them

?

43.

Death's terrors _spring

from

_{baseless fantasy,}

Death

_yields the tree of

immortality

_;

Since 'Isa breathed

new

life into

my

_soul,

Eternal

death

has

washed

its

hands

of

me

!

44.

Like

_{tulips in the}

Spring

your

cups

lift _up,

And,

with

a tulip-cheeked

companion,

sup

With

joy

your

_{wine, or} e'er this azure

wheel

With

some

unlooked-for blast _upset

your

_cup.

45.

Facts

will not

change

to

humor

man's

_caprice,

So

vaunt

not

human

_powers,

but

hold

your

_peace;

Here

must

we

_stay,

weighed

down

with

_{grief for this,}

That

we

were

born

so _late, so soon decease.

46.

Khayyam

!

why

weep

you

that

your

life is

bad

?

What

boots it thus to

mourn

?

Rather

be

glad.

He

that sins not

can

make

no

claim

to

mercy,

Mercy

was

made

for sinners

be

not sad.

47.

All

mortal

ken

is

bounded by

the _veil,

To

see

beyond man's

_sight is all too frail_;

Yea

! earth's

dark

bosom

is his _only

home

;

This

faithless _world,

my

home,

I

have

_surveyed,

Yea,

and

with

all

my

wit

deep

_question

made,

But

found no

moon

with

_{face so bright as thine,}

No

_cypress in such stateliness _arrayed.

49.

In

synagogue

and

_cloister,

mosque and

_school,

Hell's terrors

and

heaven's lures

men's bosoms

_rule,

But

_they

who

master

_{Allah's mysteries,}

Sow

not this

empty

chaff their heartsto fool.7

50.

You

see _{the world, but} all

you

see is _naught,

And

all

you

_say,

and

all

you

hear

is _naught,

Naught

the _{four quarters} of the

mighty

_earth,

The

secrets treasured in

your

chamber

_naught.8

51.

I

dreamt

a _{sage said,}

"

Wherefore

life

consume

In

_sleep?

Can

_sleep

make

_{pleasure's roses}

bloom

?

For

_{gather not}

with

death's twin-brother _sleep,

Thou

wilt

have

_sleep

enough

within

thy

tomb

!

"

52.

If the heart

knew

life's secrets _{here below,}

At

death 'twould

know

God's

secrets _too, I

trow

_;

But, if

you

know

naught

_here, while still _yourself,

To-morrow,

stripped of self,

what

can

you

know

?

53.

On

that

dread

_day,

when

wrath

shall

rend

the _sky,

And

darkness

dim

_{the bright} stars' _galaxy,

I'll seize the

Loved

One

by

His

_skirt,

and

_cry,

"

Why

hast

Thou doomed

these _guiltless ones to die?

"

7

Meaning, souls reabsorbed in the divine essence have no concern with

the material heaven and hell.

s

26

THE

SACRED BOOKS

54.

To

knaves

Thy

secret

we

must

not _confide,

To

comprehend

it is to fools _denied,

See

then to

what hard

case

Thou

doomest

men,

Our

hopes

from

one

and

all _perforce

we

hide.

55.

Cupbearer

!

what

though

fate's

blows

here betide _us,

And

a _{safe resting-place}

be

here denied _us,

So

_long as the _bright

wine-cup

stands

between

_us,

We

have

the

very

Truth

at

hand

to

guide

us.

56.

Long

time

in

wine

and

rose I took delight,

But

then

my

business

never

went

_aright;

Since

wine

could not

accomplish

my

_desire,

I have

abandoned and

forsworn

it _quite.

57.

Bring wine

!

my

heart

with dancing

_{spirit teems,}

Wake

! fortune's

waking

is as

fleeting

dreams

;

Quicksilver-like

our days

are swift of foot,

And

youthful

fire subsides as torrent streams.

58.

Love's _devotees, not

Moslems

here

you

_see,

Not

Solomons, but

ants of

low

_degree;

9

Here

are

but

faces

wan

and

tattered _rags, store of

Cairene

cloth or silk

have

we.

59.

My

law

it is in pleasure's _paths to _stray,

My

creed to

shun

the _{theologic fray;}

I

wedded

Luck,

and

offered her a _dower,

She

_said, " I

want

_none, so

thy

heart

be

_gay."

From

mosque

an

_outcast,

and

to

church

a _foe,

Allah

! of

what

_{clay didst}

thou

form

me

so?

Like

_skeptic

monk,

or

ugly

_courtesan,

No

_hopes

have

I _above,

no

_joys below.

61.

Men's

_lusts, like _house-dogs, still the

house

distress

With

_clamor,

barking

for

mere

wantonness

_;

Foxes

are _they,

and

_{sleep the sleep of} hares_;

Crafty

as wolves, as tigers pitiless.

62.

Yon

_{turf, fringing the}

margent

of the _stream,

As down

upon

a cherub's _lip

might

_seem,

Or

growth

from

dust of buried _tulip cheeks;

Tread

not that turf

with

_{scorn, or light}

esteem

!

63.

Hearts with

the _light oflove illumined _well,

Whether

in

mosque

or

synagogue

_{they dwell,}

Have

their

names

written in the

book

of _love,

Unvexed

by

hopes

of

heaven

or fears of hell.

64.

One

draught

of

wine

outweighs

the

realm

of _Tus,

Throne

of

Kobad

and

crown

of

Kai

Kawus

;

Sweeter

are _{sighs that lovers}

heave

at

morn,

Than

all the _groanings zealot breasts _produce.

65.

Though

Moslems

for

my

sins

condemn

and

chide

me,

Like

heathens to

my

idol I confide

me

;

Yea, .when

I perish of a

drunken

bout,

28

THE

SACRED BOOKS

66.

In

drinking

thus it is not

my

_design

To

_riot, or _transgress the

law

_divine,

No

! to attain unconsciousness of self

Is the sole cause I

drink

me

drunk

with

wine.

67.

Drunkards

are

doomed

to _hell, so

men

_declare,

Believe it _not, 'tis

but

a foolish scare_;

Heaven

will

be

empty

asthis

hand

of

mine,

If

none

who

love

good drink

find entrance there.

68.

'Tis

wrong,

_according to the strict

Koran,

To

drink

in

Ha

_jab, likewise in _Sha'ban,

God

and

the

Prophet

claim

those

months

_{as theirs;}

Was

Ramazan

then

made

_{for thirsty}

man

? 10

69.

Now

Ramazan

is

come,

no wine must

_flow,

Our

_simple

pastimes

we

must

now

_forego,

The

wine

we

have

in store

we

must

not _drink,

Nor

on our

mistresses

one

kiss bestow.

TO.

What

is the

world

?

A

_{caravanserai,}

A

_{pied pavilion of night}

and day

;

A

feast

whereat

a

thousand

Jamshids

_sat,

A

couch

whereon

a thousand

Bahrams

_lay.

71.

Now

that

your

roses

bloom

with

flowers of _bliss,

To

_grasp

your

_goblets

be

not so remiss_;

Drink

while

you

may!

Time

is a treacherous _foe,

You

may

not see another

day

like this.

10_The

Here

in this _palace,

where

Bahrain

_{held sway,}

The

wild roes

drop

their _young,

and

_{tigers stray};

And

_{that great}

hunter king

ah

!

well-a-day!

Now

to the

hunter

death is fallen _{a prey.}

73.

Down

fall thetears

from

skies

enwrapt

in _gloom,

Without

this _drink, the flowers could never

bloom

!

As

now

_{these flowerets yield delight} to

me,

So

shall

my

dust _{yield flowers}

God

knows

for

whom.

74.

To-day

is _Friday,11 as the

Moslem

_says,

Drink

then

from

bowls

served

up

in _quickrelays;

Suppose

on

common

days

you

drink one bowl,

To-day drink

two, for 'tis _{the prince of days.}

75. '

The

_very

wine

a

myriad

forms

_sustains,

And

to _{take shapes of plants}

and

creatures _deigns

But deem

not that its essence ever dies,

Its

forms

may

_perish, but its self remains.

76. , :

?

.

'Tis

naught

but

smoke

this _people's fire doth _bear,

For

my

_well-being not a soul doth care_;

With

hands

fate

makes

me

lift

up

_{in despair,}

I grasp

men's

_skirts, but find

no

succor there.

77.

This

bosom

_friend,

on

whom

you

so rely,

Seems

to clear

wisdom's

_eyes

an

enemy

_;

Choose

not

your

friends

from

this

rude

_multitude,

Their

converse is a _plague 'tis best to _fly.

11

30

78.

O

foolish

one

! this

molded

earth is

naught

;

This

_{parti-colored} vault of

heaven

is

naught

;

Our

_sojourn in this seat oflife

and

death

Is

but one

_breath,

and what

is that

but naught

?

79.

Some

_{wine, a}

Houri

(Houris

ifthere_be),

A

green

bank by

_{a stream,}

with

_minstrelsy

;

?

Toil not to find a better

Paradise

If

other

Paradise indeed

there

be

!

80.

To

the

wine-house

I

saw

_{the sage repair,}

Bearing

a wine-cup,

and

a

mat

for

prayer

;

I _said,

"

O

_Shaikh,

what

does this

conduct

mean

? 9

'

Said

_he,

"

Go

drink

I the

world

is

naught

but

air."

81.

The

Bulbul

to the

garden

winged

his

way,

Viewed

_{lily cups,}

and

roses _{smiling gay,}

Cried

in _{ecstatic notes,} "

O

live

your

_life,

You

never

will _{relive this fleeting day."}

82.

Thy

body

is a _tent,

where

harborage

The

Sultan

_spirit takes for

one

brief _age;

When

he

_departs,

comes

the _{tent-pitcher death,}

Strikes _it,

and

onward

moves,

another _stage.

83.

Khayyam,

who

long

time

stitched the tents of learning,

Has

fallen into a _furnace,

and

lies _burning,

Death's shears

have

cut hi-s thread of life _asunder,

In

the _{sweet spring a grassy}

bank

I _sought,

And

thither wine,

and

a fair

Houri

brought

;

And,

though

the people called

me

graceless dog,

Gave

not to

Paradise

_{another thought}!

85.

Sweet

is _rose-ruddy

wine

_{in goblets gay,}

And

s