» , ■ ""W* , Qlornell ItiioerHitg Eibtary 3tl;ara, Nem ^ork BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND THE GIFT OF HENRY W. SAGE 1891 QUH LIBRARY = CIRCULATION DATE DUE jim-r- 1S86 """-rill JUfT '■(Tijr %. '■■■ GAYLORO PRINT eOlNU.S.A. Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924026906721 Cornell University Library PK 6449.E5R66 Persian poetry for English readers: 3 1924 026 906 721 PERSIAN POETRY FOR ' ENGLISH READERS: HEINC; SPECIMENS OF SIX OF THE .iGREATEST CLASSICA), POETS OF PERSIA : FERDUSi, NIZAMI, SADI, JELAL-ADDIN RUMI, HAFIZ, and JAMI. WITH BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES AND NOTES. By S. ROBINSON, -if^. PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION. MDCCCLXXXIII. PERSIAN POETRY FOR ENGLISH READERS. REPKINTEn FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION, AND PRESENTED TO By THE TRANSLATOR. PERSIAN POETRY FOR ENGLISH READERS: BEING SPECIMENS OF SIX OF THE GREATEST CLASSICAL POETS OF PERSIA : FERDUSI, NIZAMl, SADl, JELAL-AD-DIN RUMi, HAFIZ, and JAMI WITH BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES AND NOTES. By S. ROBINSON. PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION. MDCCCLXXXIII. UKMVfiU;^Cl Y -^ I \i \i A H Y Impression : 300 Copies. irLAUEN & Sox, Printers, Welwngton Street, Glasgow. 1 PREFACE. O T many words are needful to preface the following work. Whilst yet in my early days, the life of Sir William Jones fell into my hands. By the reading of that, and his Commentaries on Asiatic Poetry and his other writings on the subject, I was bitten with a taste for Oriental Literature. This naturally led me to wish to read, in the original words, passages which had particularly struck me, and to know something of the languages in which they were written ; especially the Persian, with which I forthwith began to form an acquaintance. Then, for my own pleasure and improvement, I made occasionally versions of what had pleased myself, and might please others also, who had no time or inclination to study the languages themselves, but who might not be sorry to gain some general knowledge of what they con- tained of interest and information. I was accord- ingly tempted to print a very small edition of extracts from five or six of the most celebrated Persian poets, with short accounts of the authors, and of the subjects and character of their works. PREFACE. These accounts were not printed m a single volume or at once, but in small successive numbers rather than volumes — each author separately. They did not attract much attention at the time of their appearance ; partly from the few which were printed ; partly from the little pains that were taken to advertise them ; and still more so, perhaps, because the number of those who take an interest in a study not generally pojjulai- is very few. At all events, from the smallness of the impression, the circulation must have been very limited. More recently they have received some kindly and approving notices in one or two of the weekly journals and a few other publications ; the more pleasing to the Translator because coming from writers to whom he must be, personally, perfectly un- known. This has encouraged me — but not without much doubt and hesitation — to reprint my little books, but in a new form, and with somewhat altered views as to its destination. I have decided not to make my work public ; — I shall retain it in my own hands for private distribution only amongst friends, or for presentation to Free Libraries and other popular institu- tions, in which it may find some readers to whom it may afford a not unacceptable opportunity of forming an acquaintance with a foreign literature, very different from their own, and to which they might otherwise PREFACE. have no access in so compendious and convenient a form. There is one point upon which I am particularly anxious to be very frank, and to be perfectly under- stood by any who may be my readers. I make no claim to be regarded as a Persian " scholar," nor do I wish to be so regarded. My knowledge of the language is very imperfect. The only claim I make is this : that I have done my work — such as it is — laboriously and conscientiously. To repair my own defects I have sought assistance wherever I could find it. I could have done nothing satisfactory to myself without such aid. I have diligently compared my own translations, line by line and word by word, with the best texts which I could obtain, and with such translations as existed in English, French, and German. I trust, therefore, that, as regards the sense of the Persian originals, I am not greatly in error. As to the English garb in which I have clothed them, my readers must judge of that. It is very much on the score of my want of a scholarly mastery of the language (though combined with other causes) that, as stated above, I have had so much doubt and hesitation about reprinting my work, and I should not improbably have continued to doubt and hesitate, and finally .abandon the idea altogether, PREFACE. had not a somewhat accidental circumstance led me to reconsider the question. A gentleman of great literary ability, Mr W. A. Clouston, of Glasgow, had com- piled a very interesting collection of translations from the Arabic, combined with much valuable illustrative matter from his own pen, under the title of Arabian Poetry for English Readers, and \vrote to me to say how much he had been pleased with my translations from the Persian, a copy of which I had presented to the Library of the Glasgow University. This led us into an epistolary correspondence, in the course of which he urged so warmly his wish to see the work re- printed, most kindly offering at the same time to take upon himself the labour of conducting it through the press — which circumstances would have rendered almost impossible for me to do myself — that I was induced to withdraw my objections, and this volume is the result. The form it has assumed is the counter- part and twin-brother of Mr Clouston's own volume Arabian Poetry for English Readers — and with his name I am glad to associate it, for I cannot easily repay the obligation under which I lie to him for the trouble and care which he has bestowed upon my work. S. ROBIXSOX. Blackbrook Cottage, WiLMSLOW, December, 1S82. CONTENTS. F E R D U S I. PAGE I. Biographical Sketch 5 II. Character of His Writings 17 III. Zal and Rudabah : An Episode of the " Shah-Namah '' ... ... 27 IV. Miscellaneous Specimens of the "Shah Namah : " The Death of Dara (Darius) Iskandar's Conversations with the Brahmins Nushirvan's Address to the Grandees of Iran From Nushirvan's Letter to his Son Hormuz From the Mubid's Questions to Nushirvan, and his Replies : I. Children and Kindred 11. Destiny III. Hovif we may best serve God The Raja of India sends a chessboard to Nushirvan Ardashir's Address to the Nobles of Persia Last Words of Ardashir to his Son The Gardens of Afrasiab Introduction to the History of Hormuz Reflections on Old Age and Death Notes 58 64 66 67 72 73 74 75 93 94 96 99 CONTENTS. N I Z A M I. PAGE Preliminary Notice 105 Part First : His Life and Writings . I. Establishment of the Dates ... ... ... 109 II. Lineage of Nizami — his "Storehouse of Mysteries"... ... ... ... ... 115 III. The Kkosru and Shirin — Kizil Arslan ... 126 IV. The Laila and Jl/ajnfiu — The Prince of Shir- van — Nizami as Husband and Father 13? V. The "Alexander-Book" 151 VI. The ffe/i-Paiiar—Nizami's Death ... 166 P.4.RT Second : The " Alexander-Book : " I. Retrospect II. The Sources from which Nizami drew III. Apollonius of Tyana in the Alexander-Saga IV. The Introductory Narratives \'. Ale-xander as Philosopher \T. Alexander's Call to be a Prophet — the Book: of Wisdom VII. Commencement of the Journey — March to the West VIII. March through the South IX. March to the East X. March through the North— El-Dorado XI. Sickness and Death of Alexander ... XII. Fate of Alexander's Relatives and of the Seven Wise Men Additional Specimens '7j 176 I So IS4 198 205 209 217 220 227 233 236 235 CONTENTS. S AD I. PAGE Preliminary Notice 247 I. The " GuLisTAN," or Rose-Garden : From the Introduction 253 From the First Chapter — The Qualities of Kings 256 From the Second Chapter — The Qualities of Devotees 261 From the Third Chapter — The Excellency of Contentment 267 From the Fourth Chapter — The Advan- tages of Silence 270 From the Fifth Chapter — Love and Youth 271 From the Sixth Chapter — Weakness and Old Age 272 From the Seventh Chapter — The Effects of Education 573 From the Eighth Chapter — Maxims for the Conduct of Life 277 IL The " BostaN," or Pleasure-Ground : Introductory 284 From Book I. — On Uprightness and Government : The Tiger-Tamer 290 Last Words of Nushirvan 291 CONTENTS. SADI — Continued. PAGE Kingly Actions ... ... ... ... ... 292 Kingly Duties 293 The Frugal Monarch 294 Inscription on the Fountain of Jemshid... ... 296 The Grandee and the Beggar ... ... ... 296 Tokiah's Counsellor ... ... ... ... 297 Reply of a Devotee to a Complaining Sultan ... 298 Unselfishness ... ... ... ... ... 300 Selfishness ... ... ... ... ... ... 303 The Poor Man's Burthen is less heavy than the King's 304 From Book II. — Benevolence and Com- passion : Introductory ... ... ... ... ... 305 Orphanage ... ... ... ... ... 307 Abraham and the Fire-Worshipper 308 The Wise Man and the Cheat ... ... ... 310 The True Works of Piety ... ... ... 311 Humanity ... ... ... ... ... ... 312 The hard-hearted Man punished 313 Shabli and the Ant ... ... ... ... 316 Live not on the Labour of others 318 From Book III. — Love : Introductory ... ... ... ... ... 320 Humihty : the Glow-worm ... ... ... 321 The Unjustly Punished 322 The Moth and the Taper 323 The Same Subject 326 CONTENTS. xiii SADI — Conthiued. PAGE From Book IV. — Humility : Introductory ... ... ... ... ... 327 Humility ■■• ... 328 The Sinner and Jesus ... ... ... ... 330 From Book V. — Submission to Good Counsel : Introductory 334 The Camel and her Foal 335 From Book VI. — Contentment : Introductory 335 The Father and his Infant 337 Be Prepared for Vicissitudes 338 From Book VII. — Moral Education and Self-control : Introductory 339 Keep your own Secret 340 Speech and Silence 342 Calumny worse than Theft 343 How to bring up a Son 344 From Book VIII. — Thankfulness : Iiitroductory 346 King Toghrul and the Sentinel 348 From Book IX. — Conversion : Introductory 349 The Gold-finder 35' CONTENTS. S A D i — Continued. The Two Enemies Sadi and the Ring... The Bad Man and the Sheikh Ask Pardon in Time Sadi at the Grave of his Child From Book X. — Prayer : Introductory Supplication Notes Pace •• 353 •■ 355 •• 356 ■■ 357 •■ 358 ■• 359 .. 361 - 365 JELAL-AD-DlN RUMl. Preliminakv Notice Specimens or " The Mesnevi : " Divine AfTections The Lovers ... The Merchant and the Parrot 369 373 3/6 377 HAFIZ Preliminary Notice A Hundred Ghazels (or Odes) from his Divan Notes 385 397 497 CONTENTS. ] AMI. Preliminary Notice Joseph and Zulaikha : Invocation The Divine Greatness The Being of God, and Exhortation His service Praise of God The Poet's Prayer ... The Prophet's Journey to Heaven Beauty Love Adam's Vision Joseph Zulaikha Zulaikha's First Dream Silent Sorrow Zulaikha's Second Dream ... Her Third Dream ... The Ambassadors The Messenger and the Departure Deception Beginning of the Brothers' Envy Joseph's Dream Artful Counsel Deceitful Request The Well The Caravan The King of Egypt PAGE .. 511 to labour i CONTENTS. ]lM.\— Continued. PAGE Intelligence •■ 573 The Slave Market •• 57S Bazigha's Daughter .. 576 Love's Services ..581 Love Refused .. 582 Questionings and Answerings ■. .. 584 The Nurse ■•585 The Exculpation -587 The False Accusation •• 589 The Suckhng ■■ 591 Repentance ... ■ S94 The Visit to the Prison .. 596 The Terrace ... .. 600 The Two Officers of the King .. 603 The King's Dream ... .. 604 Joseph's liberation from Prison .. 607 The True Faith .. 608 Renewal of Youth and the Marriage .. 612 The Victory of Love .. 613 The Longed-for Death .. 616 The Double Death .. 620 The Poet's Address to Himself .. 626 Conclusion of the Work • • 631 Notes and Illustrations •• 63s Appendix : Sufiism, or the Doctrines of the Mystics of Lslan 1 643 FERDUSI. Praise be to the soul of Ferdusi, that blessed and happily endoived nature I He was not our Teacher and we his Disciples; he was our Lord and we his slaves! Unsari. ADVERTISEMENT. It may be proper to state that the substance of the following sketch of the Life and Writings of Ferdusi is a paper which was read in 1823, now many years ago, before the Literary and Philosophical Society of Manchester, and is printed in theif Transactions. It is now reprinted, with the passages originally selected newly translated and re-arranged, and with additional specimens of Ferdusi's Shah-Namah. S. R. Wilmslmo, 1876. ■'^■■■^^p^ t^^ ^PliSi c^6\^ ^?;i^ ^B'^ili^^^. FERDUSI. I.— BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. E R D U S I was born at Tus, a town of Khorasan, a province of Persia, about the middle of the tenth century of our era. He was of respectable parentage, his father being a gardener ; some say, in the service of the Governor. His father, according to the legend, had a dream, which made him con- sult a celebrated interpreter of dreams, who told him that his son would be a great scholar, whose fame would reach the four quarters of the earth. This encouraged him to give his son every advantage of edu- cation which he could aiford, and the child seconded his efforts by early showing extraordinary talents and 6 FERDUSI. making rapid advances in literature, learning, and poetry. His ardent love of knowledge is said to have attracted the attention of the poet Assadi, who assisted him in his studies, and encouraged his rising genius ; and to whose instructions he probably owed his taste for poetry, and that intimate acquaintance with history which led him afterwards to employ his muse in dignifying and embellishing the popular traditions of his country. At this period India was governed by the celebrated Mahmud, of Ghazni. The poets whom he favoured have sung his praises, and ascribed to him the possession of every virtue. He was certainly, at all events, a warm patron of literature ; and learned and ingenious men found a flattering reception at his Court. His chief amusements were poetry and history. Considerable collections had been made by several of the former monarchs of Persia of such legends and historical documents as seemed the most authentic ; and in the reign of Yezdejerd, the last king of the dynasty, before the Persian Empire was finally conquered and overthrown by the Mohammedans, that sovereign had assembled the learned Mubids, or Priests of the Fire- worshippers, and commanded them to compose from them a connected history of the countrj-, from the reign of the first king, Kaiumeras, to that of Khosru- Parvis, his immediate predecessor. This volume is said to have been sent, on the defeat of Yezdejerd, to the Khalif Omar, who at first intended to have it translated, but, finding it to consist of what he BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. deemed fictitious and immoral topics, abandoned the idea. The book was afterwards presented, it is added, to the King of Abyssinia, who had copies made of it and distributed through the East, and so preserved it from destruction. This part of the account, however, in itself very improbable, needs confirmation. The Vizier of Yakub-ben-Laith, about a.h. 260 (a.d. 873), by order of his sovereign, called together the most learned Mubids, and with their assistance, and, by the offers of valuable rewards to every one who would send him records or documents, formed from them a complete history of Persia down to the death of Yezdejerd. Mahmud had considerably added to these collec- tions, and it was his wish to possess a series of heroic poems composed from these materials. This appears to have been a favourite idea with some of the ancient Persian monarchs. The poet Dukiki was employed for this purpose by one of the princes of the race of Sassan ; or, as some say (for the accounts vary), of the family of Saman ; but, he dying by the hand of a slave after having written only two thousand verses, the design had been abandoned. It was afterwards resumed by Mahmud, who wished to add another glory to his reign by procuring the completion of this great work under his own auspices; and he accordingly enter- tained several poets at his court with this intention. Ferdusi, conscious of his genius, was inspired with S FERDUSI. an ardent desire of enjoying the reputation which would necessarily follow the successful accomplish- ment of so bold but glorious an undertaking. He communicated his plan to his friends at Tus, and, encouraged by them, composed a heroic poem on the delivery of Persia by Feridun from the tyranny of Zohak. This production was received with uni- versal applause, and introduced the poet to Abu Mansar, governor of Tus, who urged him to pro- ceed with ardour in the noble career on which he had entered, and gave him flattering assurances of success. Ferdusi has gratefully owned his obliga- tions to him, and has elegantly sung his praises at the commencement of his poem. Confident of his strength, Ferdusi now determined to repair to Ghazni, as to a proper theatre for the display of his genius, and the acquisition of that fame which he felt that he was destined one day to enjoy. As the story is told by Jami in his Baharistan, entering the city as a stranger, he saw three persons sitting in a garden, to whom he offered his salutations. These proved to be Ansari, Farrakhi, and Asjadi, three of the court poets, who, when they saw Ferdusi enter and approach them, unwilling to admit him into their society, agreed to repeat each a verse of a tetrastich, and to require the^stranger to supply a fourth rhyme, fancying that there was no fourth rhyme in the language, before they would allow him to do so. They accordingly recited each of them one of the followins: lines : BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. The moon's mild radiance thy soft looks disclose ; Thy blooming cheeks might shame the virgin rose ; Thine eye's dark glance the cuirass pierces through ; to which Ferdusi immediately replied — Like Poshun's javelin in the fight vifith Gu. To add to their mortification, the poets were obliged to confess their ignorance of the story to which he alluded, and which he narrated to them at length.' He soon established himself in the favour of Mahmud, who allotted to him the honourable task of composing the work which he had projected. Every evening he read to the Sultan what he had written during the day, and Mahmud was so much delighted with these specimens of his performance that, on one occasion, he promised him a gold dinar for every verse which he should write, but Ferdusi declined receiving any reward till the whole should be finished. At length, after the unremitted toil of thirty years, and in the seventieth year of his age, Ferdusi brought to a conclusion his immortal Poem, and presented it to the Sultan. But either envy and malice had been too successfully employed in depre- ciating the value of his labours, or possibly mingled feelings of avarice and bigotry on the part of the monarch induced him to bestow upon the poet a reward very inadequate to his deserts. According to another account, Hussain Maimandi, who (though not vizier, as some writers have said) FERDUSI. enjoyed much influence at court, and who for some reason had become his personal enemy, changed the promised sum of gold dinars into silver ones. Ferdusi was in the bath when the money was brought to him. The high-minded poet could not brook the insult. He divided the paltry present between the boy who bore it, the servant of the bath, and a vendor of sherbets, and, retiring to his closet, wrote an animated invective against the Sultan, of which the following is a specimen : Many kings have there been before thee, Who were all crowned with the sovereignty of the world ; More exalted than thou in rank, Richer in treasures and armies, and thrones, and diadems : But their acts were those only of justice and goodness ; They concerned themselves not about saving and spending ; They ruled with equity those under their hand, And were pure and pious worshippers of God ; They sought from the future only a good name, And seeking a good name found a happy ending : But those who are bound in the fetters of avarice Will be contemptible in the judgment of the wise. Thou wouldst not look upon this my Book, Thou turnedst away to speak evil words of me ; But whoever esteemeth my poetry lightly, Him will the circling heavens hardly regard with favour. I have put forth this Chronicle of Kings, Written in mine own beautiful language, And when I have come nigh my seventieth year My hopes at one stroke have become as the wind. Thirty years long in this transitory inn I have toiled laboriously in the hope of my reward, BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. And completed a work of sixty thousand couplets, Finished with the beauty and skill of the master ; Describing the deeds and weapons of war, And plains, and oceans, and deserts, and rivers, And wild beasts, and dragons, and monstrous giants. And the sorceries of man-wolves, and enchantments of demons, Whose yells and bowlings reach the heavens ; And men of mark in the day of the fight. And heroic warriors on the field of battle. And men distinguished for their rank and actions, As Feridun, and Afrasiab, and the brazen-faced Rustam, And Tahmuras, the powerful binder of demons. And Manuchaher, and Jamshid, the lofty monarch. And Dara, and Sikandar, the King of kings. And Kai-Khosru, who wore the imperial crown. And Kai-Kaus, Nushirvan, and a crowd of others. Champions in the tournament, and lions in the battle — Men who all lay dead in the lapse of ages, And to whose names my writings have given a new life. I lived, O King, a life of slavery In order to leave some memorial of thee. The pleasant dwelling may become ruin. Through the force of the rain and the blazing sun ; I nourished the desire of building in my verses A lofty palace which would defy destruction from wind and rain, And pass through generations in this chronicle. Which every man of intelligence would read : But of this thou broughtest me no good tidings. And the King of the earth gave me not a hope. During these thirty years I bore many anxieties. And in my Persian have restored Persia to life : And hadst thou, Ruler of the earth, not had the niggardly hand. Thou wouldst have led me to the place of honour ; And had intelligence come to the aid of the King, FERDUSI. Thou wouldst have seated me on a throne. But when he who wears the diadem is not of noble birth, He amongst crowned heads will receive no mention. Hadst thou, O King, been the son of a king, Thou wouldst have placed on my head a golden crown ; Had thy mother been a lady of royal birth, Thou wouldst have heaped up gold and silver to my knees. But he whose tribe can show no great man, Ought not to bear the name of the great. When I had worked painfully on this Book of Kings for thirty years. That the King might give me a reward from his treasury, That he might raise me to independence amongst the people, That he might exalt me amongst the nobles, — He opened the door of his tveasure-house, and gave me — My sole reward — a cup of barley-water : With the price of a cup of barley-water from the King's treasury, I bought me a draught of barley-water in the street. The vilest of things is better than such a King, Who possesseth neither honour, nor piety, nor morals ! But the son of a slave will never do aught of good, Though he should be father of a line of kings. For to exalt the head of the unworthy. To look for anything of good from them, Is to lose the thread which guideth your purpose. And to nourish a serpent in your bosom. The tree which is by nature bitter. Though thou shouldst plant it in the garden of Paradise, And spread honey about its roots — yea the purest honey-comli. And water it in its season from the Fountain of Eternity, Would in the end betray its nature, And would still produce bitter fruit. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 13 If thou shouldst pass through the shop of the seller of amber, Thy garments will retain its odour ; If thou shouldst enter the forge of the blacksmith, Thou wilt there see nothing but blackness. That evil should come of an evil disposition is no wonder, For thou canst not sponge out the darkness from the night. Of the son of the impure man entertain no hope, For the Ethiopian by washing will never become white. From the evil-eye expect no good ? It is only to cast the dust into thine own. Yet had the King had regard to his reputation. He would have deemed it a precious thing to tread the way of knowledge. In the institutes of the Kings, and in the old customs, Thou wouldst have found maxims such as these ; Thou wouldst have looked on my longings with another eye ; Thou wouldst not thus utterly have ruined my fortunes. For to this end I composed my lofty verses. That the King might draw from them lessons of wisdom ; That he might learn what it would be well to treasure in his thoughts. Of the words and counsels of the aged wise man ; And that never should he dare to injure the Poet, Nor even regard him with less than reverence : For the Poet, when grieved, will speak out his satire. And his satire will endure to the Day of Resurrection. O King Mahmiid, conqueror of kingdoms. If thou fearest not man, at least fear God ! For to the Court of the Holy One will I carry my complaint. Bowing down and scattering dust upon my head. In flying from Ghazni, to escape from the indigna- tion of Mahmad, Ferdusi passed through Kohistan, where he was kindly- received by Nasir ud din 14 FERDUSI. Mohtashm, its governor. Mohtashm had personal obligations to Mahmud, and finding afterwards that Ferdusi proposed to publish other writings reflecting on the conduct of the Sultan, he besought him to forego his intention, bestowing upon him at the same time a considerable sum of money. To this request Ferdusi acceded in the following verses : Although I was lacerated to the heart, my friend, By the injustice of that iniquitous King, For he had blighted the labour of thirty years. And my complaint had ascended from earth to heaven ; And though I had purposed to publish my complaint. And to spread the tale of his conduct throughout the world ; And though I could have spoken with scorn of his father and his mother. For I tremble at nothing, save the Throne of God ; And though I could have so blackened his reputation. That no water would ever have washed out the stain ; And, since he hath changed from friend to enemy, Would have laid him bare with the scalpel of my tongue ; — Yet, Mohtashm, thou hast commanded. And I know not how I can withdraw my head from thy com- mand. Therefore have I sent thee all that I still have by me of my writings ; Nothing have I withholden, or kept back for myself. If there be aught improper in the writings. Burn them with fire, wash them out with water. For myself, O generous Prince, I appeal from this to that Higher Court, Where God will listen in mercy to my plea, And at whose judgment-seat I shall receive justice. From Kohistan Ferdusi proceeded to Mazinderan, BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 15 where he spent some time at the court of a prince of that country, occupied principally in the revisal and correction of his great work. Still, however, appre- hensive of the effects of the Sultan's displeasure, he quitted this place to take refuge at Baghdad, where, as soon as he had made himself known, he was received with great distinction by Kader Billah Abassi, the reigning Khalif, at whose court he re- sided some time in tolerable tranquillity. But the fury of Mahmud still pursued him. He wrote to the Khalif to demand Ferdusi, threatening, in case of a refusal, to lead an army against him. The generous prince, unwilling to give up the man who had sought his protection, and unable to meet the Sultan in the field, was reluctantly obliged to dismiss him. He wrote to Mahmud, to inform him that Ferdusi had withdrawn himself from his protection ; and bestow- ing on the illustrious wanderer a considerable sum of money, advised him to seek an asylum with the princes of Yaman. To Tus, however, his native place, not to Yaman, did the poet proceed, where he died, at an advanced age, about the year 1021 of our era. It is added, that Mahmud, afterwards relenting in his anger, or perhaps fearing that his conduct would be viewed by posterity in a disgraceful light, sent the stipulated present to Ferdusi, with a conciliatory letter; that it arrived on the very day Ferdusi was buried; but that his daughter, to whom it was offered, refused it, saying that she would not accept 1 6 FEED US I. what had been denied to her father. Nasir Khosru, however, in proof that some gift was at last sent, relates in his Saffer-Namah, or Book of Travels, that when he was at Tus, in the year 437 of the Hajira, (a.d. 1045), he saw a splendid public edifice, newly erected, and was informed that it was built by order of Mahmud, with the money which the daughter of the poet had refused. It is proper to state that some of the circumstances mentioned in the preceding narrative are taken from a MS. account of the life of Ferdusi, which is prefixed to almost all the copies of his works. It forms a part of the preface to the corrected edition of the Shah- Namah, made by the order of Bayasanghar Khan, one of the descendants of the Emperor Timur, and published in the year of the Hajira 829 (a.d. 1425-6), and may be supposed, therefore, to contain all that was then known of the poet ; but it is the only detailed account of his life which we have, and as we possess few means of testing its perfect authen- ticity ; and as few Oriental Biographies, especially of their ancient authors, are written in a critical spirit, or with care or discrimination with regard to the col- lection and verification of the facts narrated, we can never place implicit reliance on their correctness. Ferdusi, however, was so illustrious a character, and his connection with Mahmud procured him so much notoriety, that probably the main circumstances of his life may be accepted as having been recorded with tolerable truthfulness. II.— CHARACTER OF HIS WRITINGS. I G H T hundred years have now elapsed since the publication of Ferdusi's great work, and it still continues to receive in the East that admiration with which it was hailed on its first appearance. Whatever, indeed, be the opinion which European readers may form of it, the Shah-Namah is con- fessedly the noblest production of Persian genius ; and the applause which has been bestowed upon it by some liberal and enlightened critics of the Western world may incline us to believe that all its merit does not depend upon mere Oriental prejudices. The assertion, indeed, that all the literary productions of the East are a tissue of absurd fictions and ideas, written in a barbarous and bombastic style, with few marks of adherence to truth and nature, is much too loose and general, and proceeds oftentimes from ignorance, or from false principles of judgment. This is not a suitable place for instituting an inquiry into the reality of the existence of a fixed standard of taste, which the varying conclusions of different writers on the subject might almost lead us to suspect ; it may not, however, be improijer to ob- serve, that the manners, customs, and opinions of c FERDUSr. every nation necessarily impart a peculiar character to its literary productions, -and that they ought not , to be tried without a reference to those customs and opinions. We may read the classical poets, and enjoy their mythology and ideas, and yet be dis- gusted with the modern poet, who, on the sanction of classical usage, presents to us the same assembly of the Gods, still controlling mortal events. We may sympathise with the despairing Roman, who invokes a Goddess, in whom he believes, to favour his passion, but shall accuse of affectation and coldness the modern poet, who addresses his vows to the same divinity. To relish thoroughly, therefore, the literature of any nation, we shall have to imbue ourselves with something of the spirit in which it was conceived, and familiarize ourselves with the prevailing ideas of the times which gave it birth. If we do this with regard to the works of Oriental writers, we may find in them, amidst many extrava- gant notions and false thoughts, not a few also calculated to delight the fancy and fill the mind with pleasing images, and improve it by wise coun- sels, compressed into pithy apothegms, in Eastern fashion. Why should we disdain to receive from the Persian fictions of a Ferdusi something of the pleasure which we derive from the mediaeval super- stitions of a Tasso, and the legendary traditions of our own ancient domestic history, and the still more ancient mythological fables of our Scandinavian fore- fathers ? CHARACTER OF HIS WRITINGS. 19 The Shah-Namah, or Book of Kings, is usually said to have contained 60,000 couplets, or 120,000 lines.'' It has been called by some an epic poem, by others a series of epic poems, but by neither with much propriety. It is in truth merely a historical poem, similar in many respects to our ancient rhyming chronicles, but highly embellished with all the ornaments of poetry and fable. It embraces the whole period of ancient Persian history, commencing with the reign of Kaiumeras, the first king, and ending with that of Yezdejerd, the monarch who governed Persia when that country was invaded and subjugated by the Arabs. Reign follows reign with undeviating exactness ; the natural order of events is rarely disturbed ; nor are the incidents of the Poem made conducive to the development of one great action, or to the inculcation of any grand moral truth. Sometimes, indeed, we may perceive a kind of action complete within itself, but we may generally trace it rather to the unity of some great historical event in itself, than to the design of the poet. As a work of art, therefore, the Shah-Namah is certainly defective ; and it is unjust, in endeavouring to estimate its merits, to bring it into comparison with the more regular and classical models of European invention. We might, indeed, liken it to the Orlando Furioso of Ariosto, to which it bears a considerable resemblance in several respects; particularly in the irregularities of its structure, the wildness of its incidents, and the neglect of strict method which characterises the muse FERDUSI. of that poet. Nor ought we to be so unreasonable as to condemn a performance because it is not written precisely on the plan which we should most have desired. It is sufficient, to establish the excellence of a work, that the author has done well what under the circumstances it was in his power to do. The plan of Ferdusi was chalked out for him ; and every one who has read any considerable portion of the Shah-Namah must be delighted at the admirable manner in which he has executed the difficult task imposed upon him. In taking a view of the genius of Ferdusi as a poet, the object which first strikes us is his amazing power of invention. The materials from which he composed the historical part of his work have unfortunately perished, so that we cannot exactly determine to what extent he enjoyed this power ; but that he possessed it in an extraordinary degree, no one who is conver- sant with his writings can for a moment doubt. The records with which he was furnished consisted, most probably, only of dry facts or fabulous legends. He might draw many of his stories, and the names of some of his principal heroes, from the popular tra- ditions of his country, but the form and character which he has given to the whole must be considered to be the fruit of his own creative genius. On a very narrow basis he has founded a structure, irregular indeed in its design, and unequal in its execution, but of so vast proportions, and, in particular parts, so highly finished, that we cannot contemplate it without sentiments of astonishment and admiration. CHARACTER OF HIS WRITINGS. 21 He has skilfully interwoven into his poem the whole range of Persian enchantment and fable, and has at the same time enlivened his narrative with so many agreeable episodes and adventures, that the attention of the reader is constantly diverted, and he is led on, generally without weariness or effort, through the pages of this stupendous performance. Whoever, indeed, considers the immense length of the work, the copiousness of the subject, and the variety which reigns throughout it, cannot fail to have a high opinion of the exuberance of the poet's fancy, and the uncommon fertility of his idear;. The originality of Ferdusi is scarcely to be ques- tioned. He had no one before him from whom to copy, and his excellencies are, therefore, wholly his own. His conceptions are in general lively and vigorous ; his thoughts bold and forcible ; his de- scriptions and narratives striking and animated. Everywhere, throughout his Poem, we feel the glow of a rich and ardent imagination. Ferdusi has made but little use of mythology. Events are generally brought about without the intervention of super- human agency; but the extraordinary qualities with which the poet invests some of his heroes, as it places us in a manner among another race of beings, may render the use of machinery an object of less importance. The minute and perfect delineation of character .is rarely the distinguishing excellence of very early poets. In a nation emerging out of barbarism, the FERDUSI. characters of men are in general sufficiently original and poetical, but they must be viewed in classes rather than as individuals. Those slighter traits which distinguish one individual from another of the same class can be called into existence only with the progress of refinement, or are too evan- escent to be observed till men begin to be brought into closer contact by the influence of society. Homer, great as he is in this respect, is inferior to Tasso in the fine discrimination of characters marked by the same general qualities. Ferdusi is -still inferior to Homer. Yet the characters of the Shah-Namah are, on the whole, well supported, and varied and contrasted with considerable skill, and there are a few which are touched with a delicacy and beauty hardly to have been expected in a poet of his age and country. The descriptions of Ferdusi are rich and tolerably varied ; and it is in the descriptive parts of his Poem that he will probably be thought by many to have displayed his happiest talent. Born in the favoured country of fiction and romance ; familiar from an early period of his life with the magnificence of the most powerful and splendid court of Asia ; it is not to be doubted that his mind must have been early impressed with scenes and stories, and imbued with associations, admirably calculated to make a deep impression on a naturally ardent and lively imagina- tion. His battles are painted in bold and lively colours; and when we read of pomps and proces- CHARACTER OF HIS WRITINGS. 25 sions, and royal banquets, and gardens and palaces, adorned with everything which wealth and power united can command, we have little difficulty in fol- lowing the poet in his loftier flights, and are scarcely disposed to criticise them as too bold, or the language in which they are conveyed as too luxuriant. His narratives are generally spirited and poetical ; his sen- timents just and noble ; his touches of real passion often appeal forcibly to the heart, and convince us that the poet felt the emotions which he describes. The dignity and beauty of the moral reflections which are liberally scattered throughout the work would alone render it highly valuable. The fol- lowing fine passage may be selected as an example : One thou exaltest, and givest him dominion, Another thou easiest as food to the fishes ; One thou enrichest with treasure, like Kariin, Another thou feedest witli the bread of affliction. Nor is that a proof of thy love, nor this of thy hatred ; For thou, the Creator of the world, knowest what is fit ; Thou assignest to each man his high or low estate : And how shall I describe thee?— Thou art what thou art ! We find in his poems many touches of tenderness and pathos, such as : Crush not yon emmet, at it draggeth along its grain ; For it hath life, and its sweet life is pleasant to it ; or, as Sir William Jones renders it : Crush not yond emmet, rich in hoarded grain ; It lives with pleasure, and it dies with pain ; 24 FERDUSI. for which Sadi, who cites it in the Bostan, invokes blessings on his departed spirit. The diction of Ferdusi is soft and elegant, but at the same time lively and animated ; his versification smooth and polished ; his style easy and natural. The Shah-Namah is written in the purest dialect of the old Persian, before it had received much admix- ture of Arabic words. Mohammed, who admired it for its extreme sweetness, used to declare that it would be the language of Paradise. Ferdusi is distinguished from all other Persian poets by that simplicity which is almost always the accompaniment of the highest order of genius. In thus speaking of his simplicity, it is not to be understood that many instances of bad taste and exaggeration may not be found in his writings; but still they show a wonderful freedom from those mere- tricious ornaments, puerile conceits, and affected forms of expression, which disgrace the best compo- sitions of his countrymen. It does not consist with the object of the present sketch to enter into a critical detail of the faults of Ferdusi. The Shah-Nainah, admirable as it is in many respects, is still a Persian poem, and the can- dour of European critics must be called upon to make large allowances for its imperfections. In so long a performance it is not wonderful that there are passages which are tedious, and that the action sometimes languishes. The minuteness of the poet sometimes degenerates into feebleness, and occa- CHARACTER OF HIS WRITINGS. 25 sionally becomes ridiculous. He has many weak and faulty verses. His figures are sometimes too gigantic or far-fetched, his thoughts sometimes forced and unnatural. His language occasionally is too inflated, and sometimes borders on extravagance. But these and other blemishes may be traced rather to the age and country in which he lived than to any defect of genius. " Had he been born in Europe," says the laborious editor of the first printed edition of the Shah-Namah, "he might have left a work more to our taste ; but, born anywhere, he could not fail to impress on his writings the stamp and character of his extraordinary powers. These are accordingly acknowledged and felt throughout the whole extent of the Mohammedan world, and will, I doubt not, be recognised in Europe, amidst all the vices of a Persian taste ; with which, indeed, he is much less tinctured, in my opinion, than any Persian poet I have ever read."' In fine, Ferdusi, in whatever light we contemplate him, was certainly a remarkable man ; and if genius be estimated, not by the absolute height which it reaches in the scale of excellence, but by the degree to which it has risen by its own unassisted efforts, that of Ferdusi may be thought to rival that of some who have produced more finished works, amidst more favourable opportunities of approaching towards per- fection. In the history of Persian literature, at least, the Shah-Namah must ever be regarded as a dis- tinguished object. It is a great storehouse whence 26 FERDUSI. succeeding poets have drawn their images and fables, and it has certainly had a very considerable influence on the literary productions of the country which gave it birth. Ferdusi has the rare merit of having identi- fied himself with the feelings and associations of his countrymen. His poems still continue to form the delight of the Oriental world, and must endure as long as the language in which they are written. To such a man, in the strength of conscious genius, it may, without much imputation of vanity, be permitted to exclaim, as he has done at the conclusion of his great undertaking : When this famous Book was brought to a conclusion, The face of the earth was filled with my renown ; And every one, who hath intelligence and wisdom and faith, After I am dead, will shower praises upon me. Henceforward I shall never die, for I have lived long enough To scatter abroad the seeds of eloquence.'' III.— zAl and rudabah. AN EPISODE FROM THE " SHAH-NAMAH." N selecting some specimens of Ferdusi's poetry, it has seemed advisable to the Translator to choose, in treating of a great heroic and narrative Poet, some portion in a sufficiently extended and connected form to exhibit his manner and power of telling a story, and to retain its dramatic character so far as to excite and sustain the interest of the reader. For this purpose he has fixed upon the episode of Zal and Rudabah, acknowledged to be one of the most beautiful portions of the Shah- Namah. Other parts of the Poem might, perhaps, furnish us with passages of greater sublimity, and more varied description, but few or none are marked by more tenderness and feeling, or a deeper know- ledge of human passions and affections ; qualities which, as they are less frequently found in the com- positions of Persia, render the genius of Ferdusi the more admirable. This episode, moreover, possesses the advantage of a certain unity of subject and plan, which renders it in some sort a short complete epic of itself. But to understand it better, it may be 28 FERDUSI. well to premise that Zal is the son of Sam Nariman, one of the generals of Manuchahar, King of Persia. Having the misfortune to be born with white hair, he incurs the disgust of his father, who orders him to be exposed on the savage mountain of Elburz, where he is nurtured by the Simurgh, an immense fabulous vulture which figures in the legends of Persia. After a time the affection of the parent is revived towards his child. He is recovered from the care of the Simurgh, and, arrived at manhood, is sent to govern the frontier province of Zabul ; the adjoining province of Kabul, though tributary to the Persian empire, being governed by its own king, named Mihrab. The episode commences with a visit which Mihrab pays to Zal, who receives him with distinguished honour, entertains him at a sumptuous banquet, and they separate with mutual respect. Then a chief of the great ones around him Said : " O thou, the hero of the world. This Mihrab hath a daughter behind the veil, ^^'hose face is more resplendent than the .sun ; From head to foot pure as ivory, With a cheek like the spring, and in stature like the teak-tree. Upon her silver shoulders descend two musky tresses. Which, like nooses, fetter the captive ; Her lip is like the pomegranate, and her cheek like its flower ; ZAL AND RUDABAH. 29 Her eyes resemble the narcissus in the garden ; Her eyelashes have borrowed the blackness of the raven ; Her eyebrows are arched like a fringed bow. Wouldst thou behold the mild radiance of the moon ? Look upon her countenance ! Wouldst thou inhale delightful odours? She is all fragrance ! She is altogether a paradise of sweets, Decked with all grace, all music, all thou canst desire ! She would be fitting for thee, O warrior of the world ; She is as the heavens above to such as we are ! " * On heaving this description, Zal becomes enamoured of the fair unseen. When Zal heard this description, His love leaped to the lovely maiden : His heart boiled over with the heat of passion, So that understanding and rest departed from him. Night came, but he sat groaning, and buried in thought. And a prey to sorrow for the not-yet-seen. Mihrab pays a second visit to Zal, and as he is returning his wife Sindocht and his daughter Rudabah espy him from a bal- cony, and stop him to make inquiries about the hero. " O beautiful silver-bosomed cypress. In the wide world not one of the heroes Will come up to the measure of Zal ! 30 PER D US I. In the pictured palace men will never behold the image Of a warrior so strong, or so firm in the saddle. He hath the heart of a lion, the power of an elephant, And the strength of his arm is as the rush of the Nile. When he- sitteth on the throne, he scattereth gold before him ; In the battle, the heads of his enemies. His cheek is ruddy as the flower of the arghavan ; Young in years, all alive, and the favourite of fortune ; And though his hair is white as though with age. Yet in his bravery he could tear to pieces the water- serpent. He rageth in the conflict with the fury of the crocodile. He fighteth in the saddle like a sharp-fanged dragon. In his wrath he staineth the earth with blood. As he wieldeth his bright scimitar around him. And though his hair is as white as is a fawn's, In vain would the fault-finder seek another defect ! Nay, the whiteness of his hair even becometh him ; Thou wouldst say that he is born to beguile all hearts ! " When Rudabah heard this description, Her heart was set on fire, and her cheek crimsoned like the pomegranate. Her whole soul was filled with the love of Zal, And food, and peace, and quietude were driven far from her. ZAL AND RUDABAH. 31 After a time Rudabah resolves to reveal her passion to her attendants. Then she said to her prudent slaves : " I will discover what I have hitherto concealed ; Ye are each of you the depositaries of my secrets, My attendants, and the partners of my griefs. I am agitated with love like the raging ocean. Whose billows are heaved to the sky. My once bright heart is filled with the love of Zal ; My sleep is broken with thoughts of him. My soul is perpetually filled with my passion ; Night and day my thoughts dwell upon his counten- ance. Not one except yourselves knoweth my secret ; Ye, my affectionate and faithful servants, What remedy now can ye devise for my ease ? What will ye do for me ? What promise will ye give me? Some remedy ye must devise. To free my heart and soul from this unhappiness." Astonishment seized the slaves. That dishonour should come nigh the daughter of kings. In the anxiety of their hearts they started from their seats. And all gave answer with one voice : " O crown of the ladies of the earth ! Maiden pre-eminent amongst the pre-eminent ! 32 FERDUSI. Whose praise is spread abroad from Hindustan to China ; The resplendent ring in the circle of the harem ; Whose stature surpasseth every cypress in the garden ; Whose cheek rivalleth the lustre of the Pleiades ; Whose picture is sent by the ruler of Kanuj Even to the distant monarchs of the A\'est — Have you ceased to be modest in your own eyes ? Have you lost all reverence for your father, That whom his own parent cast from his bosom. Him you will receive into yours ? A man who was nurtured by a bird in the mountains ! A man who was a by- word amongst the people ! You — with your roseate countenance and musky tresses — Seek a inan whose hair is already white with age ! You — who have filled the world with admiration, AVhose portrait hangeth in every palace, And whose beauty, and ringlets, and stature are such That you might draw down a husband from the skies!" To this remonstrance she makes the following indignant answer. When Rudabah heard their reply. Her heart blazed up like fire before the wind. She raised her voice in anger against them. Her face flushed, but she cast down her eyes. After a time, grief and anger mingled in her counten- ance. And knitting her brows with passion, she exclaimed : ZAL AND RUDABAH. 33 " O unadvised and worthless counsellors, It was not becoming in me to ask your advice ! Were my eye dazzled by a star, How could it rejoice to gaze even upon the moon ? He who is formed of worthless clay will not regard the rose. Although the rose is in nature more estimable than clay ! I wish not for Caesar, nor Emperor of China," Nor for any one of the tiara-crowned monarchs of Iran; The son of Sam, Zal, alone is my equal, With his lion-like limbs, and arms, and shoulders. You may call him, as you please, an old man, or a young ; To me, he is in the room of heart and of soul. Except him never shall anyone have a place in my heart ; Mention not to me any one except him. Him hath my love chosen unseen. Yea, hath chosen him only from description. For him is my affection, not for face or hair ; And I have sought his love in the way of honour." Her vehemence overcomes the reluctance of the slaves, and one of them promises, if possible, to contrive an interview. " May hundreds of thousands such as we are be a sacrifice for thee; May the wisdom of the creation be thy worthy portion ; May thy dark narcissus-eye be ever full of modesty ; 34 FERDUSI. May thy cheek be ever tinged with bashfulness ! If it be necessary to learn the art of the magician, To sew up the eyes with the bands of enchantment, We will fly till we surpass the enchanter's bird, We will run like the deer in search of a remedy. Perchance we may draw the King nigh unto his moon, And place him securely at thy side." The vermil lip of Rudabah was filled with smiles ; She turned her saffron-tinged countenance toward the slave, and said : " If thou shalt bring this matter to a happy issue. Thou hast planted for thyself a stately and fruitful tree. Which every day shall bear rubies for its fruit, And shall pour that fruit into thy lap." The story proceeds to say how the slaves fulfil their promise. They go forth, and find Zal practising with the bow. Busying themselves in gathering roses, they attract his attention. He shoots an arrow in that direction, and sends his quiver-bearer to bring it back. The slaves inquire who the hero is who draws the bow with so much strength and skill. The boy answers scornfully : " Do they not know that it is Zal, the most re- nowned warrior in the world ? " In reply, they vaunt the superior attractions of Rudabah. The boy reports their account of her to Zal, who goes to speak to them, receives from them a warm description of her charms, and presses them to procure for him the means of obtaining an interview. This little inci- dent is well imagined : it is Zal who is made to ask for the meeting, and the honour of Rudabah is not compromised. The slaves return to their mistress and report upon their mission, eulogising the goodly qualities of the hero. Her ironical answer to their former depreciation is animated and natural. ZAL AND KUDABAH. 35 Then said the elegant cypress-formed lady to her maidens : " Other than this were once your words and your counsel ! Is this then the Zal, the nursling of a bird ? This the old man, white-haired and withered ? Now his cheek is ruddy as the flower of the arghavan ; His stature is tall, his face beautiful, his presence lordly ! Ye have exalted my charms before him ; Ye have spoken, and made me a bargain ! " She said, and her lips were full of smiles. But her cheek crimsoned like the bloom of pome- granate. The interview takes place in a private pavilion of the Princess ; and the account of it is marked with more than one touch of truth and beauty : When from a distance the son of the valiant Sam Became visible to the illustrious maiden. She opened her gem-like lips, and exclaimed : " Welcome, thou brave and happy youth ! The blessing of the Creator of the world be upon thee ; On him who is the father of a son like thee ! May Destiny ever favour thy wishes ! May the vault of heaven be the ground thou walkest on ! The dark night is turned into day by thy countenance,; The world is soul-enlivened by the fragrance of thy presence ! 36 FERDVSI. Thou hast travelled, hither on foot from thy palace ; Thou hast pained, to behold me, thy royal footsteps ! " When the hero heard the voice from the battlement, He looked up and beheld a face resplendent as the sun. Irradiating the terrace like a flashing jewel. And brightening the ground like a flaming ruby. Then he replied: "O thou who sheddest the mild radiance of the moon, The blessing of Heaven, and mine, be upon thee ! How many nights hath cold Arcturus beholden me, Uttering my cry to God, the Pure, And beseeching the Lord of the universe, That he would vouchsafe to unveil thy countenance before me ! Now I am made joyful in hearing thy voice. In listening to thy rich and gracious accents. But seek, I pray thee, some way to thy presence ; For what converse can we hold, I on the ground, and thou on the terrace ? " The Peri-faced maiden heard the words of the hero ; Quickly she unbound her auburn locks. Coil upon coil, and serpent on serpent ; And she stooped and dropped down the tresses from the battlement. And cried : " O hero, child of heroes, Take now these tresses, they belong to thee. And I have cherished them that they might prove an aid to my beloved." ZAL AND RUDABAH. 37 And Zal gazed upward at the lovely maiden, And stood amazed at the beauty of her hair and of her countenance ; He covered the musky ringlets with his kisses, And his bride heard the kisses from above. Then he exclaimed : " That would not be right — May the bright sun never shine on such a day ! It were to lay my hand on the life of one already distracted ; It were to plunge the arrow-point into my own wounded bosom." Then he took his noose from his boy, and made a running knot. And threw it, and caught it on the battlement, And held his breath, and at one bound Sprang from the ground, and reached the summit. As soon as the hero stood upon the terrace. The Peri-faced maiden ran to greet him. And took the hand of the hero in her own, And they went like those who are overcome with wine. Then he descended from the lofty gallery. His hand in the hand of the tall Princess, And came to the door of the gold-painted pavilion. And entered that royal assembly. Which blazed with light like the bowers of Paradise ; And the slaves stood like houris before them : And Zal gazed in astonishment 38 PERDU SI. On her face, and her hair, and her stately form, and on all that splendour. And Zal was seated in royal pomp Opposite that mildly-radiant beauty ; And Rudabah could not rest from looking towards him, And gazing upon him with all her eyes ; On that arm, and shoulder, and that splendid figure, On the brightness of that soul-enlightening counten- ance; So that the more and more she looked The more and more was her heart inflamed. Then he kissed and embraced her, renewing his vows — Can the lion help pursuing the wild ass ? — And said : " O sweet and graceful silver-bosomed maiden, It may not be, that, both of noble lineage. We should do aught unbecoming our birth ; For from Sam Nariman I received an admonition. To do no unworthy deed, lest evil should come of it ; For better is the seemly than the unseemly, That which is lawful than that which is forbidden. And I fear that Manuchahar, when he shall hear of this affair, Will not be inclined to give it his approval ; I fear, too, that Sam will exclaim against it. And will boil over with passion, and lay his hand upon me. ZAL AND JiUDABAH. 39 Yet, though soul and body are precious to all men, Life I will resign, and clothe myself with a shroud — And this I swear by the righteous God — Ere I will break the faith which I have pledged thee. I will bow myself before Him, and offer my adoration, And supplicate Him as those who worship Him in truth, That He will cleanse the heart of Sam, king of the earth. From opposition, and rage, and rancour. Perhaps the Creator of the world may listen to my prayer. And thou mayest yet be publicly proclaimed my wife." And Rudabah said : " And I also, in the presence of the righteous God, Take the same pledge, and swear to thee my faith ; And He who created the world be witness to my words. That no one but the hero of the world. The throned, the crowned, the far-famed Zal, Will I ever permit to be sovereign over me." So their love every moment became greater ; Prudence was afar, and passion was predominant, Till the gray dawn began to show itself. And the drum to be heard from the royal pavilion. Then Zal bade adieu to the fair one ; His soul was darkened, and his bosom on fire. And the eyes of both were filled with tears ; And they lifted up their voices against the sun : 40 FERDUSI. " O glory of the universe, why come so quick ? Couldst thou not wait one little moment?" Then Zal cast his noose on a pinnacle, And descended from those happy battlements, As the sun was rising redly above the mountains. And the bands of warriors were gathering in their ranks. On returning to the camp Zal assembles his counsellors, and consults them as to what he should do. They advise him to write to his father, and be guided by him. Zal accordingly writes to Sam. In his letter he recalls to him in an affecting manner all the sufferings he had endured when abandoned by his parents in the mountains, conjures him to consent to his union with Rudabah, and reminds him of his promise, when reclaiming him from the Simurgh, that in all the future circum- stances of his life he would endeavour to efface the remembrance of his cruelty by a cheerful compliance with his wishes. Sam is greatly embarrassed by this letter. On the one hand he fears the reproaches of his son, on the other the anger of the King. He convenes the sages, and bids them declare what will be the result of the union. After the intense study of many days, they prophesy the birth of the famous Rustam. The astrologers came to Sam Nariman and said : " O Warrior of the Golden Belt, Joy will be to thee from the union of Zal and of the daughter of Mihrab. For they are two fortune-favoured equals. And from them shall be born a hero, in strength an elephant, Who shall gird his loins in manliness ; Who shall bear dominion on his sword, ZAL AND RUDABAH. 41 And shall exalt the throne of the King above the clouds. The evil-minded he will cut off from the land, Nor shall there remain a den on the face of the earth. He will leave neither monster nor Demon of Mazin- deran, And will sweep the earth with his mighty'mace. From him shall come many woes on Turan, And Iran shall enjoy all happiness. He will lull to sleep the head of the sufferer, And will close the door of sorrow, and the path of calamity. The hope of the Iranians shall be in him, And in him the joy and confidence of the warrior. His courser will bear the hero proudly in the battle, And he ^yill bruise the faces of the tigers of war ; And the furious elephants and the fierce lions Shall be annihilated beneath the club of the hero ; And the monarchs of Hindustan, and Rum, and Iran Will engrave his name on their seals. Fortunate will be the King in whose time His renown will exalt the royal dignity ! " On hearing this prophecy of the future greatness of his grand- son, Sam is reconciled to the marriage, but writes to Zal to withhold the celebration of it until he has been to the court of Manuchahar, and obtained the sanction of the King. Zal, transported with joy, immediately sends the letter to Rudabah. The messenger on her return is espied by her mother, and the secret correspondence of the lovers is discovered. The interview which follows between Sindocht and her daughter is thus de- scribed : 42 FERDUSI. Then, greatly troubled, she entered the palace, Full of pain, and anxiety, and sorrow ; She closed upon herself the door of her chamber, And was as one distracted by the tumult of her thoughts. She commanded her daughter to appear before her ; And she tore her cheeks with her hand, And she watered their roses with her tearful eyes. Till they became inflamed like the crimson rose. She said to Rudabah : " O precious girl. Why hast thou placed thyself on the brink of a precipice ? What is there left worth having in the world, AVhich I have not showed to thee openly and in private ? Why, my beauty, hast thou become so unjust to me ? Tell, I beseech thee, all thy secrets to thy mother ! Who is this woman, and whence doth she come. And what is the purpose for which she cometh to thee? What is the meaning of this message ? And who is the man For whom is intended this ring, and this beautiful turban ? " Rudabah looked down to her feet and the ground ; She stood abashed in the presence of her mother ; The tear of affection gushed from her eyes, And her cheeks were crimsoned with the burning drops. ZAL and RUDABAH. 43 Then she said to her mother : " O full of wisdom, Love is chasing my soul before it. Would that my mother had never given me birth ! That neither good nor evil had been uttered concern- ing me ! The warrior-hero came to Kabul, And so set my heart on fire with his love, That the world became contracted in my sight, And day and night I wept continually. I wish not for life except in his presence : One hair of his head is worth the whole world to me ! When at last he saw and conversed with me, We joined hand in hand and plighted our faith ; But, beyond seeing and conversing with one another. The fire of passion hath not inflamed us. A messenger was sent to the mighty Sam, And he returned an answer to the brave Zal. For a time the chief was distressed and reluctant. But he spoke and heard all that was needful ; And after consulting the aged Mubid, At last he yielded and gave his consent. To the messenger he gave many presents. And I also heard all the answers of Sam. The woman whose hair thou didst rend, Whom thou didst strike to the ground, and whose face thou didst lacerate, Was the messenger who was the bearer of the letter ; And this dress was my answer to the message." Sindocht was confused at her daughter's words. 44 FERDUSI. And in her heart approved of her union with Zal. She replied : " Here, indeed, there is nothing of little- ness ! Amongst the illustrious there is not a hero like Zal ; He is mighty, and the son of the warrior of the world ; Wise, and prudent, and of a noble soul. All excellencies are his, and but one defect ; And, compared with his excellencies, those of others are mean. But I fear that the King of the earth will be enraged with him. And will raise the dust of Kabul to the sun, For never will he suffer one of our seed on earth To place his foot in the stirrup." To the interview between the mother and daughter succeeds one between the wife and the husband. King Mihrab came joyful from the royal reception- hall. For Zal had bestowed on him much attention. He beheld lying down the illustrious Sindocht, Her face pale, and her heart troubled ; And he said to her : " What ailest thou ? And wherefore are the roses of thy cheeks faded ? " And Sindocht answered and said : " My heart is disturbed with many cares ; This collection of treasures and property. These Arabian horses trained and caparisoned. This palace and its surrounding gardens, This abundance of heart-attached friends. ZAL AND RUDABAH. 45 This band of servants devoted to their master, This diadem and this imperial throne, Our commanding presence and lofty dignity. And all our reputation for wisdom and knowledge, The fair face of our tall and elegant cypress \i.e. their daughter], All our splendour and all our royalty, By little and little are dwindling away ; Unwillingly we must resign them to an enemy, And count all our care and painstaking but as wind. One narrow chest will now suffice us. The tree which should have been the antidote is become the poison : We planted, cultivated, and watered it with care ; We hung a crown and jewels on its branches ; ' But when it had raised itself to the sun, and expanded its shade, It fell to the ground, and my life-stock with it. Such is the limit and end of our being ; Nor know I where we can find our rest.'' And Mihrab said to Sindocht ; " Thou hast only brought up anew the old story. This transitory inn is after this fashion : One is neglected, and another enjoyeth every comfort ; One arriveth and another departeth ; And whom see'st thou that Fate hunteth not down ? By anxiety of heart thou wilt never drive sorrow to the door ; There is no contending with the just God." 46 FERDUSI. Then said Sindocht : " How can I conceal from thee This secret and these weighty matters ? Know then that the son of Sam Hath secretly ensnared the affections of Rudabah. He hath led her noble soul astray from the right path, And now nothing remaineth for us but to find some remedy. Much counsel have I given her, but it availeth no- thing ; I see her still pale-faced and dejected. Her heart still full of pain and sorrow, Her parched lips ever breathing the cold sigh." When Mihrab heard this, he leaped to his feet ; He laid his hand on the hilt of his sword, His body trembled, and his face became livid ; His bosom filled with wrath, and his lips with deep groans. "This instant," he exclaimed, "the blood of Rudabah I will pour out like a river on the ground." When Sindocht saw this, she sprang to her feet, She seized the belt round his body with both her hands. And exclaimed : " Hear one word ; Give ear one moment to thine inferior ; And afterwards do as thy reason telleth thee. As thy heart and thy guiding wisdom shall prompt thee." He writhed and flung her from him. ZAL AND RUDABAH. 47 He uttered a cry like a furious elephant ; And exclaimed : " When a daughter made her appear- ance, I ought to have instantly commanded her to be slain ! I killed her not ; I walked not in the way of my ancestors, And this now is the trick that she hath played me. But him who departeth from the way of his fathers The brave will not account to have sprung from his loins. If the hero Sam shall join with King Manuchahar, And they prove their power against me in war, The smoke will go up from Kabul to the sun ; Neither dwelling will be left, nor corn-field, nor voice of salutation." Sindocht replied : " O defender of the marches, Let not thy tongue utter such wild words. For the warrior Sam is already informed of this affair ; Banish from thy mind this terror, and disquiet, and anxiety." Mihrab rejoined : " O my mildly-radiant beauty. Say not a word that is spoken deceitfully ; My bosom would be free from trouble, If I saw thee secure from injury. Than Zal a son-in-law more estimable There could not be either amongst the princes or the people : Who might not desire the alliance of Sam, From Ahwaz even to Kandahar ! " 48 FERDUSI. Sindocht answered : " O exalted chief, What occasion for deceitful words ? Thy injury is plainly my injury, And thy troubled soul is bound up in mine ; Therefore didst thou see me so troubled also, Sunk down in grief, and all joy gone from my heart ! But should this come about, why would it be so wonderful, That thou shouldst take so dark a view of it ? Feridun approved of the maidens of Yaman, And this hero, who seeks to subdue the world, but followeth the same path : For from fire, and water, and earth, and air. The dark face of the ground is changed to brightness.'' Mihrab gave ear to the words of Sindocht, But his head was still full of vengeful thoughts. And his heart still boiled over with passion. Then he gave his commands to Sindocht : " Rouse up, and bring Rudabah before me." But Sindocht was afraid of the lion-hearted man. Lest he should strike Rudabah to the earth. " First," she said, " thou shalt give me a promise. That thou wilt restore her unhurt to my arms ; And that that heavenly flower shall not be swept away from the garden. And the land of Kabul be emptied of its roses. Thou shalt take first a solemn oath, That thou hast washed out vengeance from thine heart." ZAL AND RUDABAH. 49 The warrior gave his word, That Rudabah should suffer no harm : ■" But," he said, "consider that the Master of the earth Will be full of indignation at what hath been done, And that neither father, nor mother, nor home will be left. And that Rudabah herself will perish in a river of blood." When Sindocht heard this she bowed down her head, And placed her face on the ground ; And came to her daughter with smiles upon her lips, And a face open as the dawn when it riseth on the night. She told her the good news, and said : " The furious tiger Hath withdrawn its grasp from the wild-ass ; — The hero Mihrab hath sworn by the righteous God A strong oath, and hath set his name thereto. That he will not touch in anger a braid of thine hair. Now therefore bring forth quickly all thine ornaments. And show thyself before thy father, and lament what hath happened." *' But why," said Rudabah, " with all my ornaments ? Why place the valuable beside the valueless ? My soul is wedded to the son of Sam, And why conceal what is so clear ? " She appeared before her father like the rising sun, Immersed in a blaze of gold and rubies — E 50 FERDUSI. A charming angel from the realms of Paradise, Or a glorious sun in the smiling spring. When her father beheld her he stood fixed in astonish- ment, And secretly invoked the Creator of the world. " O thou," he exclaimed, " who hast washed out reason from thy brain. How is this fulness of jewelry beseeming thee ? Is it befitting that a Peri unite herself with Aherman [the Evil principle] ? Rather let my crown and my ring perish ! If a serpent-charmer from the desert of Khoten should show himself as a magician. Would it not be right to slay him with an arrow? " When Rudabah heard these words her heart burnt within her. And her face was crimsoned with shame in the sight of her father ; Her dark eye-lids fell over her grief-swollen eyes, She stood motionless, and drew not a breath. Filled, heart and head, with hostility and passion. Her father groaned in his rage like a roaring tiger. Rudabah returned heart-broken to the house. Her pale yellow cheek alternating with red ; And mother and daughter sought refuge with God. Meanwhile information of what has happened reaches the ear of Manuchahar. He is greatly disturbed by it, and sends to summon Sam to his court. Sam obeys the summons, and is received by the King with great distinction. He is com- ZAL AND RUDABAH. 51 manded to relate the history of his wars in Mazinderan ; and in answer to the inquiries of the monarch about his battle with the Dives, or demon-inhabitants of the country, he thus replies : " O King, live prosperously for ever ! Far be from thee the designs of the evil-minded ! I came to that city of warlike Dives — Dives ! — rather ferocious lions ! They are fleeter than Arabian horses, More courageous than the warriors of Iran ; Their soldiers, whom they name Sagsar [Dog-heads], You would think were tigers of war. When the news of my arrival reached them, And they heard my shout, their brains were bereft of reason ; They raised a tremendous clamour in their city. And issued forth in mass. And collected an army so immense, That the dust thereof obscured the brightness of the day. Then they rushed towards me, seeking the battle, Like men insane, hurrying and in confusion. The ground trembled, and the sky was darkened, As they filled the hills and the valleys. A panic fell upon my army. And I could not but be filled with anxiety At the serious turn which matters had taken ; But I shouted aloud to my dispirited soldiers. 52 FERDUSI. And raised my ponderous club, And urged forward my iron-hard charger. Then I came and clove the heads of the enemy, So that from dread of me they lost their reason : At each assault I struck down a hundred bodies ; At every blow of my mace I made a Dive rub the ground ; Like feeble deer before the strong Hon, They fled affrighted at the ox-headed club. An aspiring grandson of the bold Salm Came on like a wolf to meet me in the battle. The name of the ambitious chieftain was Kakavi, Beautiful of countenance, and tall as a cypress ; By his mother he was of the race of Zohak. The heads of proud warriors were as dust before him ; His army was as a host of ants or locusts ; Its multitude concealed the plain and the slopes of the mountains. When the dust arose from the approaching squadrons. The cheeks of our soldiers turned pale ; But I raised my death -dealing mace, and urged them forward. And led them onward to meet the enemy ; I shouted so loud from the saddle of my war-horse. That the earth seemed to whirl like a mill about them ; Courage resumed its place in the breasts of our warriors. And with one determination they rushed to the battle. ZAL AND RUDABAH. 53 When Kakavi heard my voice, And saw the wounds of my head-smashing club, He came to meet me like a mad elephant, seeking to wound me. He desired to entangle me with his long noose ; But when I saw him I leaped out of way of destruc- tion, And grasping my Kaianian bow. And selecting my choicest steel-pointed arrows, I darted them upon him like swift eagles. And poured them upon him like fiery rain ; His head, massive as an anvil, I thought to have nailed to his helmet. When I saw him through the dust. Coming on like a mad elephant, his Indian sword in his hand. It came into my mind, O King, That the very hills were about to ask grace for their lives. He in haste, and I slowly, I pondered how I might take him in my grasp ; And- when the warrior rushed down upon me, I stretched out my arm from my war-horse. Seized the courageous hero by the belt. Lifted him up lion-like from the saddle, And furious as an elephant dashed him to the ground, So that his bones were crushed to atoms. When their commander was thus laid low, His army turned back from the field of battle : 54 FERDUSr. On every side they crowded in bands, Filling the heights and the slopes, the plains and the mountains. When we numbered the slain, horse and foot. We counted twelve thousand, who had fallen in the field; The soldiers, and town's-people, and valiant horsemen Amounted to thirty hundred thousands. What weight hath the power of the evil-minded Against thy fortune and the servants of thy throne ? " When Sam had finished his narrative Manuchahar commands him to assemble an army, to march against Mihrab, to devastate his country, and extirpate his family. Sara dares not disobey, and sets off to execute his commission. On the way he encoun- ters his son, who earnestly implores him to suspend his purpose and permit him to go, and himself urge his suit before the King. Sam consents and seconds his request in a letter to Manuchahar, in which he recounts his services, and in particular that of having slain a terrible dragon which had long desolated the country. " If I had not appeared in the land. The heads would have been cut off even of those who bear them the highest. When the huge Dragon came up from the river Kashaf, And made the ground bare as the palm of my hand. His length was as the distance from city to city. His breadth as the space from mountain to mountain. He filled the hearts of all men with terror, And kept them all on the watch night and day. ZAL AND RUDABAH. 55 I looked, and saw not a bird in the air, Nor a beast of prey on the face of the ground ; His flames burnt the feathers of the vulture. The grass withered beneath his poison, He drew the fierce water-serpent up from its waters, And the soaring eagle down from its clouds ; The earth was emptied of man and beast. And every thing abandoned its habitation to him. When I saw that there was no one in the land Who was able to crush him with the strong hand, Relying on the power of the Sovereign of the world, ■God the Pure, I cast all fear from my heart ; I girded my loins in the name of the Most High, I vaulted into the saddle of my massive war-horse. Grasped in my hand the ox-headed mace. And, my bow on my arm, and my shield at its neck. Rushed forward like a furious crocodile — t with the strong wrist, he with his venom ; And each one who saw by the mace that I was about to encounter the Dragon Exclaimed to me as I passed, ' Farewell ! ' I came, I beheld him, huge as a mountain. Trailing his cord-like hairs upon the ground. His tongue resembled the black-tree [the upas ?], His jaws open and stretched out on the way, His two eyes were like two basins of blood. He saw me, roared, and sprang upon me with fury : I thought, O King, so it appeared to me. That his inside must be filled with fire. 56 FERDUSI. The world appeared to my eyes like an agitated ocean; A black smoke went-up darkly to the clouds, The face of the earth trembled at his cry, From the venom the ground was like the sea of China. But, as was becoming a valiant man, I shouted with the voice of a lion, Placed without delay in my long cross-bow A choice poplar arrow pointed with adamant, Aimed the shaft right at his jaws, That I might nail his tongue to his palate ; I pierced it on one side with the arrow. And he lolled it out in utter bewilderment. In an instant another arrow like the first I aimed at his mouth, and he writhed from the wound. . A third time I struck him in the midst of his jaws, And the boiling blood rushed from his vitals. But, as he narrowed the ground before me, I upraised the vengeful ox-headed mace. In the strength of God, the Master of the Universe, Urged on my elephant-bodied charger, And battered him in such wise with its blows. That you would say the sky was raining down moun tains upon him. I pounded his head as though it was the head of a mad elephant, And from his body streamed the poison like the river Nile; Such was the wound that he never rose again, And the plain was levelled to the hills with his brains; The river Kashaf became a river of bile : ZAL AND RUDABAH. 57 But the earth was once more an abode of sleep and quiet ; And the hills were covered with men and women, Who called down blessings upon me." Zal arrives at the court of Manuchahar. The King is highly pleased with his appearance and the proofs which he gives of his wisdom and couiage ; but his fears still make him hesitate to grant his request, and it is not till he has consulted the astrologers, and received from them a favourable answer, that he sanctions it with his approval. Zal then returns joyously to Kabul, to communicate the glad tidings to Rudabah. The nuptials are celebrated with great pomp, and the offspring of the marriage is the hero Rustam — the Hercules of Persia — whose deeds and adventures fill many subsequent pages of the Shah-Namah. IV.— MISCELLANEOUS SPECIMENS OF THE SHAH-NAMAH. The Death of Dara (Darius). ' I ""HE Viziers came to Iskandar and said : " O King, crowned with victories and knowledge, We have just slain thine enemy. Come to an end is his diadem and the throne of princes.'' When Janusyar had thus spoken, Iskandar said to Mahyar : " The enemy ye have cast down — where is he ? Show me the nearest road thither." They went before him, and the King of the Greeks followed, His heart and his eyes filled with tears of blood. When he came near, he saw that the face of Dara Was pale as the flower of the fenugreek. And his breast clotted with gore. Having commanded that they should quit their horses And keep guard over the two ministers. Swift as the wind, Iskandar dismounted from his charger. THE DEATH OF DARA. 59 And placed on his thigh the head of the wounded man. He looked to see whether Dara was still in a condition to speak, Passed both his hands over his face, AVithdrew the royal diadem from his head. Unclasped the warlike breastplate from his breast. And rained down a flood of tears from his eyes, when he saw the wounded body, And the physician far away. " May it go well with thee," he exclaimed, " And let the heart of the malevolent tremble ! Raise thyself, and seat thyself on this golden cushion. And, if thou hast strength enough, place thyself in the saddle. I will bring physicians from Greece and India ; I will shed tears of blood for thy sufferings ; I will restore to thee thy kingdom and thy throne, And we will depart as soon as thou art better. When, yester-evening, the old men told me what had happened, My heart swelled with blood, my lips uttered cries. We are of one branch, one root, one body-garment. Why, through our ambition, should we extirpate our race ? " ' When Dara heard, with a weak voice he replied : " May wisdom be thy companion for ever ! I believe that from thy God, the just, the holy. Thou wilt receive a recompense for these thy words. But for what thou hast said, that Persia shall be mine. 6o FERDUSI. Thine be the throne and the crown of the brave, Nearer to me is death than a throne ; My fortune is turned upside down; my throne is at an end. Such is the determination of the lofty sphere ;° Its delights are sorrows, and its profit is ruin. Take heed that thou say not, in the pride of thy valour, ' I have been superior to this renowned army.' Know that good and evil are alike from God, And give Him the praise that thyself art still alive. I am, myself, a sufficient example of this ; And my history is a commentary upon it for every one. For what greatness was mine, and sovereignty, and treasure ! And to no one hath suffering ever come through me. What arms and armies too were mine ! And what quantities of horses, and thrones, and diadems ! What children and relatives — Relatives whose hearts were stamped with my mark. The earth and the age were as slaves before me. So was it as long as Fortune was my friend ; But now I am severed from all my happiness. And am fallen into the hands of murderers. I am in despair about my children and my kinsmen ; The world is become black, and my eyes are darkened. No one of my relatives cometh to my assistance ; I have no hope but in the Great Provider, and that is enough. THE DEATH OF DARA. 6l Behold me, wounded and stretched upon the ground ! Fate hath ensnared me in the net of destruction. This is the way of the changeful sphere With every one, whether he be king or warrior. In the end all greatness passeth away ; It is a chase in which man is the quarry, and Death is the hunter.'' Iskandar rained tears of anguish from his eyes over the wounded King, As he lay stretched upon the ground. When Dara perceived that the grief was from his heart, And saw the torrent of tears which flowed from his pale cheek. He said to him : " All this is of no avail. From the fire no portion is mine but the smoke ; This is my gift from the All-giver, And all that remaineth of my once brilliant fortune. Now give me thine ear from first to last ; Receive what I say, and execute it with judgment." Iskandar replied . " It is for thee to command ; Say what thou wilt, thou hast my promise." Rapidly Dara unbound his tongue ; Point by point he gave instructions about everything : " First, illustrious Prince, fear thou God, the Righteous Maker, Who made heaven and earth and time ; who created the weak and the strong. Watch over my children, and my kindred, and my beloved veiled women. 62 FERDUSI. Ask of me in marriage my chaste daughter, and make her happy in thy palace ; To whom her mother gave the name of Roshank, And in her made the world contented and joyful. Thou wilt never from my child hear a word of chiding, Nor will her worst enemy utter a calumny against her. As she is the daughter of a line of kings, So in prudence she is the crown of women. Perhaps she will bring thee an illustrious son, Who will revive the name of Isfandyar, Will stir up the fire of Zoroaster, Take in his hand the Zendavesta ; Will observe the auguries and feast of Sadah, and that of the New Year, Renew the splendour of the Fire-temples of Hormuzd, The Sun, the Moon, and Mithra ; Will wash his face and his soul in the waters of wisdom, Re-establish the customs of Lohrasp, Restore the Kaianian rites of Gushtasp ; Will treat the great as great and the little as little. Rekindle religion, and be fortunate." Iskandar answered : " O good-hearted and righteous King, I accept thy injunctions and thy testament ; I will remain in this country only to execute them. I will perform thy excellent intentions ; I will make thy intelligence my guide." THE DEATH OF DAK A. 63 The Master of the world siezed the hand of Iskandar, And wept and lamented bitterly ; He placed the palm of it on his lips, and said to him : " Be God thy refuge ! I leave thee my throne, and return to the dust ; My soul I leave to God the Holy." He spoke and his soul quitted his body, And all who were about him wept bitterly. Iskandar rent all his garments. And scattered dust on the crown of the Kaianians. He built a tomb for him agreeably to the customs of his country. And suitable to his faith and the splendour of his rank. They washed the blood from his body with precious rose-water. Since the time of the eternal sleep had arrived. They wrapped it in brocade of Rum, Its surface covered with jewels on a ground of gold. They hid it under a coating of camphor. And after that no one saw the face of Dara any more. In the tomb they placed for him a dais of gold, And on his head a crown of musk. They laid him in a coffin of gold, And rained over him from their eyelids a shower of blood. When they raised the coffin from the ground. They bore it, turn by turn. Iskandar went before it on foot. 64 FERDUSI. And the grandees followed behind, shedding tears of anguish. So they proceeded to the sepulchre of Dara, And placed the coffin on the dais, performing all the ceremony due to kings ; And when they had completed the magnificent monu- ment. They erected gibbets before it, and executed the murderers. Iskandar's Conversation with the Brahmins. T SKANDAR asked the Brahmins about their sleep and their food ; How they enjoyed their days of tranquillity ; and how they supported the dust of the battle : " What is your portion of the delights of the world. For Fortune never separateth the poison and the antidote ? " One of the sages replied: "O Conqueror of the world ! No one speaketh here of fame or of battle. We have no wants as to clothing, reposing, or eating. Since man cometh naked from his mother, He ought not to be very delicate in the matter of raiment. Hence he will return naked to the earth, ISKANDAR AND THE BRAHMINS. 65 And here he will find a place of fear, and of sickness, and of anxiety. The ground is our bed, and our covering the sky, And our eyes are set upon the road. Waiting for that which Time may bring with it. The ambitious man laboureth excessively for some- thing Which, after all, is little worth the labour ; For when he leaveth this temporary place of refuge. He must leave behind him also his crown and his treasures. His sole companions will be his good deeds. And he and all that he hath will return to the dust." One of the Brahmins said to him : " O Monarch, Close thou for us the door of Death." He replied : " With Death, vain are all petitions ! What rescue can there be from the sharp claws of that dragon ? For wert thou of iron, from them thou couldst not escape. Youthful as he may be, he who remaineth long here Will from old age find no deliverance." The Brahmin answered : " Then, King, Puissant, and learned, and worthy of empire, Since thou knowest that for death there is no remedy, And that there is no worse affliction than old age. Why give thyself so much pains to win the world ? 66 FERDUSI. Why madly persevere to smell its poisoned flower ? The misery thou hast caused will remain after thee ; The fruits of thy trouble and thy treasure will go to thine enemies.'' Nushirvan's Address to the Grandees of Iran. T EAVE not the business of to-day to be done to- ^-^ morrow, For who knoweth what to-morrow may be thy con- dition ? The rose-garden which to-day is full of flowers, When to-morrow thou wouldst pluck a rose, may not afford thee one. A\'hen thou findest thy body vigorous, Then think of sickness, and pain, and infirmity. Remember that after life cometh the day of death ; And that before death we are as leaves before the wind. Whenever thou enterest on a matter sluggishly, Thou wilt execute it feebly. If thou sufferest passion to get the mastery over prudence. Thou wilt need no witness to attest thy folly. The man who talketh much and never acteth Will not be held in reputation by any one. By crookedness thou wilt render thy paths the darker. NUSIHRVAN TO HIS SON HORMUZ. 67 But the road towards rectitude is a narrow one. Even a matter in which thou hast pre-eminent ability will turn to evil, If thou doest it with dulness and inactivity. If thy tongue allieth itself with falsehood, No splendour from the throne of heaven will reach thee. A crooked word is the resort of weakness. And over the weak we can only weep. If the King rouseth himself from sleep to mount his throne, He will enjoy sound health, and be safe from his enemy. The prudent man will abstain from luxurious living ; And all that goes beyond our actual needs proceedeth from greediness. And is full of pain and anxiety. If the King is endowed with justice and liberality. The world will be full of ornament and beauty ; But if crookedness enter into his counsels, His meat will be the bitter gourd, and his water will be blood. From Nushirvan's Letter to his son Hormuz. T HAVE thought it meet to write this serious Letter •*- to my child. Full of knowledge, and true in the faith : 68 FERDUSI, May God give him happiness and a prosperous fortune ! May the crown and throne of empire be his in per- petuity ! In a fortunate month, and on a day of Khurdad [light- giving], Under a happy star and brilliant omens, We have placed on thine head a crown of gold. As we in like manner received it from our father. And we remember the blessing which the happy Kobad Conferred on our crown and throne. Be thou vigilant ; be master of the world ; be intelligent ; Be thou of a generous disposition, and do harm to no one. Increase thy knowledge, and attach thyself to God ; And may He be the guide to thy soul. I inquired of a man whose words were excellent. And who was mature in years and in intellect : " Who amongst us is the nearest to God ? Whose path towards Him is the clearest ? " He replied : " Choose knowledge, If thou desirest a blessing from the Universal Provider : For the ignorant man cannot raise himself above the earth ; And it is by knowledge that thou must render thy soul praiseworthy." It is by knowledge that the King becometh the orna- ment of his throne : NUSHIRVAN TO HIS SON HO R MUZ. 69 Gain knowledge, therefore, and be thy throne vic- torious ! Beware thou become not a promise-breaker ; For the shroud of the promise-breaker will be the dust. Be not a punisher of those who are innocent ; Lend not thine ear to the words of informers. In all thy business let thine orders be strictly just ; For it is by justice that thy soul will be rendered cheerful. Let thy tongue have no concern with a lie, If thou desirest that thou shouldst reflect a splendour on thy throne. If any one of thy subjects accumulate a fortune. Preserve him from anxiety about his treasure ; For to take aught from his treasure is to be the enemy of thine own : Rejoice in that treasure which thou hast gained by thine own care. If the subject shall have amassed wealth, The monarch ought to be his sustainer ; Every one ought to feel secure in thine asylum, However exalted he may be, or however humble. AVhoever doeth thee a kindness, do him the same ; Whoever is the enemy of thy friend, with him do battle. And if thou comest to honour in the world. Bethink thee of pains of body, and sorrow, and calamity. Wheresoever thou art, it is but a halting-place ; 70 FERDUSl. Thou must not feel secure, when thou sittest down in it. Seek, then, to be deserving ; and seat thyself among the wise. If thou desirest the favours of Fortune. When thou placest on thine head the diadem of sovereignty, Seek ever the better way beyond that which is good. Be charitable to the wretched ; keep thyself far from all that is bad ; And fear for the calamity which thou permittest. Sound the secret places of thine own heart, And never show a magnanimity or justice which is only on the surface. Measure thy favours according to merit ; And listen to the counsels of those who have seen the world. Be inclined to religion, but keep thine eye on the Faiths, For from the Faiths proceed jealousies and anger amongst men. Manage thy treasury in proportion to thy treasure, And give thy heart no anxiety about its increase. Regard the actions of former kings. And take heed that thou be never otherwise than just. Where are now the diadems of those Kings of kings ? Where are those princes, those great ones so favoured by Fortune ? Of their acts they have left nothing behind them but the memory : That is all ; for this transient resting-place remaineth to no one. NUSHIRVAN TO HIS SON HORMUZ. 71 Give not command recklessly to spill blood, Nor lightly engage thine army in war. Walk in the ways of the Lord of Sun and Moon, And hold thyself afar from the works of demons. Keep this Letter before thee night and day. And sound reason perpetually in thy heart. If thou doest in the world what deserveth remem- brance, Thy name will not perish for lack of greatness. The Lord of Goodness be ever thy refuge ; May earth and time be ever favourable to thee ; May sorrow have no dominion over thy soul ; And may the hand of cheerfulness for thee never be shortened ! May fortune be ever thy slave ; And may the heads of those who wish evil to thee be abased ! May the star of thy destiny ascend to the ninth heaven ; And may the Moon and Jupiter be the protectors of thy throne ! May the world be irradiated from the splendour of thy crown ; And may kings be servants in thy court ! When he had written this Letter, he consigned it to his treasury. And continued to live in this transitory world in fear and trembling. 72 FERDUSI. From the Mubid's questions to Nushirvan, and his replies. i. — c hildren and kindred. T T E said to him : " What is the pleasure of having ■*■ ^ children ? And why desire to have a family ? " He gave answer : " He who leaveth the world to his children Will not himself be forgotten. When he hath children life has a savour, And its savour will keep vice at a distance ; And, when he is passing away, his pangs will be lessened, If a child be looking on his paling countenance. Even he who liveth to do good will pass away. And Time will count out his respirations." "Wherefore, then," he said, "praise virtue. Since Death cometh and moweth down alike the good and the evil ? " He replied : " Good deeds Will obtain their full value in every place : The man who died doing good actions is not dead — He is at rest and hath consigned his soul to God ; But he is not at rest who remaineth behind, And leaveth in the world a bad report." The Mubid said : " Of evil things there is nothing worse than Death ; THE MUBJD AND NUSHIRVAN. 73 How can we make provision against that ? " He answered him : " When thou passest away from this sombre earth, Thou wilt find a brighter abode ; But he who hath lived in fears and remorse Is compelled to weep over a life so spent. Whether thou be king, or whether thou be of the low- born, Thou wilt have passed away from the terrors and the sorrows of the world." He said : " Of these two things which is the worst. And which will cause us the greatest pain and unhapi- ness ?" He replied : " Be assured that nothing will press upon thee with the weight of a mountain, If it come as a multitude, like Remorse. In the world there is nothing so strong as Remorse ! What terror is there, if it be not the terror of Remorse ? " II. — D E S T I N Y. 'T'HE Mubid asked : " What are we to think of the -^ action of the heavenly sphere ? Interpret to me its revelations and its mysteries. Are we to accept and approve its operations. Even if its mutations bring with them what seems not salutary ? " 74 FERDUSI. He gave answer : "This aged sphere, Though it is charged with knowledge and memories ; Though it is great, and powerful, and loftier than aught else ; And though it is lord above all lords. Follow not thou its ordinances, nor approve them ; Look not to it for advantage or disadvantage. Know that evil and good are from Him that hath no partner ; Whose operations have no beginning and have no end. When He says BE ! it is done to His hand ; He Was, and ever AVas ; and Is, and ever Is." III. — How WE MAY BEST SERVE GOD. QEAT thyself always in the society of the wise. And strive after those enjoyments which are eternal ; For earthly enjoyments will pass away, And the wise man will not reckon them enjoyments. Incline thine affections to learning and knowledge, For these must show thee thy way towards Clod. Do not let thy words go beyond measure, For thou art but a young creature, and the world is old. Suffer not thyself to be intoxicated by the revolutions of Fortune, THE CHESSBOARD. 75 And let thy companionship not be with evil men. Tear away thy heart from that which cannot be, And bestow all that it is in thy power to bestow. Withhold not whatsoever thou hast from a friend, Even if he ask for thine eye, thy brain, or thy skin. If a friend would settle an account with a friend. Let him not admit an intermediate in the matter. If thou must have intercourse with an evil-minded man, Give him no opportunity of laying his hand upon thee. If any one would open the path of intimacy. Take care that he is a man of virtue, and modesty, and gentleness. Let not thy tongue go beyond thy merits. For the just man will not number false pretences as merits : He will not hold any one great for his possessions, Nor, on the other hand, esteem any one mean for his poverty. The Raja of India sends a Chessboard to nushirvan. "\ 1 /"HEN this heart-absorbing question was brought to an end. My narrative must proceed to the subject of Chess.'" 76 FERDUSI. A Mubid related, how one day the King Suspended his crown over the ivory throne, All aloes-wood and ivory, and all ivory and aloes ; Every pavilion a court, and every court a royal one ; All the Hall of Audience crowned with soldiers ; Every pavilion filled with Mubids and Wardens of the Marches, From Balkh, and Bokhara, and from every frontier — For the King of the world had received advices From his vigilant and active emissaries. That an Ambassador had arrived from a King of India, With the parasol, and elephants, and cavalry of Sind, And, accompanied by a thousand laden camels, Was on his way to visit the Great King. When the circumspect Monarch heard this news. Immediately he despatched an escort to receive him. And when the illustrious and dignified Ambassador Came into the presence of the Great King, According to the manner of the great, he pronounced a benediction. And uttered the praise of the Creator of the world. Then he scattered before him abundance of jewels. And presented the parasol, the elephants, and the ear-rings ; The Indian parasol embroidered with gold. And inwoven with all kinds of precious stones. Then he opened the packages in the midst of the court, And displayed each one, article by article, before the King. THE CHESSBOARD. 77 Within the chest was much silver, and gold, And musk, and amber, and fresh wood of aloes. Of rubies, and diamonds, and Indian swords, Each Indian sword beautifully damascened ; Every thing which is produced in Kanuj and Mai Hand and foot were busy to put in its place. They placed the whole together in front of the throne, And the Chief, the favoured of wakeful Fortune, Surveyed all that the Raja had painstakingly collected, And then commanded that it should be sent to his treasury. Then the Ambassador presented, written on silk. The letter which the Raja had addressed to Nushirvan ; And a chessboard, wrought with such exceeding labour, That the pains bestowed upon it might have emptied a treasury. And the Indian delivered a message from the Raja : " So long as the heavens revolve, may thou be established in thy place ! All who have taken pains to excel in knowledge. Command to place this chessboard before them. And to exert their utmost ingenuity To discover the secret of this noble game. Let them learn the name of every piece. Its proper position, and what is its movement. Let them make out the foot-soldier of the army. The elephant, the rook, and the horseman. The march of the vizier and the procession of the king. 78 FERDUSI. If they discover the science of this noble game, They will have surpassed the most able in science. Then the tribute and taxes which the King hath demanded I will cheerfully send all to his court. But if the congregated sages, men of Iran, Should prove themselves completely at fault in this science, Then, since they are not strong enough to compete with us in knowledge. Neither should they desire taxes or tribute from this land and country : Rather ought we to receive tribute from you, Since knowledge hath a title beyond all else." Khosru gave heart and ear to the speaker. And impressed on his memory the words which he heard. They placed the chessboard before the King, Who gazed attentively at the pieces a considerable time. Half the pieces on the board were of brilliant ivory. The other half of finely imaged teak-wood. The nicely-observant King questioned him much About the figures of the pieces and the beautiful board. The Indian said in answer : " O thou great Monarch, All the modes and customs of war thou wilt see, When thou shalt have found out the way to the game ; The plans, the marches, the array of the battle-field." He replied : " I shall require the space of seven days ; THE CHESSBOARD. 79 On the eighth we will encounter thee with a glad mind." They furnished forthwith a pleasant apartment, And assigned it to the Ambassador as his dwelling. Then the Mubid and the skilful to point out the way Repaired with one purpose to the presence of the King. They placed the chessboard before them, And observed it attentively time without measure. They sought out and tried every method, And played against one another in all possible ways. One spoke and questioned, and another listened, But no one succeeded in making out the game. They departed, each one with wrinkles on his brow ; And Buzarchamahar went forthwith to the King. He perceived that he was ruffled and stern about this matter. And in its beginning foresaw an evil ending. Then he said to Khosru : " O Sovereign, Master of the world, vigilant, and worthy to command, I will reduce to practice this noble game ; All my intelligence will I exert to point out the way." Then the King said : " This affair is thine affair ; Go thou about it with a clear mind and a sound body, Otherwise the Raja of Kanuj would say, ' He hath not one man who can search out the road,' And this would bring foul disgrace on my Mubids, On my court, on my throne, and on all my wise men." 8o FERDUSI. Then Buzarchamahar made them place the chessboard before him, And seated himself, full of thought, and expanded his countenance. He sought out various ways, and moved the pieces to the right hand and to the left. In order that he might discover the position of every piece. When, after a whole day and a whole night, he had found out the game, He hurried from his own pavilion to that of the King, And exclaimed : " O King, whom Fortune crowneth with victory. At last I have made out these figures and this chess- board. By a happy chance, and by the favour of the Ruler of the world. The mystery of this game hath found its solution. Call before thee the Ambassador and all who care about it ; But the King of kings ought to be the first to behold it. You would say at once, without hesitation, It is the exact image of a battle-field." The King was right glad to hear this news ; He pronounced him the Fortunate, and the bearer of good tidings. He commanded that the Mubids, and other counsel- lors. And all who were renowned for their wisdom should be assembled ; THE CHESSBOARD. 8r And ordered that the Ambassador should be sum- moned to the Presence, And that he should be placed on a splendid throne. Then Buzarchamahar, addressing him, said : " O Mubid, bright in council as the sun, Tell us, what said the King about these pieces, So may intelligence be coupled with thee for ever ! " And this was his answer : " My Master, prosperous in his undertakings. When I was summoned and appeared before him. Said to me : ' These pieces of teak and ivory Place before the throne of him who weareth the crown. And say to him— Assemble thy Mubids and coun- sellors. And seat them, and place the pieces before them. If they succeed in making out the noble game. They will win applause and augment enjoyment : Then slaves and money, and tribute and taxes, I will send to him as far as I have the means ; For a monarch is to be esteemed for his wisdom. Not for his treasure, or his men, or his lofty throne. But if the King and his counsellors are not able to do all this. And their minds are not bright enough to compre- hend it. He ought not to desire from us tribute or treasure, And his wise soul, alas ! must come to grief; G 82 FERDUSI. And when he seeth our minds and genius to b( subtler than theirs, Rather will he send them to us in greater abundance.' ' Then Buzarchamahar brought the chess-men anc board, And placed them before the throne of the watchfu King, And said to the Mubids and counsellors : " O ye illustrious and pure-hearted sages, Give ear all of you to the words he hath uttered. And to the observations of his prudent Chief" Then the knowing-man arranged a battle-field, Giving to the King the place in the centre ; Right and left he drew up the army. Placing the foot-soldiers in front of the battle. A prudent vizier he stationed beside the King, To give him advice on the plan of the engagement ; On each side he set the elephants of war [our bishops] To support one another in the midst of the combat. Further on he assigned their position to the war steeds [our knights]. Placing upon each a horseman eager for the battle. Lastly, right and left, at the extremities of the field. He stationed the heroes [the rooks] as rivals to each other. When Buzarchamahar had thus drawn up the army. The whole assembly was lost in astonishment ; But the Indian Ambassador was exceedingly grieved. THE CHESSBOARD. 83 And stood motionless at the sagacity of that Fortune- favoured man. Stupefied with amazement, he looked upon him as a magician, And his whole soul was absorbed in his reflections. " For never hath he seen," he said, " a chessboard before, Nor ever hath he heard about it from the experienced men of India. I have told him nothing of the action of these pieces, Not a word have I said about this arrangement and purpose. How then hath this revelation come down upon him ? No one in the world will ever take his place ! " And Khosru was so proud of Buzarchamahar, Thou mightest say that he was looking Fortune in the face. He was gladdened at his heart, and loaded him with caresses, And ordered him a more than ordinary dress of honour, And commanded to be given him a royal cup Filled to the brim with princely jewels, And a quantity of money, and a charger and a saddle, And dismissed him from the Presence overwhelmed with praises. 84 FERDUSI. Ardashir's Address to the Nobles of Persia. "\^ /"HEN from Greece to China, from Turistan to . Hindustan, The world had become brilliant as the silk of Rum, And tribute and customs had been gathered in from every province, And no one had strength to resist its Lord, Ardashir called together all the grandees of Persia, And seated them according to their ranks on their princely thrones. Then the Master of the world stood up and uttered good and righteous words : " O most illustrious men of your country, Who have all of you your portion of intelligence and wisdom, Know that the swiftly-revolving sphere is not indul- gent through justice, Nor holdeth out its arms through benevolence. Every one whom it willeth, it exalteth to dignity ; And whomsoever it willeth, it abaseth to the sombre dust : • Nothing but his name will remain on the earth. And all the fruits of his anxiety will pass into oblivion. Strive notfthen for anything except a good name, All ye who hope for a good end. Turn thou to God ! — open thyself to God ! ARDASHIR TO THE NOBLES. 85 For He it is who possesseth, and can augment thy felicity. In every evil let the Lord of the universe be thy refuge, For He it is who hath the power over good and evil. He can make easy to thee every difficulty j From Him cometh heart-cheering and victorious fortune. First of all, take example from my own affairs ; Renew the memory of my own past, good and evil. As soon as I made the Ruler of the world my refuge, My heart was rejoiced with the crown and royalty ; And the lands of the seven zones became my kingdom. As He, in His sovereign authority, judged proper. Whoever shall oifer Him praise worthy of His works, Perchance his service He will remember, And show to him His greatness and His power. Stretch forth all ye your hand's towards God ; Labour and faint not in your compact with Him. For He is the giver, and He is the possessor. And He is the painter of the lofty skies. To him who hath suffered oppression He will bring assistance. Glorify not yourselves, any of you, in the face of His glory. Let each one beware how he setteth his heart upon fraud ; After the rise followeth the descent. Hold not any one knowledge in contempt. Whether he be subject or king; 86 FERDUSI. For never doth the word of the wise man become old. The dread of committing a fault is more than the fetters and prison of the King. One thing also I will tell you, Which is higher than aught that you have seen or thought : Happy he who hath made the world happier, And whose secret acts and open ones are all the same. Happy, too, he who has a soft voice, and an intelli- gent mind. And a modest air, and earnest speech. Watch over thine expenditure, for he who through vain glory Spendeth uselessly what he hath on empty follies Will receive neither return nor praise from anyone. Nor the approval of him who serveth God. If thou choose the middle way, thou mayest keep thy place, And men of sense will pronounce thee wise. To pass quietly through the world four paths lie before thee. Which thou mayest tread in piety and faith ; In which thou mayest increase thy health of body and peace of mind. And taste the honey without the poison. First, through ambition or avarice, attempt not to go Beyond what the bounty of the All-giver hath assigned thee : Whoever is contented, he is rich ; ARDASHIR TO THE NOBLES. 87 For him the rose-tree of the fresh spring leaveth innumerable fiowers. Secondly, court not battles and glory, For battles and glory bring with them grief and pain. Thirdly, keep thine heart afar from sorrow, And be not anxious about the trouble which is not yet come. Fourthly, meddle not in a matter which is not thine : Pursue not the game which concerneth not thee. O thou who wouldst penetrate to the marrow of the subject. Break off thy heart from this old hostelry, For, like you and me, it hath seen many guests, Nor will it suffer any one long to rest within it. Whether thou be king, or whether thou be servant. Thou must pass on, whilst itself remains permanent Whether thou be in sorrow, or whether thou be enthroned and crowned, Thou must at a word bind up thy package. If thou art made of iron. Destiny will wear thee down, And when thou art aged he will not fondle thee. When the heart-delighting cypress is bowed. When the sad narcissus is weeping, When the rosy cheek is saffron. When the head of the joyous man is heavy. When the spirit slumbereth, and when what was erect is bowed down — Wouldst thou remain alone, the companions of thy journey all departed ? Whether thou be monarch, or whether thou be subject, 88 FEED US I. No Other resting-place shalt thou have than the dark earth. Where are the mighty ones with their thrones and crowns ? Where are the horsemen elated with victory ? Where those bold and intelligent warriors ? Where those valiant and exalted chieftains ? Their only pallet now is the earth and a few bricks — Happy, if only they have left a fair fame ! " Last words of Ardashir to his Son. T' ""HE foundation of a King's throne may be shakert in three ways : First, because the King is an unjust one ; Secondly, because he bringeth forward an unprincipled man, And exalteth him above the virtuous one ; Thirdly, when he expendeth his riches on himself. Or laboureth only to make his treasure more. Make thyself conspicuous for justice and liberality. And suffer no false person to come nigh unto thee. Falsehood darkeneth the countenance of a King ; An evil-minded man will lose all his splendour. Take heed that thou guard not thy treasure too closely. For men through money fall into affliction. ARDASHIR TO HIS SON. 89 Whenever the King is seized with the passion of avarice, He exposeth the bodies of his subjects to suffering. Exert thyself to keep anger at a distance ; Close thine eye as in sleep to the fault of the misdoer. If thou yieldest to anger, shame will follow thee. When he maketh his apology, apply the remedy — forgiveness. When the King abandoneth himself to anger. The wise man will esteem him of little worth. Since it is a fault in a King to wish evil to any one, He should study to fill his heart with kindness. Such is the action of the revolving sphere, Sometimes it bringeth pain, and sometimes gladness. Sometimes Fortune is like a vicious horse. And in the midst of thy prosperity its caprice involveth thee in misfortune. At another time it is a charger at full speed, Tossing its head on high in its good will. Know, my son, that this palace of deception Will not permit thee to enjoy thyself without terrors. Watch over thy body and over thy mind, If thou desirest that thy day should not turn to evil. When the King payeth homage to religion. Religion and royalty are brethren ; Nor can religion be stable without royalty, Nor can royalty be permanent without religion : They are two foundations interlaced with one another. Which intelligence hath combined in one. 90 FERDUSI. Religion cannot do without royalty, Neither can royalty be maintained without religion : They are like tvs'o sentinels keeping guard over one another Under the same tent [or cloak] ; Neither can this one do without that, Nor can that one do without this : Thou wouldst say that they are two partners. Associated for the purpose of doing good. Leave not till to-morrow the business of to-day ; Nor place upon a throne one who counseleth to evil. Fear the evil men who contrive evil in secret. For from bad men who work in secret cometh the misery of the world. Trust not thy secret to a confidant. For he, too, will have his associates and friends. And it will be spread abroad through the whole city. And men will call thee weak-headed. And the wise ones will tell thee that anger becometh thee not. In no wise ask about the faults of others. For he who reporteth the faults of others will report thine also : And if passion gaineth the mastery over reason. The wise will not count thee amongst men. The sovereign of the world, who should be benevolent to every one, Ought to be a man of intelligence ; ARDASHIR TO HIS SON. 91 And God forbid that one of sharp and arrogant dis- position, Who turneth not away from calumnies and reproaches, Should take his place beside thee, Or be a counsellor and guide to thee. If thou desirest that the pure in heart should praise thee, Lay aside anger and vengeance when thou becomest King. Be not a man of many words. And parade not thy virtues in the face of others. Listen to every word, and remember the best ; And look well before thou takest any one to thy heart. Weigh well thy words in the presence of the learned ; Show to every one a courteous demeanour and a pleasant countenance. Treat not with contempt the poor petitioner ; And seat not the malevolent man upon a throne. If any one asketh pardon for his fault, receive it. And take not vengeance for a past injury. Be a just judge and a providence to all : Happy the man who is generous and patient ! When thine enemy feareth thee, he will use flattering words ; But do thou then array thine army, and sound the drum, And throw thyself into the battle, Till his hand become weak and he retire. 92 FERDUSI. But if he seek peace, and thou seest that he is sincere. And that there is no falsehood in his heart, Take tribute from him, and seek not vengeance, And have respect to his honour. Adorn thy mind with knowledge, for knowledge maketh thy worth ; And when thou knowest, practise what thou knowest. If thou art generous, thou wilt be beloved ; And with justice and knowledge thou wilt become illustrious. Lay to thy soul the injunctions of thy father, And preserve them for a memorial to thy children. When I have left to my children their rightful heritage, I shall have done an injury to no one. And thou, do not neglect these my injunctions. And do not for an instant pervert my words. Turn towards the good, and let the bad be as the wind. Grieve not my spirit by any perversity, nor my frail body with fire. Employ not thy power, O my son, to do evil to others, And seek not to pain or afflict any one. Now I am prepared for my departure : Commit me to the tomb, and do thou ascend thy throne. I have borne many sorrows in the world. Some in public, others in secret ; Gladden my spirit by thy justice, and be victorious and joyful on thy throne ! THE GARDENS OF AFKASIAB. 93 The Gardens of Afrasiab. EEST thou yonder plain, so red and yellow, ^-^ Which might fill the heart of a brave man with delight ?— All grove, and garden, and running waters ; A place fit for a Court of Heroes ! The ground pictured silk, and its air fragrant with musk ; Thou mightest almost say, that its streamlets were rose-water. The stalk of the jasmine bendeth beneath its load. The rose is the idol, and the nightingale its worshipper. The pheasant strutteth about in the midst of flowers ; The turtle-dove cooeth, and the nightingale warbleth from the cypress. From the present moment to the latest times The banks of its rivulets will resemble Paradise. Fairy-faced damsels wilt thou see on every hill and in every dale. And seated in gay groups on every side. There, Manisha, the daughter of Afrasiab, Maketh the whole garden dazzling as the sun ! There, Sitarah, his second daughter, sitteth in royal glory amidst her attendants. Adorning the plain and eclipsing the rose and the lily! All veiled and lovely maidens, all tall and elegant as the cypress, 94 FERDUSI. All graced with musky ringlets, All with rosy cheeks and sleepy eyes, All with ruby lips, and sweet as rose-water. Were we to make a single day's journey, And rush suddenly on that palace of delights. We might capture some of those fairy-faced damsels. And make ourselves precious in the sight of Khosru, Introduction to the History of Hormuz. 'T'HE month Tammuz [July] smiled at the red apples, And sportively rallied the apple-tree about its fruit and its leaves : Where is that nosegay of roses which in the spring- tide, Drunk with joy, thou didst wear in thy bosom — Which from its colour breathed a hue of modesty. And from its stalk exhaled a perfume of tenderness ? What hast thou done with it? — who hath been the purchaser of it ? Where didst thou find for it so capital a market ? Who hath given thee in exchange for it those corne- lians and emeralds, The great weight of which boweth down thy branches? Assuredly, thou must have asked a good price for thy flowers. FROM THE HISTORY OF HORMUZ. 95 And thus adorned thy cheek with those lovely colours ! A hue of bashfulness tingeth thy neck ; Thy garment is scented with a musky fragrance. Perchance thou hast stolen the sheen of thy robe from Jupiter ; Thy pearls thou hast spotted with drops of blood. Thy bosom is become emerald, thy skin violet ; Thy head is more exalted than the standard of Kawa [the standard of Persia]. With thy garment, become russet, and yellow, and white, Thou hast rendered me hopeless of the leaves of thy blossom. mine idol ! O my spring ! whither att thou gone ? Why hast thou hidden the ornament of thy garden ? The autumn still exhibiteth the perfume of thy zephyrs. In a cup of wine I will renew thy memory ; When thy colours shall have become yellow, I will yet praise thee ; 1 will still adorn thee as the diadem of Hormuz : And if to-day my marketing be successful. Thou shalt yet see traces of me after my death. 96 FEKDUSI. Reflections of Ferdusi on Old Age and Death. "\ ^ THAT sayeth the ambitious chief of the village, my teacher ? What of the mutations of the revolving spheres ? One day we are climbing, another we are descending ; Now we are cheerful, and now we are in anxiety. Our end is a pillow upon the dark earth ; For one in high places, for another in a ditch. We have no token from those who are departed, Whether they are awake and happy, or whether they are asleep. In this world, however little of happiness hath been our portion. Yet have we no desire for death. Whether thou be'st a hundred years old, or whether thou be'st twenty and five, It is all one, when the memory cometh to thee of the day of anguish. Whether he can speak of life as cheerful and delicate. Or whether he speak of it as full of pain, and anxiety, and sorrow. Never yet have I seen any one who wished to die : Whether he was one who had strayed out of the right wa}', or whether he was one of virtuous habits ; Whether he was one of the faithful, or whether he was an impious adorer of idols, When Death cometh he will place both hands upon his head. OLD AGE AND DEATH. 97 When, old man, thy years shall have passed sixty and one, The cup and the wine and repose will have lost their savour ; And the man who hath attained sound sense and wisdom \Vill not attach his heart to this transitory resting- place. Of thy friends, many will remain behind, and many will have gone before ; And thou, with thy cup, wilt have been left alone in the desert. If thou dost not well consider in the beginning what thou hast to do, Repentance without remedy will be thy portion at the end. Rejoice not, if thou hast done evil ; For thou wilt have injured thyself, if thou shalt have injured another. However many years thou mayest still be here, Know that thy departure will come at last ; Therefore increase in goodnes.s so long as thou art here. That, when thou departest, in that thou mayest still be joyful : According to our words and deeds in this life, Will be hereafter the remembrance of us in the world. For myself, from the revolution of the spheres I ask only. That so much time and so much cheerfulness of spirit may be left me, 98 FERDUSI. That these histories and these traditions, which \\ become ancient, And over which so may years have passed, From the time of Kaiumeras [the first king] to tha Yezdejerd [the last], I may connect together and dis])erse abroad by writings ; And may clear this garden of its deforming weeds, And revive the words and deeds of the King of kir Then will I not grieve to depart, And abandon this temporary halting-place. NOTES. 1 Other accounts say that this encounter took place, not fortuitously at the entrance of Ferdusi into Ghazni, but in a court or garden of the King's palace, and in his presence : a kind of competitive examination. Probably neither account is much to be trusted as absolutely correct, and is to be received only as an illustration of Oriental ideas and feeling about the Poet. 2 This is very likely only an approximative estimate, Mr. Turner Macan, the learned and laborious editor of the printed edition of the Shah-Namah, in 4 vols., Calcutta, 1829, says in the Preface, vol. I, page 39: " B'erdusi himself alludes to this number, but it may be doubted if he did not calculate in a loose and general manner, and without having counted the verses. But whatever number of couplets this poem may have originally contained, I have never seen a manuscript with more than fifty- six thousand six hundred and eighty-five, including doubtful and spurious pass.iges. The present edition contains fifty-five thousand two hundred and four, exclusive of the Appendix." It is not wonderful that, in so long a work, preserved for so many centuries only in M.SS., transcribed by so many hands, . and in so widely separated countries, many variations of readings and many omissions and discrepancies should have crept into the copies. Rather it is wonderful that they should have main- tained such resemblance as still exists. 3 Preface to Lumsden's edition of Ferdusi, Calcutta, 181 1, page 3. This, the first attempt at a printed text of the original, was intended to have been produced in eight volumes folio, and FERDL-Sl. to have comprised the whole of the Shak-Namah. But, thoug the editor received the patronage and aid of the East Indi Company, he was unhappily obliged to abandon his task, fo which great preparation had been made and under most favoui able circumstances, on account of the expense of printing, &c.- It may not be unsuitable to mention here, that the magn; ficent edition of the Shah-Namah, undertaken by the lat Professor Mohl, at Paris, under royal and imperial authorlt) with an elegant translation into French on the opposite page which had slowly reached its fifth volume in folio, is suspende for the present by the death of its lamented author ; whethe with the materials collected for finishing it, and the intention c doing so under another editor, is not known to the writei The complete edition, in four octavo volumes, by Turne Macan, is mentioned in Note 2, above ; and some Persia: students of the J"/5«/^-iVJ]!;«n/i maybe glad to be informed tha the writer of this note has now lying before him the first numbe of a new edition of the entire work by Professor J. A. Vuller, t be published, at Ss. 4d. the number. Lug. Bat. sumptibus R /. Brill, iS-jb. [Professor Vuller's edition of the Shah-Nama is still (1882) in course of publication, and probably far fror being completed, only a number or two besides the first volum having appeared.] 4 Compare Ovid : Jamque opus, exegi, .Src. ; and Horace : Exegi monumentum cere perennius, &c. Is there not rather something fine in this proud consciousness c genius, relying on its own internal strengtii, not on the weak an mutable opinion of others, in these confident anticipations c immortal fame, the richest reward of the poet ? Who, that ha read the pathetic complaint of Camoens, at the end of the St Canto of the Lusiad, does not rejoice to know that, amids poverty and neglect, he was yet cheered with the hope tha justice would one day be done to his injured merit ? NOTES. lor 5 As it may throw light on this and some other passages, it may, perhaps, not be unimportant briefly to notice that a great and essential difference lies between our writers and those of the East, in the use of comparisons and similitudes. We require the thing compared to agree with the object of comparison in the major part, or, at least, in a considerable number of its points ; whereas the Eastern poet seeks only for a single point of resemblance. For example : no comparison occurs more fre- quently in Persian poetry than that between a beautiful woman and the moon — a comparison which, with our ideas, is apt to excite some ludicrous associations. Yet it is certain that no such associations enter into the mind of the Persian poet, who simply means to ascribe to the countenance of his mistress the mild radiance and softened lustre so beautifully assigned to that planet by Pope, in these exquisite verses : So when the sun's broad beam has tired the sight, All mild ascends the moon's more sober light ; Serene in virgin modesty she shines. And unobserved the glaring orb declines. In this, and in all similar cases, it would be a good rule for the translator from the Persian to introduce now and then a word which should mark the point of resemblance : " an eye radiant as the moon " ; "a hero strong as an elephant, and valiant as a lion.'' It may just be observed, in passing, that this Oriental use of figures illustrates the application of many parables in the sacred writings ; those, for instance, of the " Unjust Steward " and " The Importunate Widow." — Those who wish for more information on this subject will meet with some curious observa- tions in Professor Lumsden's Persian Grammar, vol. 2, p. 494. 6 Thus also, in Pope's Epistle from Eloisa to Abelard : Should at my feet the world's great'master fall, Himself, his throne, his world, I'd scorn them all ; Not CEEsar's empress would I deign to prove — No ! make me mistress to the man I love. FERDUSI. 7 Those who are interested in such inquiries will meet wil a curious dissertation on the high respect paid to certain tre: in the East, to which allusion may here be made in the append to the first volume of Sir William Ouseley's Travels iti Persi pages 359-401. 8 According to the Eastern legend, Darab, the predecess( and father of Dara (the Darius of the Greeks) married Nahid, daughter of Failakas (Philip of Macedon) and was the father < Alexander. Nahid was on a visit at the court of her fathei when Iskandar (or Alexander) was born. Philip was overjoye at the event, and, having no son of his own, determined to kee it secret, and made Iskandar his heir. Darab afterwards niarrie a second wife, and was the father of Dara. Dara and Iskandi were therefore, according to the story, half-brothers. 9 By the " lofty sphere " is meant Fate, Destiny, or moi correctly, the Divine Providence. Regarding the use of th; term by Mohammedan writers, see " Ottoman Poems," tram lated by Mr. E. J. W. Gibb (London : Trubner & Co.), Not 114, where Mr. J. W. Redhouse is quoted in refutation of th notion prevalent among Europeans that Islam and Fatalisi are synonymous. 10 This account of the Game of Chess, written by Ferdu; more than eight hundred years ago, is curious, as showing th antiquity of the game, its resemblance to it as now played, an the tradition that it was invented in India, and came original! from that country. NIZ AMI. Especially desirable is a book on the Lives of tl Asiatic Poets, a work which, in my opinion, woul be not only very useful, but, on account of its nove/t) extremely pleasant. And it would be a laudabi undertaking to recall so many excellent men, endowe 7mth wonderful genius, to fresh light, and, as it wen to a neiv life. — Translated from Sir \\'. Jones' Poeseo Asiaticfe Comment: (Part V., ch. ig). PRELIMINARY NOTICE. ' I ■"HIS little work is a contribution to the history of Persinn ■*- literature, translated from the German of Dr. Wilhelm Bacher, which was published, at Leipzig, in 1871. It consists properly of two distinct essays, but closely connected in the subject and author of which they treat. The first essay is a Memoir of the Life and Writings of NiZAMi, a Persian poet, who flourished in the twelfth century, and who acquired and has preserved a rank of the very first order in the literature of his country. His life and character, and the nature and merits of his several productions, are so fully detailed in the memoir that it is quite unnecessary to say more about them here. The second essay is a very complete analysis of one of his most im- portant poems, which, so far as the Translator is aware, has received very little of the attention from Western writers on Oriental subjects which its excellence and the interest of its matter deserve ; and which would appear, from circumstances which may be seen in the Life, to have maintained, even in the East, less notoriety than the celebrity of the author and the popularity of his other productions might be supposed to have secured. In many of the MSS. this piece seems to be wanting. An edition of it has been printed at Calcutta, in parts, under the title of Sikandar-namah-i-Bahari, or the Book of Alexander the Navigator, of which Dr. Bacher does not appear to have pos- sessed the whole. A single word about the translation is all that is necessary. It has been made as faithfully as the Translator was able. io6 NIZAMI. according to his knowledge, from the German original, except in the case of the numerous extracts from Nizami's poems. These Dr. Bacher has rendered in poetry also, and though quite correct as to the meaning of the passages cited, he has been obliged, apparently on this account, to deviate occasionally a little more from the original than to the Translator seemed desirable ; especially as in translating from a poetical version quite literally, he would have been in danger of departing yet a little more from the Persian text : and he thinks that in the ren- dering of an Oriental work the reader should be put in possession, as nearly as possible, not only of the thouglits and images, but of the form and language of the author. He has therefore carefully compared all the extracts with the original Persian to the best of his knowledge of it, which he frankly con- fesses is far from perfect ; and, with Dr. Bacher's version to assist him, has made his own version as literal as the differences of the Persian and English idioms, and his wish to give it, as far as was consistent with that first object, a poetical and rhythmi- cal expression, would permit. — It may be well to say also, that he has not thought it necessary for his particular purpose to translate Dr. Bacher's notes and proofs. This little work now offered to the English reader has been full of interest for the Translator, and he would fain hope will interest a few others whose tastes and studies lie in the same direction. They will probably be, comparatively speaking, but few. The majority of men are naturally engrossed with their daily avocations and with the events which are passing around them, and when they read, they, as naturally, like to read what bears upon the matters which immediately concern them. But PRELIMINARY NOTICE. 107 there are a few, here and there, who do not like to think of the iong ages which have passed before they were born as a blank, and who find a pleasure in lifting the veil when they are able, and peopling it with human forms and animating it with human thoughts and human affections. And there are some to whom it is an increase of the pleasure, when the individual so recalled to existence is one who has passed it under circumstances quite different from their own, and whose mind and character have been moulded under other influences, other manners and cus- toms, faiths and institutions. To those few this portraiture of such an individual is addressed, and they will freely acknow- ledge that they are indebted to Dr. Bacher for so bringing Nizami before them. S. R. mimslo-iu, 1873. NIZAM I. PART FIRST : HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. I. — Establishment of the Dates. H E statements which are contained in Oriental sources as to the year of Nizami's death diverge, in their ex- treme limits, more than twenty years, and unhappily European authors have inclined to that side which, according to what fol- lows, is submitted as the incorrect account. Daulet Shah, in his biography, which gives only very scanty and quite insufficient notices with regard to our poet, says, that Nizami died in some month of the year 576 of the Hejra. This date has been adopted by Haji NIZAMT. Khalfa also, in one place ; whilst in other places of his Dictionary he has named quite different dates, viz., twice A.H. 596, once 597, and finally 599. Now the first named date, a.h. 576, is the one which has Been adopted by the most eminent writers. So Von Hammer, in his history of Persian polite literature, and Von Erdman, who yet expressly adds, that Haji Khalfa incorrectly states (perperam) that Nizami died A.H. 597. Fliigel, in his account of Persian literature, names likewise the year 576; in which, nevertheless, the peculiar contradiction has crept in, that evidently the year 1 199 is set down instead of a.d. 1 180. Dorn, in his treatise towards a history of the Shirvan dynasty, uses the same number as an approxi- mative ascertainment of a date with regard to a Prince of Shirwan. Mohl, in his preface to the Shah-Namah^ allows Nizami to live from a.h. 513 to 576. And yet the poet himself has left, here and there, in his works, not only hints but plain statements for the time that he lived, which go far beyond 576, and inattention to which can be explained only by the fact, that they have not hitherto been made the object of a critical examination. That these statements are quite exact is testified by the manner in which they have been delivered to us. According to the custom of Moham- medan authors, Nizami in three of his poems tells us exactly the time of their composition. The first time that he does this is in the Khosru and Shirin. In the dedication of this, our poet's first epic, the opening verses are : HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. When the Sultan, the sovereign of the world, the Favourite of Fortune, May his throne and his crown be resplendent ! The enlightener of the throne of the realms of intelligence. The claimant of dominion in the kingdom of life. The asylum of the empire, the King of kings, Toghrul, The Lord of the universe, the just monarch. Was confirmed in his sovereignly with crown and throne, And sat in the place of Arslan, Then I opened the door of my treasure-house. And laid the foundation of this my building. According to this passage, Khosru and Shirin was produced in the year a.h. 571, when Toghrul, after the death of Arslan, his father, became Sultan. This is fully confirmed by another verse of this same poem. In the last section but one Nizami boasts : Five hundred and seventy-one years have passed away, And no one has impressed such a mole on the downy cheek of beauty. Further we read in the Laila and Mejnun, at the conclusion of the chapter on the occasion of the work : Bravo ! on the unveiling of this lovely bride ! Bravo ! for him that exclaims " Well done ! " It was brought to completion under the happiest auspices. In the month of Rajah, and the letters Thee and Fee and Dal : ' The precise date which it brought with it was eighty, and four, and four hundred. Finally, the appearance of the Jle/i Paikar (the Seven Faces or Flanels) is exactly given, and indeed in the concluding section of the work : *Letter5 having a numerical value. NJZAMl. After five and ninety and five hundred years of the Hejra, I composed this wild youthful book, On the fourteenth day of the month of Fasting, When four hours of the day were fully gone. So that it is clear, at all events, that the higher statements of Haji Khalfa are nearest to the truth, and that it remains only to inquire, which of the three dates named we are to choose. Here we are helped again by the poet's own intimations. In the introduc- tion to the Laila and Afejnun it is said once : From this morning enchantment in which I live {i.e. my life], I have already read off the sum of seven sevens. This somewhat obscure distich receives light from another in the same introduction, which the poet addresses to himself: Whether thou hast read off only seven sevens, Or whether thou hast existed for seven thousand. Compute, when the final term is completed, Whether it hath not equally exceeded seven thousand years . When our measure is about to be extinguished, Between short and long what is the difference ? Nizami, then, was at that time nine and forty years old, and with this agrees what he says in the Alex- ander-Book, written three years later : When my date arrived at fifty years, The condition of the Hastener [on the journey of life] was changed from what it was. Now there is, with regard to the age which Nizami had reached, very exact information remaining from the hand of a glossarist, to whom perhaps the collec- HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. 1:3 tion of the whole of his Quintuple, or Five-books, is to be ascribed. At the end of the Alexander-Book are found some verses on the ending of Sheikh Nizami's life, and the length of it : When Nizami had completed this narrative, He lifted up his foot with the purpose of setting out on his journey ; Nor did much time pass after this Before the chronicle of his life was rolled up : Six months were added to sixty and three years, When he beat on the drum the signal of departure. Its exactness makes this statement indisputable; and Nizami, who in a.h. 584 counted forty-nine years, must therefore have died about a.h. 599 [a.d. 1202], with which the highest of the estimates, given by Haji Khalfa as the right ones, agrees. It remains still to settle with regard to the Alexander- Book the time of its composition, which Nizami does not directly give. Now the son of the poet was, at the completion of the Laila and Mejnun, fourteen years old. In the admonition addressed to him in that work he says : Fourteen-years-old joy of mine eyes, Mature enough to desire the knowledge of both worlds ! And at the conclusion of the first part of the Alex- ander-Book he says to his son : Again I have completed another work, Again have exalted the liead of a graceful cypress ; And in maturing its seventeen years' qualities The seventeen years' growth is become such as it is. I 1 14 NIZAMI. This poem, then, according to this statement, was produced three years after the Laila and Mejnun, anc therefore a.h. 587. The date of Nizami's first work the Makhzan-al-asrar, an endeavour will be made tc ascertain further on. For the order in which his works followed one another the poet gives further indications in the Alexander-Book, in the before-mentioned admonition to his son : So now thou hast four weighty books of mine. Each one a distinct memorial from me : Four brothers are they ■ thou art the fifth ; Four pillars are these : the fifth art thou. In the introduction to the same work, these foui books are expressly named : First I brought materials to my Storehouse, And in doing that I showed no weakness ; Then I heaped up the rich and the sweet, And mingled them together in Shirin and Khosru ; Afterwards I raised the veil and opened to view The door of Love in Laila and Mejnun ; Now in the open plain of eloquence I strike the tymbal to the Fortunes of Alexander. That this order of succession found a place in the original arrangement of the " Five AVorks " is shown by the corresponding works of his imitators ; as the " Quintuple " of Emir Khosru of Delhi, and of Mil Ali Shier. In Jami and Hatifi the order is somewhal altered. Haji enumerates the five divisions of the Nizamian Quintuple quite incorrectly. The Khosru HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. 115 and Shirin he puts entirely away, and substitutes for it the two parts of the Alexander- Book ; leaving the chronological order almost entirely out of sight. When Nizami collected his Diwan, or lyrical pieces, we learn from the first verses of the fifth section of the introduction to the Laila and Mejnun : One day I found myself in joyful felicity, And royally triumphant like another Kai-Kobad : The brightness of my new-moon was expanded ; The Diwan of Nizami was completed. Since this day was no other than the one on which he commenced his Zai7a and Mejnun, it may be assumed as certain, that he arranged his Diwan in A.H. 584. II. — The Lineage of Nizami — His Makhzan-al- ASRAR, OR "Storehouse of Mysteries." "]V[ IZAMI, or Abu Mohammed Nizam-ad-Din, was ■'•^ born A.H. 535 [a.d. i 140-41], at Ganjah, in the land of Arran. His father left him very early an orphan, and when he was well-advanced in manhood we hear the lament of the son still full of sorrow : Early, like my grandfather, so departed my father, Joseph, son of Zaki Muyid. Why should I contend with the dominion of Fate ? It is Fate — wherefore utter a complaint of Fate ? Ii6 NIZAM I. Whose father remaineth and dieth not ? I was born That I should swallow the blood of my father ! When I beheld him go away to his fathers, I tore his image from my bleeding heart ; Whatever might happen of bitter or sweet, I submitted, Forgetful of myself, to the divine decree. To his mother, who v^as of Kurdish descent, the poet dedicates some verses in the same place, in which he records his deep fihal affection and his yearnings : My mother, of distinguished Kurdish lineage. My mother, in like manner, died before me. To whom can I make my sorrowing supplication To bring her before me to answer my lament ? She devoured griefs beyond all measure, She perished in a whirlpool beyond all depth ! My cup of sorrow is far too full. That I should be able to swallow it in a thousand draughts ! For this unbounded woe and suffering What remedy is there save Forgetfulness ? These verses are the only memorials which Nizami has left of his relations with his parents, but they suffice to set his piety in a clear light. We. likewise perceive the deep impression which the early death of his father made upon him, and which contributed no less to form that seriousness which accompanied him through his whole life, and to his inchnation for a solitary existence, renouncing earthly delights. Of his remaining relatives, of two only do traces remain. Of an uncle he thinks exactly as of his parents ; perhaps he had stepped into a father's place towards the orphan. He says : HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. 117 When my master, whom I called Uncle, Ceased to be, and to be my wing. The bitter morsel of grief which filled my mouth Well nigh stifled the reed of my throat ; And I had reason to fear lest the groans I uttered Would suffocate my voice like a blue steel chain. Then there is a brother, of whom we learn through Daulet Shah that he was called Kawami Matarrizi, and belonged to the " Masters of Poetry," and ■especially that he composed a Kasidah, or Idyl, in which was exhibited all the fulness of the poetic art. In another place Daulet Shah represents him, imme- diately after Nizami, as belonging to the poets who were contemporaneous with Ildighiz and his sons. He states also that Nizami, like his brother, was named Matarrizi. How Nizami's youthful years were passed, we do not know; at all events he appropriated to himself rich acquisitions of knowledge, of which his very first work affords the proofs. The Sheikh Akhi Farrah Rihani is named by Daulet Shah as his teacher. Of the religious instruction which he received in his paternal city we are able to produce more than mere conjectures. Kasvini, the author of the Cosmo- graphy, who flourished not long after him, gives the following sketch of it : " Ganjah is a strong old city in Arran, one of the frontier districts of Islam, since it lies near Kurg, or Georgia. The city is rich in wealth and the abundance of its productions. Its inhabitants are adherents of the Sunna and traditional Ii8 NIZAM/. teaching — people of piety and followers of the religious prescriptions, who suffer no one to dwell in their city, who is not of their doctrine and of their faith, in order that it may not be destroyed amongst them. Their principal occupation consists in the handling of arms and the use of warlike instruments, because they live on the borders and in the vicinity of the unbelievers.'' This information is indirectly con- firmed by the somewhat ancient Yakat, that from Ganjah "very learned men have come out," of whom he also mentions some by name. From this it is clearly seen how piety became a distinguishing feature in the character and writings of the poet, who on account of his natural gentleness lost its bitterness and intolerance, but in his intimate feeling always inclined to Sufiism. The first step which he made from the dry asceticism which he had adopted to a milder view of the world, he has painted for us him- self in the introduction to his firstling work. From this it appears, that it was especially the want of vitality in the society into which his pious exercises had brought him, which, even the last, revolted him. Those two or three friends thou hast are foul ones ; Drier are they than a door-knocker. So calls to him his warning angel. But what weighed upon him still more was the inactivity to which this soul-deadening asceticism condemned him. This left no room for the free expression of his inner heart's-glow ; allowed no movement to the impulses HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. 119 of the spirit of poetry with which he was gifted. Every enjoyment of the outward world was forbidden to him by his companions — " those robbers of feeling." Then came over him in one of those wonderful still Oriental nights an illumination. Whilst others are sleeping he sits voiceless, pained by his inner tor- ments, and gropes through his past life. With the insight that it ought not to go on so, comes also the recognition of the path into which he ought to strike. We hear how, in this decisive moment of his life, he suffers himself to be warned and instructed : The spirit of solitude uttered a voice : Give such a pledge as thou wilt be able to redeem. Why cast water on this pure flame ? Why let the wind over-master thine earth? The fever-bringing dust give to the tomb ; To thy ruby give the glowing fire ! Shoot not the arrow when the butt is thine own reason ! Use the whip less when the courser is thine own ! Henceforth thou must not sit careless any more, If thine heart be stubborn batter down the door. Under the dome of this fair blue canopy Sing the story of thine heart like a sweet melody. Keep far away from those highwaymen, the passions ; Thine heart knoweth the way — consult thine own heart ! The nature which submitteth itself to the guideship of reason Will wait for the ready money of forty years ; Rather, till it be matured by forty years, let it be strenuous In gathering what is needful for its further journey. Now thou needest a friend, indulge delusion no longer. Repeat no longer thy forty-years- old lecture, Withdraw thine arm from thy garment and seek assistance, For thine heart's sorrow, seek one who hath known what sorrow is ! NIZAMI. Feed not on grief whilst there is one who hath grieved ; Break the neck of grief by sharing it with a friend. For the soul that is the captive of trouble The Friend of friends is a powerful support. Though kingly state is not to be despised, When I look about I see nothing better than a friend : Nothing that deserves to be chosen in preference to a friend, A famihar friend who will uphold thee by the hand ; Bind him fast by the cords of the heart. And temper thine own clay by mingling it with his water. And now the hitherto repressed voice of his naturally cheerful and still youthful disposition broke forth with fresh strength. The one-sided direction given to it was broken, and no longer was a gloomy inactivity to rob him of the wise enjoyment of the world of sense. He surrendered himself in trust to the vivid emotions of his own warm heart, as he says himself : The heart to which the Supreme Lord hath preached Becometh a union of body and soul ; The universe is illumined by the star of the heart, The twins of the heart are form and spirit. With the shackles which had bound his inward freedom fell also the fetters which had hitherto restrained his poetical talent ; The riches of my heart made my tongue rich also. My nature was filled with gladness and emptied of its sorrows ; My cold tears now flowed from a hot fountain, For the fire of my heart made my pot boil over. Yet the separation from those who had been his companions hitherto was not altogether easy : HIS LIFE AND WKITINGS. My fellow-travellers are inexperienced and I am new to travelling ; Bitterer is separation from friends even than loneliness. The next fruit of this transformation in Nizami was a collection of didactic poetry, under the title of the " Storehouse of Mysteries." The contents of this work are given by Von Hammer. It is the produc- tion of a poetical nature, which is not yet arrived at a full consciousness of its special vocation. What Nizami had hitherto carried about within himself he wished now to express in words : the views and experiences which hitherto had pressed upon himself were now to be communicated to the world, and at the same time the burthen which had weighed him down fell from his heart. But his inclination towards the Epic, which at a later period stepped quite into the foreground, showed itself even here, and so narratives form, as in Sadi's Bostan, the accompani- ment of the meditations, which, by-the-bye, what Von Hammer does not mark, are filled with a genuine Sufi spirit. That facility in rhyming, of which at a later period Nizami boasts, he has not yet acquired in this his firstling ; he says : Long must I rest my head upon my knee, Before the end of this thread cometh to my fingers. Of the dignity of his art he was then very conscious, and he gives an animated expression of his intuitive perception of its worth and seriousness : The mystic word which is veiled in poetry Is the shadow of that which is veiled in prophecy. 122 NIZAMI. Before and behind aie the ranks of grandeur, Prophecy stands first and in front, poetry behind it ; These two neighbours are intimates of one friend : That is the kernel, this is the rind. But the poet must know how to preserve his .dignity; must not by flattery treat his art as a cheap ware : Dead as the gold itself is he who, regardless of aught but money, Giveth away for gold the minted medal ! Whoever bartereth for gold words bright as the day Receiveth a stone and hath given away a night-illuming ruby. Doubtlessly, that tribe which thinketh itself so learned Is as much lower as it esteemeth itself exalted ! He whose head seemelh encircled with a sultan's crown May to-morrow feel it a bandage of iron ; And he who like quicksilver has not felt the sorrow of gold Remaineth pure silver, and is free from a prince's iron. This severe reproof, as is shown especially in the first verse, is directed against the countless poets of that time, who, flocking round the thrones of the less and greater princes, resigned themselves and their art as a football to their princely humours. Especially was this the case in Nizami's century, which had produced the greatest eulogistic poet, Anvari. Nizami never knew how to submit to this ; in spite of many an opportunity offered to him to bring his life into connection with princely courts, and to make his principal theme the laudation of princes, as did most of the contemporaneous poets. This lofty compre- hension of his art worked enduringly on the destiny of our poet ; built up a partition wall between him and HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. 123 his fellow-artists ; and was the cause of his dis-union with them. Yet it was in the spirit of the times that the poets should dedicate their works to princes, if only for the purpose of obtaining for them an earlier diffusion ; whilst, on the other hand, the princes deemed it an honour to be sung by poets. When Nizami wrote his Makhzan-al-asrdr, he had not yet come into connec- tion with any potentate ; Shirvan appears to have been as yet not quite independent, and so he turned his looks towards the southern neighbour-lands, where the powerful Atabeg, Ildighiz, laid the foundation of the dynasty of the Atabegs of Aderbaigan. In the section of the introduction which contains the eulogy of the prince, and in that in which he lays his work at his feet, merely the name of Fakhi-ad-din indeed is mentioned ; but it is apparent from the tenor of it, that the brave Atabeg is meant, especially from the following verses : Guardian Monarch, and Refuge of princes, Lord of the scimitar, and Lord of the diadem, Although, wielding the rigorous sabre, Thou comest taking crowns and conquering thrones ; Like the Khalifs, thou scatterest thy treasures also, Bestowest diadems, and seatest on thrones. The edge of thy sword is above crowns, How from Kings shouldst thou not receive tribute ? In this azure revolving sphere The quaUties of a man are the measures of his dignity ! Here without a doubt is an allusion to the circum- stance that Ildighiz gave to his stepson, Arslan, the 124 NIZAM/. sultanship of Irak, and protected it by his bravery. But a nearer approach is shown in the following pas- sage. At the time when Nizami wrote the dedication of his poem, Ganjah was surrounded with war-alarms, on account of which he excuses himself from not appearing in person before him : For one or two months have I been preparing Speedily to kiss the ground before the King ; But the wild cats which infest the boundaries of this region Have barred every road by which I could come out. To obtain access and appear in thy presence, Willing should I have been to part with my skin ; But when I looked forth, in every path was a lion. Before and behind it was girded with sabres. Yet in this sabre-encompassed land, I will still in a loud voice address to thee my praise ; I have poured forth the stream of poetry at thy door, And nothing have I left now, save a bed of sand. In another passage he recounts to the Atabeg, how, through his love for him, he had refused the offers of two princes : Two letters came to me from two renowned places, Each of them sealed by a princely hero : One poured out gold from an ancient mine. The other brought up pearls from a fresh ocean ; One raised its standard from a distant country, The other was minted with the characters of Rum But although the words on those coins were of genuine gold. My own gold and minting are more precious still ; Although my chattels and pack are smaller, Better than that is mine own merchandise. Now, of that period, distracted with wars of the HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. 125 Iranian potentates, history records merely one case, in which a campaign of more than usual importance was undertaken in the northern regions ; and this indeed was made precisely by Ildighiz, who at the head of a large army conducted a war, in the end crowned with victory, against George, the king of Georgia, and this certainly in Aderbaigan and Armenia. The province Arran lay exactly between both lands, and was presumably exposed to the traversing of troops, and Nizami's countrymen may well have shared in the expedition against the un- believers. So on the one side the attention of the poet must have been directed towards Ildighiz, and on the other side it must have been impossible for him to leave his native city. Perhaps the two princes whose offers Nizami declined were the rulers of Khelat and Meragha, who took part in this cam- paign. So the time in which our poet's first work was published would be ascertained with tolerable certainty, since that expedition took place in the years A. H. 561-562 [a.d. 1165-1166]. In whatever exaggeration Nizami may have in- dulged- in his eulogy of Ildighiz, his proud self- consciousness never deserts him, especially his over- flowing and unbounded reverence for poetry ; so he says : Though there be many standing round the throne, Who bow their heads as suppliants for favour, Superior to Nizami in point of ranlj. He is one — what are the others ? 126 NIZAM/. I who am arrived at the halting-place with them Will push on my journey a little ahead of them : I have made of my words a sword of adamant, And will bring low the heads of those who follow me. III. — The Khosru and Shirin — Kizil-Arslan. T^HE powerful Atabeg, once a patron of poetry, appears to have paid no attention to the homage of the poet, who thus held himself aloof from the court. The principal object which Nizami had in his eye — a princely bounty, which might lay a firm foundation for his nevfly-awakened enjoyment of life — was not attained. At least we find him almost ten years later in a condition which leaves us to conclude that that energy which had torn him from his ascetic exercises, and had inspirited him to undertake an important work, had given way to a resignation of the goods of this world, and to a life of quiet con- templation. He himself presents his circumstances thus : So I live in my nook, turning my face from the world, My nourishment a handful of bruised roasted barley. Like a serpent seated at the head of a treasure : Each day, from night to night, shut-up at work, Like a bee, which, labouring in its narrow cell, Produceth a copious granary of sweetmeats. But that this moderation did not altogether console HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. 127 him for the abnegations to which it subjected him, is shown by the way in which he wished to make use of the new and larger work, with which, after a somewhat long pause, his muse presented the world, namely, to obtain from the son of Ildighiz, who had died in the interval, the reward which had not been granted him by the father. But it is necessary first to speak of a work, in which Nizami entered on a domain of poetry, of which, if he was not the creator, he became hence- forth the authoritative lawgiver to his nation — his romantic epic, Khosru and Shirin. For that Wes and Rumin must have been Nizami's firstling, and be denied to be the production of his older con- temporary and namesake Nizami Aradi of Samarkand, as Daulet Shah and after him Von Hammer assume as almost certain, is not only on chronological grounds impossible, but it is sufficient to set against it the fact, that Nizami makes no mention of this work, and that, as before shown, his first considerable poem, was the Makhzan-al-asrdr, and this statement sounds the more probable, as the certainly more competent Kasvini thus mentions the poem in connection with Nizami : " After Fakhri Gorgani," he says, " had composed the Wes and Rtlmtn, and certainly with the utmost beauty, so that the verse glides along like water, as though he had produced it without effort, then would Nizami in like manner write his romance of Khosru and Shirin." Nizami himself certainly says nothing about this ; but it was at all events, as 128 NIZAMI. we shall see, a noble ambition which moved him next to the epic in poetry, and the poem of the old Gorgani may have floated before him as his model. It is here quite in place to reject a position, which Von Hammer insists upon with great determination ; that " Nizami had nothing else in view but to handle on the most eligible material the romantic epic poetry in order." For before Nizami floated no determinate poetic goal, as before his great predecessor Ferdusi. Poetry, as has been shown, as such he regarded as a sacred thing; the material, was always to him a secondary matter. In two of his master-pieces he needed first an impulse from without, and to one of them, the Laila and iMejnnn, he went altogether with reluctance. To this want of a predetermined object is to be ascribed, that Nizami suffered such long pauses to intervene between his greater productions. His nature, inclined to contemplation and preferring loneliness, and which rendered him unsuited to a residence in the bustling courts of princes, made him also to a certain degree indolent ; and permitted him only from time to time to rouse himself up to activity. But the impulse once given, the fulness of his poetic gift showed itself in the most brilliant light; for then he was inspired with an energy which allowed him to complete the noblest works in a disproportionally short time. W'Ah regard to the Khosru and Shirin, here again Daulet Shah has allowed another error to be laid to his charge, which was copied after him by others : HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. 129 namely, that Nizami composed this poem at the request of the Atabeg, Kizil Arslan. Nizami says nothing of this. He recounts rather, how he received the first impulse to essay a new path in poetry through a heavenly messenger — a Hatif, "the genius of solitude." In other words, it was the result of his own reflections. The resolution to take his matter from the ancient legends of Persia came to him after a sleepless, broken night : I pondered in my heart by what door I should enter ; What kind of treasure I should try to discover; What mode I should adopt of employing my tongue ; What enticement I should use for enticing the world ? Then< the thought glimmers in his mind, that he will tread in the footsteps of Ferdusi. Certainly, he says, Those who have ventured on this style have been more exuberant than I, Have pierced and strung their rubies with the aid of Kings ; They had Fortune at their side to keep guard over their meditations ; Rubies are not be pierced save by diamonds ; Strong cords are necessary to draw down The words of Song from the sphere of the Pleiades. In his withdrawal from the great world, and his needy circumstances, he believes that he is not yet strong enough for the picturing of that brilliant Fore- time. But he represses these thoughts, and enters earnestly on the endeavour to find a worthy subject, which, on the one side, may afford him the oppor- K 130 NIZAMI. tunity of satisfying his love of truth, and not be a vain, deceitful trifling, for, as he says, Although in Poetry, which is as the Water of Life, There be room for everything which lieth in the possibilities. If thou canst not inscribe the right upon thy page, Why should it be necessary to indite falsehood ? And shouldst thou say, Poetry hath lost its value. Everyone who worketh for the right is still powerful : When the cypress in its erectness striketh the sky. Never have I seen it spoiled by the blast of autumn ; and which, on the other side, may correspond with the taste of the time, which in reading seeks entertain- ment only : For me with a treasure like my Makhzan-al-asrdr, Why need I trouble myself about something to amuse? Because in the world of the present day No one looketh in his book for aught beyond amusement ! At last he resolves to rescue from the dust of oblivion a subject taken from the heathenish times of yore, which had dropped into forgetfulness, although the theatre of the occurrences, not far removed from Ganjah, bore eternal witness to them. Above all, the plan for the new work was maturely weighed ; " for a poem," he says, " which does not proceed from thoughtfulness is not worthy of being written or sung." How strenuously he gave himself up to the work, how utterly he detested all ringing on words, is shown by the following utterance : To give to verse measure may be an easy matter, But to stay within measure is the one thing needful ; HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. 131 Knowest thou many words, utter but few, Make not one into a hundred, but a hundred one. In this he knows himself to be in complete opposi- tion to the venal poets of his time : Look at those men who, without counsel or understanding. Would sell their souls for a loaf of bread. Yet, at the conclusion of his labours he will have lived to achieve a great triumph. A friend who had entirely withdrawn himself from the outward world, and was inflamed with a severe religious zeal, had learnt that Nizami — the once so pious — was dedicating his art to the glorifying of the old heathen world. One evening he surprises him whilst busily occupied, and overwhelms him with reproaches : Thou who hast kept the fast-days so strictly. Spend not thy fast over these dead bones ! Cast from thine hand the deceits of idol-worshippers. Pore not over these incantations like the Zendavesta of Zerdusht [Zoroaster]. If thou hast the voice, sing the divine Unity: Wherefore recall to life the customs of the infidels ! To this unlocked for attack Nizami had no other answer than to read to the excited visitor some pas- sages of his poem. Then resentment passed into enthusiasm, and the zealot congratulated his friend, that " by virtue of his magical speech he had under- stood how to enshrine an idol in the Kaaba." At the same time he advised him not to let his light any longer be hid in a corner, but to repair to the court, where he would certainly outshine the .stars hitherto 132 yiZAMI. glimmering there. But the poet's answer sounds utterly repugnant to this advice. He has no confi- dence in his capability of sustaining the bustle of the great world, and pronounces the following judgment on himself : I am but but a glass which thou couldst break with a stone : Of my name or my father's name the world maketh small account. Thou seest in me but brass besmeared with gold ; A corpse besprinkled with rose-water. Heaven at its dawn looked upon me brightly, But what hath it profited me, since I am but a lion of snow? No lion am I to fight with nn enemy ; Enough is it for me to fight with myself ! And the time, too, is over in which he could devote himself to the world ; when a man has passed his thirtieth year — the poet might then be perhaps thirty- seven — it is no longer becoming to cast himself into the whirlpool of folly. Nizami himself composed this episode, and did not without grounds incorporate it with his new poem. His friend was not the only one in the bigoted and intolerant Ganjah who had found a stumbling block in this heathenish stuff. Even Ferdusi had been tainted with an odour of heresy, because he had with- drawn for ever from oblivion the history of Persian heathendom. That narrative therefore was to be placed at its head, to secure as it were an entrance for the book to pious readers. The means by which Nizami understood how to vanquish religious pre- judices were especially those supplements — the hors HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. 133 (fauvres, as Von Hammer calls them— which he wove into his work. These were suggested to him by the subjects themselves. His hero is a king in whose times the founder of Islam appeared; so that the poet can place appropriately at the close three sec- tions : a letter of the Prophet to Khosru Parviz, his disrespectful reception of him, and the Prophet's journey to heaven. Before his own personal con- clusions he places another section of a hundred distichs, in which he sets forth partly his views on the world and destiny, partly describes his pains- taking in the composition of the work, and wards off the attacks of malicious opponents. Finally he warns his readers : See not in me the guide to the temple of the Fire-worshippers ; See only the hidden meaning which cleaveth to the allegory ! So has Kasvini reason when he says : " Nizami brought into it theological matter ; wise proverbs and admonitions as well as allegories and charming narra- tives." Nizami, as already mentioned, used this opportunity in order, through the dedication to a prince, to acquire the means of a quiet comfortable subsistence. He laid his new production at the feet of no less than three princes. In the first place stands certainly Toghrul, who had just ascended a Sultan's throne; but when the effective administration was by him trans- ferred to the Atabeg Mohammed, son of Ildighiz, then Nizami addresses to him the special dedication, and 134 NIZAMI. conveys to him his wishes. He explains to him also why he did not present himself before him in person. He feels himself unequal to the duty ; for Soft roses come not from a thorn such as me, From me can nothing save suppHcation come ; I know not how to perform royal services, Save my morning act of prostration. Ambition in my brain, I fear its snare ; Desires in my heart, I fear their non-fulfilment. I will clothe my desires in the rags of a mendicant ; I will tear ambition from the back of my head ; Then shall Love and I remain in loneliness ; Then shall I be at rest, when I am become a solitary ! He beseeches the Sultan : — Say to the Atabeg, Conqueror of the world, Nizami is suffering every kind of privation ! How long shall such a speaker be hid in a corner ? How long shall such a poet be in want of sustenance ? Is not the time come that we should try to comfort him ? That we should restore to the fallen his former condition ? Finally, he does not forget to ask the brother and co-regent of the subsequent successor of Mohammed, Muzaffar-ad-din Kizil Arslan, to be his mediator with his elder brother, over whom he had a great influence, as is illustrated by a similitude. Also it is plain from this, how entirely unsubstantial is Daulet Shah's statement, that Nizami composed his K/iosru and Shirin at Kizil Arslan's request. How this notion might originate is explained by the con- cluding section, which the poet after many years added to the book. In that he recounts what extra- HIS LIFE AND WRiriNGS. 135 ordinary results had crowned his new work ; how he had been overloaded, not only with felicitations, but with presents ; how the book had sold and had been lauded to the skies. But precisely from the princes to whom he dedicated it he received nothing. The riches which his work brought him soon vanished, and Nizami was again plunged into anxieties, when there came suddenly a message with an autograph letter from Kizil Arslan to call him to his court. This prince meanwhile had become the successor of his brother, who died a.h. 582, in the dignity of Atabeg and the sovereignty of Aderbaigan ; and now called to remembrance the poet who had celebrated him years before. Joyfully Nizami follows the invitation and appears at court, where at that moment Kizil \Yas holding a festive assembly, after a distribution of honours and presents : When they gave him the news, " Nizami is arrived," The gladness of the banquet rose to a triumph. Majesty looked with respect on my genuine devotion, Not merely on the woolly cap of the devotee ; And ordered the wine to be removed from their midst, And stop put to the tongue of the pipe. The reception was extremely gracious. The prince embraced the poet, bade him take a seat, and entered into the most familiar conversation with him, in which Nizami failed not to display his full eloquence : At one time I drew down the tears as from a cloud, At another I made their cheerfulness smile like a rose. At length the conversation turned on the Khosru 136 KFZAMl. and Shirtn, and Kizil Arslan could not find words enough to praise this master-work : The rose exhaleth not a fresher perfume, Nor doth the nightingale warble a newer melody ; To open it — to read it — distich by distich, Is like bathing a fresh wound with oil of olives. At length he inquires, whether Nizami had received a suitable reward for his labours ; whether his late brother had acquitted himself of the obligation which lay upon them both. Nizami answers worthily : I set not that ruby in a jewelled crown, That I. might first be paid its value : he had only availed himself of the opportunity of presenting with the poem his homage at his feet. He then gave him with a delicate turn to understand that the late Atabeg had given him nothing, but that his brother and successor might share in this duty with the prince. Kizil Arslan took the hint graciously, and gave him two villages : When I had performed the customary act of praise and fidelity,. He gave me for my own the villages of Hemd and Nizan, He gave me a royal deed duly secured, And .luthenticated by the King's own seal and subscription : " This village is given by us in perpetuity To Nizami and his sons to all generations." Richly gifted with robes of honour, Nizami soon withdrew from the court, in order to retire again into his quiet life. The present received was not even very munificent, and Nizami was compelled to listen to the jeers of an envious rival, who made himself merry HIS LIFE AND IVKITINGS. 137 over an acquisition, the circumference of which hardly reached " half a parasang, and the income of which did not amount to a full purse.'' But the poet re- pelled with dignity such allusions : See ! compared with my fame, what are Hemd and Nizan ? For this my fame is worth twenty times that ! If thou seest in that village seeding and liarvest, In my verse thou wilt find a hundred Paradises ; If that producetli from each grain the full ear, From mine I will hring grains of pearls, cluster on cluster ; If that yieldeth nothing but feeble reeds, Mine groweth forests of pitcliy aloes ; If that draweth water from the fulness of the Euphrates, Mine in the redundance of its eloquence is the Water of Life. He ever preserved a grateful remembrance of the giver, and thus sings his tragic fate : When the King struck the kettle-drum against the Sultan, And rebellion swept over the land like dust, And the general summons [arru'ie-l/aii] roused the heights and the depths. Who would have believed that the King was in a haunt of murderers ? In that splendid career was a moment of quiet. But, like the lightning, to be born and to die was one ! Thou leftest untasted the morsel of sovereignty and youth, As He of the Two Horns [Alexander the Great] the Water of Life ; Thou foundest martyrdom from the wound of an assassin : May that other world be to thee better than was this ! Daulet Shah has exhibited Nizami's contact with Kizil Arslan in quite a different form. According to him, he first refuses compliance, that he may avoid 138 NIZAM I. all intercourse with the great of the earth. To prove him, the prince goes himself to seek him. The Sheikh learns his intention beforehand by a divine inspiration, and procures for the exalted visitant a look into the super-terrestrial world, in which he beholds Nizami surrounded with such a halo of glory, that he humbles himself, and asks the at first lightly estimated poet to forgive him. He even moves Nizami, in spite of his dislike of the outward world, to offer from time to time a visit to the Atabeg. This legend is taken apparently from the popular voice, by which Nizami, even in his life-time, was named, " the mirror of the world to come." At all events it proves the high estimation in which he stood as well through his poetical genius, as from his avoidance of courts and his genuine piety. IV. — The "Laila and Mejnun" — The Prince of Shirvan — Nizami as Husband and F.\ther. •T^HE happy turn in the outward circumstances of our poet appears to have had a very beneficial operation on his spirit also. Some two years after his reception by the Atabeg we find him in the most joyful tone of mind over the completion of his Diwan, or Book of Odes. Probably this contained N/S LIFE AND WRITINGS. 139 the productions especially of that long space of time which had intervened since the publication of the Khosru and Shu in, as well as the earlier lyric poems of Nizami. It seems to have disappeared and been lost ; for Von Hammer cites only one Ghazel after Daulet Shah, whilst the latter tells us that it had contained twenty thousand distichs — simple odes, ring-strophes, and artistic poems. Nizami himself, in an outburst against one of the mimics and disparagers of his stuff, speaks of Ghazels and Kasidahs [Idyls] : If I show ray art in a tuneful Ghazel, He putteth forth a vile counterfeit ; If I compose an elegant Kasidah, He Cometh out witli his rows of wealc couplets. That the eulogistic poems were not many, Kasvini testifies, when he says : " Nizami composed a beauti- ful Diwan, the poems of which are for the most part of a theological, admonitory, or ethical character, and which contains indications of the initiated and their symbols." The completion of the Diwan poured new enjoy- ■ment of life into the heart of the poet, now well-nigh fifty, and he resolved no longer to fly from the out- ward world and its doings. He says expressly on this occasion : It came into my heart, that this was the time for work, That Fate was my partner, and Fortune was my friend. How long, I exclaimed, shall I choose vacuity of mind ? How long sit withdrawn from the business of the world ? Heaven which hath given me the fulness of satisfaction, 140 NIZAMI. Hath emptied my breast of emptiness of soul ; Now I can attune my voice to the harmony of the world, For to him belongeth the world, who adapteth himself to the world. In this happy frame of mind he received a message, which gave him forthwith the opportunity of setting to work the new energy of his spirit. The prince of the neighbouring Shirvan, Akhsitan, also named Manuchahar, with the surname of Jelal-ud-din Abul- Muzaffer, wishes him to elaborate the love-story of the celebrated pair Laila and Mejnun. This prince, with whom begins a new dynasty for Shirvan, had assembled around him a complete poetical city, to which he gave a king as supreme head. From his origin, which reached back to the old kingly dynasties of Persia, he regarded himself as the representative of the Persian nationahty, and of the Persian spirit, and wished at least to animate his not very wide spread dominion by making it the protector of Persian literature. The charge of the prince to Nizami had probably no other ground than to draw also to his court from his quiet seclusion the poet who was al- ready so renowned that he was able to say of himself : I have brought to such refinement my enchanting poesy, That my name is — " The mirror of the world to come ; " and so to complete his poetical circle. The task enjoined upon him by no means at first corresponded with Nizami's inclination. The subject proposed was indeed a worthy one ; the exalted task- master thus expresses himself about it : mS LIFE AND WRITIXGS. 141 I-ove-lales there are more than a thousand, Which have been embellished by the tip of the' pen ; But this is the King of all love-stories : See what thou canst make of it by the cunning of thine art ! But the subject appears to Nizami too dry to be manufactured into a great poem. The desolate Arabian wilderness for his theatre, two simple children of the desert as his heroes, nothing but an unhappy passion — this might well daunt the poet of Khosru and Shirin, which, in everything, place, persons, and treatment, presented the greatest variety and grandeur. He says : The entrance-court of the story is too contracted ; It would lame the poetry to be ever going backwards and forward ! The race-ground of poetry ought to be spacious, If it is to show off the ability of the rider. Although tlie verse of the Koran may deserve to be well known, The commentary upon it may be far from delightful. Thefascinationsof poetry are its cheerfulness and blandishments; From these two sources is derived its harmony. On a journey in which I know not the way, How can I know what pleasant spots I shall meet with ? There may be neither gardens, nor royal banquets, Nor music, nor wine, nor aught to wish for ; Only arid sands and rugged mountains. Till poetry at last becometh an aversion. But the persuasion of his son Mohammed, at that time fourteen years old, and regard to the princely sender concurred to overcome the reluctance of the poet, and he took to the labour. Here was evinced how Nizami, once roused, was able to exhibit an extra- 142 NIZAMl. ordinary activity. Within a short time he completed this master-work of love-poetry, which, according to Von Hammer, "in the comprehensive laying-out of the plan and the connected execution of the several parts, has remained unsurpassed, though even such poets as Hatifi and Jami have at a later period treated the same subject.'' As to the quickness of the com- position, Nizami says : These five thousand couplets and more Were indited in less than four months : Had I not been restrained by other occupation. They might have been written in fourteen nights. With reference to his first epic he had boasted also that This beautiful image, the darling of the soul, Received its completion in a very brief period. In his outward circumstances, Nizami's new work led to no change. The decoying invitation from Shirvan could not move him to expose himself to the disagreeable air of the court. He avails himself rather of the opportunity to address to himself a warning : Refrain from seeking the society of Kings, As from exposing dry cotton to a hot fire ! The light from the fire may be pleasant enough, But he who would be safe must keep at a distance ; The moth which was allured by the flame of the taper Was burnt when it became its companion at the banquet. Kizil Arslan's present had enabled him to Hve a quiet country-life. On this account we find, amongst HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. 143 many personal intimations in the introduction to the Laila and Alejnun, no complaint of want, and even in the dedication appears no request alluding to it. Tranquillised by his quiet life, he says in the same passage : In thy village, on thine own private estate, Think not of eating from the portion of another. Fortune will turn round on that light-minded fellow Who extendeth his foot beyond his garment. The bird which flieth beyond its own sphere Measureth its flight with the measure of death ; The serpent which keepeth not its own path Twisteth itself in its twistings to its own destruction ; If the fox come to blows with the lion. Thou knowest well whose Is the hand that holdeth the sword. But what he declined for himself he was not unwilling to grant to his before-named son, who besought his father to permit him to go to the court of Shirvan, and reside there as the companion of the young prince : Me, a friendless boy, for counsel and protection Intrust to the asylum of that powerful master. Nizami consents to this, and, it would appear, sent the youth as the bearer of the poem ; for in his con- gratulation' to the young prince, to whom he gave beforehand information of his son's request, he says ; No doubt, thou wilt read tlie book of the Khosrus, No doubt, thou wilt study the sayings of the wise ; The treasures, too, hidden within this volume Look upon as the moon in the fulness of her circuit. If thou dost not behold the face of its father. Deign to bestow thy care on him who is its brother. 144 NIZAMI. Even out of this consent it is disclosed, that Ni/.ami would have wished to give another direction to his son's career than he had struck into himself. He gives him practical counsels in the school of life. "Hast thou, too,'' he says to him, "a talent for poetry, do not devote thyself to it ; for that which pleases thee soonest is the most untrue." This judg- ment certainly does not apply to poetry as Nizami understood it, for, according to him, Truth is the very theme of poetry ; but he means to warn his youthful son against that counterfeit poetry which had spread itself through the courts of princes and inspired him with a genuine abhorrence, and to the ensnaring atmosphere of which he was about to be exposed. Then he goes on : Although poetry be of high dignity, Seek thou the knowledge of what is useful. The Prophet hath said : " The science of sciences Is the science of matter and the science of faith.'" In the navel of each is a fragrant odour, In that of the law, and in that of medicine. But let the law instruct thee in the service of God, Let it not lie to thee a teacher of sophistries. If thou become an adept in both, Thou wilt have reached the summit of excellence. And wilt ht held in high ealiniation in the sight of all men. And at the same time he recommends to him before everything assiduous activity and solidity ■ Even in thy childhood thou hadst a name and lineage ; Thy race hath been one highly distinguished for poetry ; HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. 145 The place which, grown up, thou shouldst occupy is tliine ahead y ; In that thou hast nothing to gain by being my son : Be, like a lion, invincible thyself; Show thyself to be the child of Ihine own good qualities. Of the marriage from which sprang this beloved son, Nizami makes mention in only one place. In, the second part of the Alexander-Book we find the narrative of a love which was cruelly broken by the death of the beloved. Overpowered by the resem- blance of this event with his own, the poet, at the conclusion of the narrative, dedicates to his too early lost wife some verses of tender remembrance : Heaven, which to me was once benignant. Had given to me a bride better than that ; Whose business it was in like manner to love and to serve me, And to minister to me in thought and in deed. Sweet rose ! tinged as it were with my own blood, Never had she known other than myself in the world. A fountain of light she was to mine eye ; Every bad eye she warded off from mine. Destiny — that robber !— robbed me of her so soon. That thou mightest say : " Even while she was, she was not ! " For every kindness which came to me through her, I pray God, that His kindness may be shown to her ! From the verses which immediately follow, it appears that Nizami after the death of his first wife entered upon a second marriage, and, when that also was dissolved by death, upon a third : Poetry hath for me one pleasant aspect. That it can give newness to the old story. L 146 NIZAMI. But every time that I undertake some grateful subject, I have had to sacrifice a smiling bride : When I composed my delicate Shirin, My dwelling lost the sweetness of my heart ; When I had closed up my treasure Mejnun, I had to throw away another jewel ; And when I had found another bride, I was obliged to consign her to the keeping of Rizwan \i.e. the porter of Paradise]. I know not, with the wounds left by such losses. How I should tell the tale of Rum and Russia ! But better soothe my life with this story Than nourish the memory of former griefs. This, as it would seem, only son was by the first wife; for he was born between a.h. 570 and 571, whilst she died a.h. 571. In spite of the seclusion from the world to which Nizami condemned himself, he had to encounter many attacks. The poets of the princely courts looked askance at the consistent man, who, although disdaining to mingle with the host of poetical syco- phants, outshone them all in genuine glory. On the other side, again, the precious treasures of poetry which he had laid up were exposed to thievish plagiarists, who not only decked themselves out at the cost of our poet, but also disparaged him. Nizami, through the gentleness of his character, had hitherto been silent ; but now, when he was about to step before the public, he could not forbear, under the circumstances, from dedicating a special section to these unworthy fellow-artists, which throws too strong a light on the condition of the poet, as well as on HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. 147 his character, not to find a place here, at least by an extract. After challenging himself to break at last his long silence, Nizami paints the lofty powers of his poetic eloquence, and then launches out against his assailants in the following terms : These saltless scribblers, these bread-consumers, Who under my shade live upon the world ! To slay the game is the business of the lion ; The business of the fox to glut itself with the carcass : Better that they should feed on me, mouthful and gullet, Than that I myself should feed on others. Especially bitter is he against one who had made it his life's task to persecute him, partly with calum- nies, partly with plagiarisms. With regard to the thieveries which they make upon his poetry, it par- ticularly vexes him that they should be so publicly shown about with impunity. But he calls to mind the inexhaustibleness of his poetical gifts, and says proudly : I hold in my lap the treasures of both worlds ; Why should I regard the thefts of the poor ? I am bound to be upright to such as are depressed, Whether they take what they want, or whether they steal it. Then alluding to the numerical value of his name, he describes his poetry as well guarded and secure from all' inroad. For the rest, he continues, " pious and glorious men," of whom he counts up some from Adam to ATohammed, "have ever been obliged to endure enmities without deserving them." He will never suffer himself to be hurried to return him the wrong which he had done : 148 NlZAMl. So long as I have lived, never in the way of violence Hath the wing of an emmet received injury from me ; Never have I mingled with dregs any one's fresh water, Never sought to disturb the condition of any one. Because I have been endowed with a gentle disposition, I would not speak evil of the faith of a dog. He who gave me the lion's magnanimity towards a dog Hath given me also the lion's courage ; But I know that it is better to conceal one's anger, And that what hath been said had been better left unsaid. He who is experienced in the commerce of the world Knoweth that life is not without jealousy ; And whoever is intimately acquainted with our city, Well knoweth he the quality of my wares ; And if he stretcheth out his hand with an evil intent, I am not his enemy, he but remaineth to me a stranger. Remain silent, O heart, from all vain-talking ; Devour thy vexations with a cheerful countenance. For the rest, these plagiarisms from Nizami's works were continued. The introduction to the Alexander- Book, written three years later, contains again a section which is dedicated almost entirely to the unmasking of that miserable fellow. Amongst other things, Nizami says, with fine satire : See how these writers in bright daylight Sharpen their pens, stolen out of my reed-ground 1 How what I have kept concealed they spread all abroad ! But though carried to Bokhara, it still cometh from Ganjah : Men buy silken wares though they come from a distance ; For silk, though purloined, still retaineth its value. If Nizami in this passage has wished to make clear his place as a poet, so in another, in like manner incorporated in the introduction to his Laila and ms LIFE AND WRITINGS. 149 Mejnun, he has endeavoured to vindicate his position as a man, and to fortify those principles according to which he had hitherto lived. This poem is filled with a deep elegiac spirit, as some already quoted strophes show, and it is moreover especially interesting on account of its peculiar form. It is divided into sixteen short sections of five to ten rhymed couplets, and maintains throughout, by an ever recurring burden at the end of each section, a strophaic arrange- ment. These recurring verses consist of ever fresh variations, summoning the cup-bearer to bring wine, which has the property of causing to forget suffering, of lightening thj heart, of brightening the countenance, as suits the purport of the foregoing strophe. The first strophe contains such a summons, only in greater fulness; which has led Von Hammer to regard the whole as a separate poem " in praise of wine and drinking bouts ! " This is the more unjust, as the pious Nizami makes use only of the favourite expres- sions of the Mohammedan mystic. Moreover he guards himself in the introduction of the Alexander- Book against such a misunderstanding : Think not, O Khizar, thou favoured by Fortune, That when I praise wine I mean the juice of the grape. I mean that wine which raiseth me above self ; That is the wine with which I would furnish my banquet. " My cup-bearer " is to perform my vow to God ; " My morning draught from the tavern " is the wine of self- oblivion ! By Heaven, so long as I have enjoyed existence, Never hath the tip of my lip been stained by wine ! 150 NIZAM I. Here may the ninth of these strophes find a place in which Nizami reproaches himself with his meek- ness : How long wilt thou remain congealed as tlie ice ? How long be dead like a drowned mouse ? Like the prickly rose, abandon thy softness ; Show, like the violet, diversity of colours. There is a place in which the thorn is proper ; Occasions when a little devilry is not out of season. A Kurd once lost his little ass in the Kaaba ; Not seeing it in the court, he raised a loud clamour • " The journey across the desert was a very long one ; What is the mystery of my losing it here ! " Uttering these words he looked behind him, And saw the ass, and seeing it smiled, And exclaimed ; " I lost my ass from my midst. And found it again because I was clamorous." That the whole piece was originally incorporated in the introduction is shown by the last strophe, which concludes with this address to himself: Better is it, O Nizami, that in this journey Thou shouldst pitch thy tent like Khizar beside the Fountain ; Fill thyself full, like the pellucid pearl. With the limpid water of the loves of Mejnun. And so he makes the transition to the immediately following commencement of the particular narrative. The peculiar " burden " which Nizami here employs within the narrow framework of the Elegy he has made use of, enlarged, three years later in the first part of the Akxamkr-Book, sections of which through- out conclude with a summons to the cup-bearer, couched in similarly rhymed couplets. HIS LIFE AND IVRITINGS. 151 V. — The Alexander-Book. nPHE new attraction towards Shirvan had no last- ing influence on Nizami's life. With advancing years he shut himself out still more closely from the outside world. Three years after his completion of Laila and Mejmin he thus paints his solitary existence : The door of my house I close against the world, Like the lofty sky, with bolt and with bar. I know not in what fashion the universe revolveth ; What goeth forward in it of good or of evil. I am like a dead body with the soul of a man ; But not journeying with the caravan, or one of its company. With each breath I suffer a hundred heart-aches ; Every moment till I fall asleep I hear its echoes. No one do I know who in body and soul Holdeth me dear as he doth himself. In the same place he informs us, that he has forty times observed the forty days' fast and seclusion, and a thousand times given himself up to solitude. But poetry remained henceforward his chosen companion, and the lofty consciousness of being one of its elect comforted him for being misunderstood and against rude assaults. His time was divided between con- templation and reading. In the night, in which a happy vision first gave him a fresh impulse to a new production, this was his employment : 1 52 NIZAMI. One while extracting the meaning from the unread tablet ; At another reading the legends of the olden times. His favourite occupation was Ferdusi's Shah- Namah, or Book of Kings, and he had even formed the plan of filling up the gaps in it, and of working out the subjects not therein contained in a volume, which, as a supplement to the great heroic poem, should in a similar manner bear the title of the " Glory Book of Kings," or briefly, the " Glory Book." Nay, as he himself recounts, he had already laboured upon it forty days. He speaks in the following terms of the work which he had in view and then abandoned : The ancient Poet — the master of Tus — Who knew how to adorn his verse like a bride, In that book, which he had composed of threaded pearls. Left many things unsaid which he might well have said. But if all the deeds which were done in old times He had set down in his book, to some it might have seemed too long ; He recorded not therefore what he did not prefer. And said only that which could not be omitted. Besides, with regard to friends, he thought it a meanness To enjoy his dainties quite by himself. Nizanii, who had strung many a gem. And had wielded his reed in numerous victories. Found in his treasure-house many gems still unstrung, And weighed them nicely in his own balance ; Gave them a happy voice in his Book of Glory, And restored its freshness to the almost-lost story. Nizami appears also to have promised himself much from this work ; he says, just before : HIS LIFE AND WHITINGS. 153 In the strength of pens nicely-pointed like these, Filled with royal wine, whose cup is the soul, Its title shall be the Glory-Book of Kings. Meanwhile, mature reflections bade him give up his plan, and whilst he remained still on the domain once entered, of the heroic-saga, to create something new. But it was only at the very last moment that he broke away from his first purpose. From Nizami the world ought to receive no work resting on the production of others. His grounds for the change Nizami puts into the mouth of his heavenly Mentor Khizar, who appears to him, and, amongst other things, says as follows : I heard that in the Book of the Royal Khosrus thou didst desire To find a spring welling forth with fresh waters. Look what the wise men of yore used to say, " Bore not two holes through the same jewel ! " Since thou in thine art canst invent a new model, Do not without reason use the old worn-out stu6f : When thou hast the power of choosing a maiden, Do not descend to marry a widow ! And he then counsels him to take as the subject of his new poem, the history of Alexander : Buy thy jewels from the mine of Alexander ; Alexander himself will become a purchaser of thy jewels : See, when the sovereign of the world becometh thy customer, How quickly thy work will reach the skies ! Nizami follows the call ofhisgenins; an independent work shall be the fruit of his labours. He is resolved also to make Alexander the hero of an epic, which 154 NIZAMI. shall comprehend all that was known about him. To do this the work must have a threefold diversion : setting forth Alexander as Conqueror of the world ; Alexander as Philosopher ; Alexander as a Prophet : From each of three seeds, scattered by the hand of wisdom, I will rear a tree of goodly proportions. The first I will consecrate to the renown of the Monarch, And to his deeds as a Conqueror of kingdoms ; Then I will adorn my verses with Wisdom, And will renew the freshness of the old Chronicles ; Thirdly, I will knock at the door of Prophecy, For God hath called him to be a prophet also : Three entrances I have made,^ach to a rich vein. And on each have bestowed no little anxiety. But he did not hold to this tripartite arrangement, but bound the two last divisions, as nearly related, in one. As the groundwork of the double division, he takes the two journeys which he causes his hero to make through the world, the first as Conqueror, the second as Prophet ; whilst the middle part forms the transition. That he came to this resolution whilst he was still working on the first part is shown by the conclusion : When the King returned to the throne of the Greeks, Carrying in his hand the key of felicity. He gathered together great stores of learning, And opened the portal of divine wisdom ; But when he was called to the office of prophet. He withdrew not his neck from obedience to the command. Again he prepared provisions for his journey. And dismissed from his head the desolation of the world. Twice he paraded the earth as a conqueror : HIS LIFE AND WHITINGS. '55 Once through its cities, its regions, its mountains, and its plains ; And this time he saw and examined minutely The cultivated and uncultivated, and ended with Greece ; A second time he traversed its roads and pathless places. Displaying his standard, and spreading light like sun and moon. The year in which the first part of the Alexander- Book was composed is already sufficiently indicated above. With regard to the name also, we can have no remaining doubt, since in the then cited verses, at the same time that he names the earlier poems, his latest he calls " the Fortunes of Alexander." In the presently to be quoted passage, in which he addresses the prince, he says expressly that the book is called Ikbdl (Fortune), and this address is found at the end of the second part, referring to both. The name is also very suitably chosen, since Nizami wishes to sing the Fortunes of Alexander in every aspect, and the expression — Ikbdl — is found in numerous places of the poem, as marking the good fortune in virtue of which Alexander succeeds in every undertaking. Meanwhile, in spite of this declaration of the poet, there has arisen with respect to the title of the Alexander-Book a great confusion, of which presently below. But previously must be discussed the question, whether the appearance of the second part soon followed that of the first. This question is connected with another : to whom did Nizami dedicate his new work ? As already shown, it was to our poet, in spite of his reluctance, a necessity to unite his poem to the 156 NIZAMI. name of some potentate. He explains to us this necessity when, as here, he says : To indite poetry is then an advantage, When from inditing it cometh lofty fame ; But better fasten the mouth with a nail, Than indite, and burn what hath been indited : Of precious merchandise I may have plenty, But wherefore bring it out when no one wanteth it ? Certainly, when he addressed himself to the work- ing out of his subsequently rejected " Glory-Book," he had forgotten this necessity, for he exclaims : When we string pearls for the sake of another. We may sing a song surely on behalf of ourselves ! But when Khizar suggests to him the plan of the Alexander-Book, he gives him a word of counsel with respect to this also : Wouldst thou have a silver jar or a golden ewer ? Thou must repair to the land of Irak ! From Rai to Dahestan, Kharism, and Hind, Travelling, thou wilt see nothing save desert and sterile ground : Bokhara, Khusistan, Ghil, and Kurdistan, All four eat up their own morsel of bread ; Irak, the delightful, be thy darling. For great is the fame of its redundancy ; And every rose which enrapturetli the soul DistiUeth its balmy drops in Irak. In these somewhat dark verses lies certainly nothing beyond the exhortation to seek in Irak for the prince who is to further extensively the celebrity of his poem, and to bestow upon it the becoming reward. And in fact we find at the close of the second part an HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. 157 address to Izz-ad-din MasOd, who is certainly no other than that Prince of Mossul who waged war with Salah-ad-din, maintained himself in the sover- eignty of Mossul, and bequeathed it to his heir. That this closing dedication is closely connected with the second part is proved by the commencement of it : Since Fate hath taken away those wise men, Thy royal throne, O King, remaineth as their memorial ; which has a reference to the immediately preceding narrative of the death of the " Seven Wise Men.'' But that Nizami sent to this prince the whole of the double-work is clear from the following concluding Since I have no strength in hand or foot To reach the restful heaven of thy throne, I judge it better to exalt my spirit to the clear sky, And escape from the bustling throng of the dark earth. Two gems have I brought up from the depths of my sea, Whose radiant lustre brighleneth my mind : The one reflecteth the purity of Mary, The other emitteth the light of Jesus ; The one in its beauty shineth like the full moon. The other is dazzling with matchless splendour like the sun. In the royal pavilion are two valuable pledges. The one, my Fortunes [my book], the other, the Fortunate [my son] ; Both have I sent to the presence of the King, That the jewel may receive its appropriate setting. The bride who hath lost the affectionate motlier. When she cometh forth from the veil, should be veiled by her brother ; It is fitting, when she approacheth the court of a King, 158 NIZAM/. That such a veiled-one should have such a veil-holder. And since I have consigned my spirit [my poem] to thy keeping, And with my spirit my very heart's-blood [my son], I am hopeful that thou wilt send him back from thy presence, And that his stay may more than fulfil my hopes. Now Izz-ad-din died in the year of the Hejra 589, so that the entire work must have been completed within the interval between a.h. 587 and 589. How comes it then, it will be asked, that in the first part the prince who is addressed is not Izz-ad-din, but Nasrat-ad-din Abubekr, the son of the Atabeg Moham- med ? The statements of Nizami himself lead us to the answer ; by which at the same time many another difficulty is solved. At the beginning of the intro- duction to the second part occurs a section which commences with a mournful reflection upon Time and the changes everywhere produced by it, and then pictures the melancholy condition in which the poet found himself after the death of Kizil Arslan, a.h. 589; how the spirit of poetry had deserted him, and how the graciousness of the prince, which had cheered him into fresh activity, had awakened him out of his sadness and again made him eloquent ; and how he had been able to renew the old work and to enrich it. Amongst other things, he says : The Glory-Book I changed to a new form, The colourless water I turned to azure. Look now at the freshly embroidered poem, How promptly it leapeth forth to seize the plunder ! See what seed I sowed first, and to what it grew at last ! So must we make good whatever hath been broken. HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. 159 The remaining portion of this long section speaks of the poetical endowments of Nizami, and particularly of human life. Even in the section which follows the subject is still the number of persons who had sued for the honour of appropriating the book to themselves, but that Nizami had discovered hitherto only one prince who was worthy of it : Many a one hath sought to obtain this book ; But only with a frontispiece adorned with his name is the book perfect ! Except him, among the monarchs whom I have seen, I have seen no one who hath gained my full confidence. Their courts are full of petitioners, their tables empty ; All is leanness, there is nothing of fatness ; All are money-changers, with the minds of traders. Voracious drudges, looking after their wages ! Here only see I a band threaded with rubies, A mind like the ocean, and words that are pearls ! With a purchaser so generous, how, by Heaven ! Should my words not command a lofty value ? Whom we are to understand by "the unworthy princes" is not apparent; the "lauded one" is no other than the already named Nasrat-ad-din, whose proper name was Bishkin, and who ruled in Ader- baigan, as the successor of Kizil Arslan. For in the dedication of the first part, Nizami says to this prince : When I received this command from the monarch, " On this picture inscribe my name," I said— To the King I will pour forth my words ; To all others I will keep them to myself ; i6o NIZAMI. His is the banqiieting-hall to which I will send the bride, That she may brighten the eye of the giver of the Iranquet. That between the completion of the work and this new dedication a considerable time must have inter- vened is clear from the fact that Nizami in the interval had declined the offers of several princes. A nearer determination of the time is afforded by a second concluding section to the second part, ap- pended to the new redaction of his work ; in which Nizami expressly says : The measure of my days hath reached three score, And yet I have not taken measure of my own condition. It was after a.h. 595 that Nizami, to honour Nasrat-ad-din, made a fresh redaction of his Alex- ander-Book. Now it is precisely this year that at the invitation of that prince he composed his Heft Paikai: Probably the successor of Kizil Arslan had it in view to come into connection with the renowned poet in a similar way to that in which the prince of Shirvan had done it before ; and, as the desired new poem was finished, besought him to immortalise his name by dedicating to him the old Alexander-Book also. To what extent the fresh treatment which this imposed on Nizami went, cannot be known. At all events, came with it in addition various passages in the introductions and conclusions. Moreover, the uncommonly numerous variations in the transcripts must be set down to this account, whilst the new redaction was propagated at the same time with the original one, and even combined with it by the HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. i6i copyists. That this last was the case is evident from this, that the older dedications to the Prince of Mossul are left in. For the rest, there appears to have been added to it then also the important closing section of Khosru and Shirin, which likewise concludes with the praise of Nasrat-ad-din. Towards this prince generally Nizami shows more inclination than to all the earlier ones with whom he had come into connection, and in no one's praise is he so warm. Of especial interest is the manner in which he praises his virtues as regent on occasion of a fear- ful earthquake which had desolated his kingdom. On account of the excellence of the description, especially as that of an earthquake is a rare theme, a portion of the section may find a place here : Through his life still surviveth the dominion of Time ; My witnesses behold in valley and in stream, When that earthquake, which rent even the skies, Overwhelmed and hid from sight the cities of the earth! So gi-eat a trembling fell on mountain and on plain, That the dust rose up to the collar of heaven ; The earth became unstable as the rolling sphere, And was tossed up and down like a juggler's ball. Such a shock aro-se from the clarion of the blast. That it tossed the fishes far from the streams of the valleys ; Vivid lightnings with their flashes divided the heavens, The joints of the earth were broken asunder ; The fissures of the ground were filled with water. By the frequent concussions the mountains were splintered : The faces of young bearded men changed colour. As when the bursting of the Nile-dams fiUeth Egypt with anxiety ; M 1 62 NIZAMI. And the compression of the earth was so severe, That in its pressure the hills were squeezed into atoms ; Not a link in the chain remained undivided, Not a wall retained its cement unbroken. Of the treasures which that day gave to the winds To many a bosom was lost all remembrance ; From all those men and women and old men and children Came forth no voice save a general uproar. But that jewelled chain remained unbroken, And every new chain scattered fresh jewels ; So that by favour of that princely gem Order was re-established throughout the circuit. And within a short time the bounds of this desolated region By tlie munificence of the King became again more flourishing than Rum. Look not on the breaches through which misery and anguish Had made of this kingdom one heap of ruins ; Look upon it when under the throne of that Fortune-favoured prince It had once more recovered its former prosperity ! Since it has been shown that Nizami himself named the second part of his Alexander-Book Ikbdl-Iskandari or briefly Ikbal, something still may here be added with reference to the name, or rather the names, of this double epic. Haji Khalfa, in the enumeration of the constituent portions of Nizami's "Quintuple-book," names in the first place both parts as two separate works. The first part is called properly Ikbdl- Namah; the second he designates by the title Iskandar-Namah, or also Khirad-Namah. To these specifications Haji Khalfa remains faithful through- out : by Iskandar-Namah he understands the second part, as appears by the addition, "it is also named HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. 163 Khirad-Namah, and by the citation of the commenc- ing verse; which, however, is not its own proper beginning, but that of a piece, which, separated from the introductory section in the Breslau MS., is in the Calcutta edition combined with it. Possibly in the MS. which lay before Haji Khalfa this commencement was wanting. In like manner under Ikbdl-Namah the introductory verse is cited of the first part. Of the title Scraf-Namah Haji Khalfa knows nothing ; and properly ; for that has arisen only from an error of the transcribers, who in the section which bears the superscription, " notice on the Seraf-Namah" saw an allusion to the Alex- ander-Book, and named it accordingly. So the Vienna MS. names the whole work Seraf-namah-Iskandari. In the Dresden MS. the second part only is called Seraf-Namah, and with this agrees the Breslau MS. The indeterminate expression which the first presents must not be used for the purpose of declaring the superscription improper. Why the second part bears the title of Khirad- Namah also, Fleischer would explain from its intro- ductory words. Nevertheless it is possible that it has arisen from confounding it with the Alexander-Book of Jami, which, although not commencing with "Khirad," is called the Khirad-namah-Iskandari. That work is expressly an imitation of our second part and derives its name, perhaps, from the "Wis- dom-Books" {Khirad-Nameh) which in that, as in Nizam i, the Wise Men present to Alexander. That i64 NIZAM I. the name " Khirad " for Nizami's poem is related to that of Jami's Sakandar (Alexander) Haji Khalfa also shows, who cites the former immediately after the latter. A principal cause of the confusion of the names appears to be the circumstance, that Nizami's Alexander- Book is perhaps the only work in the Persian literature which has two parts separated from one another, so that Haji Khalfa has considered the latter an independent work. The later imitators took sometimes, to speak as Fleischer, the heroic, some- times the spiritual Alexanderid as their model. When, therefore, it was the great Jami who gave to the elaboration of the last — the spiritual one — his happy talent and his name, the model itself fell into a certain oblivion ; especially since the completeness of Nizami's " Quintuple " was not prejudiced thereby. And hence it comes that so few of the MSS. contain the second part. One other name still should be mentioned, assigned to the last of the Calcutta editions, which the lexi- con Bahari-Ajam recognises, namely, the Iskandar- najiieh-bahri, or the " Maritime Alexanderid." This has undoubtedly arisen from the fact, that Alexander in his second journey through the world, pictured in the second part, meets with adventures on the ocean ; which is not the case in the first part. Finally, it may be remarked, that the " burden " employed by Nizami is so far modified in the second, that he does not summon the cup-bearer to bring wine, but to bring the singer, that he may enliven him with his melodies. HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. 165 At the conclusion of this section may be placed, for chronological reasons, a poem which Nizami composed in the 5 90th year of the Flight, when Mohammed had been dead already 580 years; and, since it is a prayer addressed to the Prophet, sub- joined to the introduction of the Makhzan-al-asrdr. This striking piece shows how deeply the poet was grieved by the shattered condition of the whole Mo- hammedan world, and is equally a faithful expression of the yearning after better times, which certainly lived in the hearts of all well-minded people : O Medina's veil, O screen of Mecca, How long will the sun sit hidden with shadows ? If thou art a moon, bring a ray from thy sun ; If thou art a rose, bring perfume from thy garden ! For thine expectants are breathing their last sigh ; O thou redresser of complaints listen to their complaint ! Hasten to Persia, sit no longer in Arabia ; See, the day-steed is tired, the dim night is approaching ; Array the kingdoms anew, and freshen again the universe! Make the two worlds again full of glad voices ! Mint thine own coin, and let the rulers mint less ; Preach the sermon thyself, and let the Khalif be dumb ! Thy land once breathed an odour of authority. But the wind of hypocrisy came and dispersed the odour ! Oh, clear the cushioned thrones from those who are asleep. Purify the pulpits from those who are polluted ! The houses are dwellings of ghouls ; sweep them away. Cast them down into the keep of annihilation! We are all dead bodies, be thou our soul ; We are all demons, be thou our Solomon ! Thou art our guard ; why is the caravan left all alone ? Thou art our army ; why is thy standard elsewhere ? i66 NIZAMI. On every side they make breaches in the Faith, On every side they lie vifaiting in ambush ! Either send thou Ali into the ranks of the battle-field, Or send us Omar to combat these Satans ! With double and treble barriers protect our breast-works, Destroy altogether these miserable wretches ! Already the days of thy sleep are five hundred and eighty years; The day is far advanced, hasten to the assembly ! Rise thou, and give command to the seraphim To herald the dawn with their countless candles. Give us admission within the veil of thy mysteries. We are all asleep, be thou our watchman ! VI. — The " Heft Paikar," or Seven Portraits — Niz.\mi's Death. TT has been already mentioned that the Prince of Aderbaigan, as once the Prince of Shirvan, encouraged Nizami to fresh poetical activity, but that whilst the latter indicated the subject, Nasrat- ad-din left him a free choice. No proper epic was the work which resulted from this summons, but Nizami combined several narratives together, and gave them a certain unity by putting them into the mouths of seven favourites of the king Bahram- Gur. The history of this King forms the framework, which holds the whole together. With regard to the composition of this work, Nizami expresses himself as follows : HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. 167 I sought in the records of pleasant histories For all that was suited to expand the heart ; From all that was contained in the Chronicle of the Kings, I chose, and combined what seemed good in one book. First I thought out an ingenious plan, And then embodied it in harmonious numbers. Wherever particles remained of the ruby-chipping. Of every atom I contrived to make something ; From those small fragments, like a skilful jeweller, I formed and polished a not worthless tre.isure ; So that the great, who know how to distinguish, Might see what to choose amongst the several portraits. Whatever the chronicles had half-said, I said fully ; Whatever jewel he had half-pierced, I pierced wholly. Whatever I perceived to be right and perfect, That I left undisturbed, as it stood at first; I made every effort in proper setting To enchase each choice and rare fragment. Again, I searched books dispersed through the world, For what had been hidden and was well-nigh forgotten ; Whatever was written in Arabic and Persian, The legends preserved by Tabari and Bokhari, And words scattered through various other volumes. And arranged each pearl in a subtle fashion. As to the application of the number seven, which in this work especially plays a considerable part, Nizami says : The Portraits of this book, like those of the Magians, I have portrayed after seven brides in their bridal ornaments, That the seven brides which adorn the starry vault May look down with favour on my seven brides. And, in like array and as fellow-labourers. May shed down on-each their kindly influence. But he guards himself against the objection of a i68 NIZAMI. want of unity, and intends, as the painter would do, however numerous the figures his picture may contain, to observe the necessary symmetry in the arrange- ment. Nor is he willing to be considered as a mere compiler; the work shall be so handled as to be a special testimony to his spirit. The material worked upon shall be like the rainwater, which the oyster renders back as a splendid pearl. At all events, it must be admitted that the direction which Nizami had always followed — that of elaborating the subjects of the old Sagas — has reached in the Heft Paikar its highest point, whilst Nizami, in his love for it, has given up the inward unity of the new work. That he did this with full deliberation is shown by the following verses, in which he marks also in brief touches his relation to the other poets of his time: Of that crowd which hath preceded me No one hath rendered of fresh fruit more than I have. If I have been wanting in using my file, Yet am I all the fuller of meaning. Shells without kernels I have seen as the rain-drops ; Their answer to me is, " Kernel without shell !" But, for all their precious and new-fangled poems, Not yet will I turn away my face from the old ! The work is naturally dedicated to Nasrat-ad-din, and by it we learn also that he had two sons, who yet do not appear to have outlived the father, who died A.H. 607 ; since on his death his brother Uzbeg succeeded to the throne of Aderbaigan. Nizami died yet eight years before his protector. Age had made itself felt by him, in depriving him of HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS. 169 bodily strength, and very touchingly he describes it in a passage inserted in the introduction to the A/ex- ander-Book, which contains some verses revealing the poet's thoughtful and devout views with regard to immortality : Many, like to me, are sleeping in the grave, And no one remembereth that all must sleep there too ! Call me to mind, O fresh young partridge [his son probably], When thou passest by the head of my tomb, And mayesl see the grass growing out of my clay. My simple pallet all broken down. The dust of my couch blown away by the wind ; Not remembered by one of my 00-evals. Lay then thine hand on that heap of ruins. And recall to thy recollection my pure spirit ; Shed over me a tear in thy far-off dwelling. And I upon thee will shed light out of heaven ; To me shall thou pray for whatever requireth speed, And I will be thy surety that the prayer shall be fulfilled. Thou wilt send me a benediction, I will send one to thee ; Come, and I will come down from the skies unto thee. Think of me as of one alive like thyself ; I will come in the spirit, if thou comest to me. Hold me not as one who hath lost his companion. For I shall look upon thee, if thou seest not me. This confiding view made his death also a gentle one. A gloss in the Alexander-Book describes his departure : After he had sung of the wise men of yore. He went away himself as the wise ones had gone ; And departing on his journey, instructed his companions, One while as to the way, another as to the guide. Then he smiled and said : " The mercy of the All-merciful 170 NIZAMI. Permitteth me a departure full of hope : Oh, keep yourselves afar from unmercifulness, Ye and this house, I and the mansions of joy !" In such words and sayings the eternal sleep seized him ; You would say that never had he been awake. Nizami died, where he had almost entirely passed his life, in his paternal city of Ganjah, where, accord- ing to Daulet Shah, his sepulchre is to be found. Of his son, whom he exhorts in his last poem to live in the fear of God and in virtuous activity, no memorial has been preserved. Perhaps it was he who collected his father's five great poems into a whole, and gave to it the title of Panj Ganj, or Five Treasures, and the Khamsah, or Quintuple. He may also have written the passage just quoted on the death of his father. Nevertheless, it is to be re- marked that Kasvini, who flourished a quarter of a century after Nizami's death, does not yet know the Khamsah as a collection ; but he is quite silent about the Alexander-Book also. Nizami's place in Persian literature and his in- fluence on its later development are in general sufficiently well known. How he himself is de- pendent on Ferdusi has been shown here on his own testimony. A further comparison would also prove the dependence of the next great poet, Sadi, on him. For the domain in which Sadi bore away the palm — didactic poetry — was also familiar to Nizami, the author of the Makhzan-ai-asrdr, the Storehouse of Mysteries. This work was the fore- HIS LIFE AND WAITINGS. 171 runner of similar didactic poetry, as his epic poems ■were the models of the romantic epics of the Persians. His Quintuple was the pattern for many others composed by very eminent poets ; and his single works also afforded material for countless copies. He had also an influence on Turkish poetry, in which one of its most considerable supporters, Mir Ali Shir, did him the honour of taking him as an example. The recognition which Nizami received already during his life-time was in still greater measure bestowed upon him at his death. Kasvini, versed moreover in Persian literature, assigns him a some- what long account in his Cosmography, and names him "a wonderful, skilful, and wise poet.'' Daulet Shah is still more lavish in his laudatory expressions ; and the latest native literary historian, Luft Ali Beg, in his Aieshkadah, names him " one of the four pillars of eloquence and culture." Of more weight are the words with which the three greatest poets in Persian literature who have appeared since his death have honoured his memory. Sadi sings : Gone is Nizatnij our exquisite pearl, which Heaven in its kindness Formed of the purest dew, formed for the gem of the world ! Calmly it shone in its brightness, but, by the world unregarded, Heaven, reassuming its gift, laid it again in its shell. And Hafiz exclaims : This ancient vault containeth nothing beneath it, Comparable for beauty to the words of Nizami. 172 NIZAMI. And the last great poet of Persia dedicates to him, in the darling spiritual child of his High Altar, his yoseph and Zulaikha, the following mournful mem- orial verses : Where is Nizami ? — where his soul-alluring lays ? — The delicate refinements of his subtle genius ? He hath now taken his place behind the veil, And all save himself have remained outside of it. Since he hath withdrawn himself, we have received no portion Save from the mystic words which now he hath taken with him. But no one understandeth those mystic words save him who approacheth God, Into whose sound heart hath entered the divine. But he hath escaped from these narrow by-ways. To journey at large towards the sacred temple ; And, terrified by the captives taken in the snare, Reposeth under the skirts of the Throne itself. He washed his inward soulfrom the image of manifoldness, Because he sought to fill it again with the mystery of unity. PART SECOND: THE "ALEXANDER-BOOK." I. — Retrospect. H E fate which befel the second part of Nizami's Alexander- Book in Europe might well nigh be called tragic. When Von Hammer wrote his work, which was to lay the foundation of his History of Persian Literature, an unfortunate accident would have it, that in his copy of the "Quintuple" that part was entirely wanting, and it appeared to him " made out that Nizami either here [at the end of. the first part] had been in- terrupted, or that, of his own accord, he had no longer any particular desire to re-unite the broken thread." When Erdraann first called attention to the existence of the second part and gave the contents of it. Von Hammer was indeed corrected ; but the statement of the contents is not merely incomplete — some thirty lines for a work of 7,000 couplets — but also erroneous. As a proof of the last assertion one error only need be pointed out here ; others will be 174 NIZAMI. indicated in the course of the relation. Erdmann says : De sententiis — a sapientibus allatis, quibus et Nizami suam adjungit, hac facta conclusione, summum Alexandri creatorem in propheta vener- andum esse. This sounds somewhat strange, but is cleared up when we consider the superscription which the sec- tion relating to it bears in the original. " The Creator — be His name exalted ! — honours Alexander with Prophecy." Now Erdmann apparently had not acquainted himself with the purport of the section, and saw in the word paighamberi not "prophecy," but "prophet," and thus brought out of it this peculiar translation. Otherwise, the table of contents produces the impression that it was chiefly manufactured out of titles of sections. Mean- while it became the measure in the actual judgments of the day of Nizami's poem. Weissman, ignorant of Persian, gives a faithful translation of Erdraann's Latin, and a year later, in 1851, an authority in the domain of Persian literature is satisfied to recognise that of Erdmann, and this table of contents is once more printed without any correction. So it is con- ceivable how, particularly on this ground, the follow- ing judgment is pronounced by Spiegel on our second part : " It appears that this was never able to acquire the same value as the first. At all events the Iskandar Saga will lose very little thereby, for from Erdmann's extracts it appears plainly that the whole contains unsubstantial pictures only, which, in this form at THE ALEXANDER.BOOK. 175 least, can hardly ever have lived in the mouths of the people, and could only have been invented by the fancy of individuals." Perhaps it is to be ascribed to this harsh judgment that hitherto no one has yet been found to save the honour of this undoubtedly significant poet, and bestow a nearer view upon a work which forms an integral portion of the Alex- ander-Book? The following representation, however, is intended to be not merely the safeguard of Nizami's honour ; it will show not only that the second part surpasses the first in the richness of its matter, but will thoroughly prove that it is composed of such elements as belong to the Oriental Alexander-legend, and throw upon it a new light. In addition to this, it will be of especial interest to observe how many a Greek legend, of which the existence was previously unknown in the East, has, been worked up by Nizami, whereby is opened the question, what were the sources which he made use of for that pur- pose ? But that must be the special subject of the, following section. 176 NIZAMI. II.— The Sources from which Nizami drew. THE predominant peculiarity of the Nizamian Alex- ander-Book is its completeness, in agreement with which the various directions which the Oriental Saga followed in the glorification of the Macedonian Conqueror are in it united. The poet himself char- acterizes these directions : Some entitle him Lord of the Throne, Taker of kingdoms— nay more, Master of the whole world ; Some, regarding the Vizier of his Court [Aristotle], Inscribe his diplom.-i with the name of Sage ; Some, for his purity and devotion to the Faith, Give him admission to the order of the Prophets. Alexander as conqueror and also as sage had already been glorified in the Greco-Egyptian legend. With the Orientals, who assign to him his great teacher as Vizier, he holds a place amongst the Grecian philo- sophers. The third place — prophecy — is the outflow of the Mohammedan spirit, and rests upon the well- known passage in the Koran (xviii., 82-98) in which Dul-karnain is spoken of, who by a preponderance of opinion is generally understood to be Alexander the Great. Certainly many teachers of Islam are not pleased with the glorification of a heathen king, and many assume on this account a second Dul-karnain, as indeed both the old tradition teachers Kabalakhbar and Ibn-abbas, who see in the honoured personage of THE AI.EXANDER-BOOK. 177 the Koran an ancient Himyarishan king, which the historians then, as Makrizi and Abulfeda, take as cer- tain. The geographical work Yakut takes Hkewise the view which assumes two Dul-karnains, but adds to the older one another name. " Others report," so it says, " that the one who built Alexandria — the first Alexander Dul-karnain — was from Rum, whose name was Ask-ibn-Selukus, and who is not to be confounded with Alexander the son of Philip. It was the first Alexander who went through the world, and who reached the realm of darkness : and, further, he was the companion of Musa and Khizar, and built the wall. It was he who, at eveiy place which no one reached except himself, caused to be imaged an iron horse with an iron rider, who lays his left hand on the bridle of the horse, and stretches out the right, upon which was to be read : " Beyond me there is no way." Further, they maintain that between this and the other Alexander, who had to do with Darius, possessed himself of Persia, was familiar with Aristotle the Wise, and lived to the age of thirty-two years, a long period intervened. Moreover, the first was a believer, as God declares of him in his Book, and reached an advanced age as ruler of the whole earth ; whilst the other adopted the views of the philosophers, and maintained the eternity of the world— as is the opinion of his teacher Aristotle— slew Darius, and acquired merely the sovereignity of Persia and Rum. Nevertheless, with the commentators upon the Koran the identity of Alexander with Dul-karnain appears to 178 NIZAMI. preponderate ; for Baidawi, after pronouncing simply in favour of Iskandar of Rum, the king of Persia and Greece, adds : " As to his claims to the gift of prophecy there are different views, even when there exists an entire agreement with reference to his orthodoxy and piety." Thus, at all events, Nizami was justified in claiming for Alexander, as a main motive of his actions in the poem, his dignity as a prophet. His religious nature could be satisfied only when the hero of his new work is not merely the ideal of a hero — has not merely reached the highest step of wisdom, but also possessed that nimbus, which in the eyes of the pious Moslem is the highest on earth, that of prophecy. But in doing this he had also significantly enlarged the domain of his subject. That Nizami left nothing unexplored, that he drew together everything within his compass which bore upon his object, is shown particularly by the following verses : When \\ith much trouble I undertook this stoiy, The words flowed freely, but the road was very intricate. The traditions of that King who had ruled the world I found no scroll which had fully chronicled. The legends which had been preserved had been hoarded like treasure, But they were scattered abroad and with difficulty found. From every m.anuscript I collected capital, And bound and embellished it with the jewels of poetry. I augmented my store from the more recent histories — Jewish, .-ind Christian, and old Pahlavi ; I selected from every grain that \\hich was excellent, THE ALEXANDER-BOOK. 179 And from every pod the innermost kernel ; I joined the riches of one tongue to those of another, And moulded the mass into a complete whole. \\\\sA works amongst the Jewish, Christian, and ancient Persian (Pahlavi) are meant, cannot of course be discovered : but through the mention of them we are permitted to presume a tolerably rich literature from which Nizami drew materials for his poem. The Jewish elements we shall learn to know in the course of our inquiries, and, as to Christian works, we may reckon with some certainty the apothegms of the physician Honain-ibn-Ishak, for our Alexander-Book offers much which is found in that relative to books more than three centuries old. As regards the Pahlavi writings, we know from Sams-ad-din, a Mohammedan writer of the eleventh century, that there were still existing in his time chronicles and books of old songs in Pahlavi. Many a circumstance in the first part, particularly the account of the de- struction of the Fire Temple, points to heathen Persian sources. Moreover, Nizami names there at the beginning of almost every section, even of fiction, a Fire-honouring Dihkan (a chief man) as voucher for it. f Nizami has likewise, for the hushing-up of his his- torical conscience, arranged as an introduction of the first part a special chapter, in which he briefly nar- rates the real history of Alexander — of course, accord- ing to Oriental conception. He is self-conscious of the legendary character of his poem, and thinks — i8o NIZAMI. Were I to diminish the embellishments of my poem, I should reduce my couplets to a very small amount : All the acts of this world-parading monarch I should have brought to an end in this single sheet of paper. But he has also a clear comprehension of the poetical truthfulness of fiction, and concludes this section with the words : The fiction which resembleth truth Is better than the truth which is dissevered from rectitude. From what is intended to be the historical narrative of Alexander's life is especially to be distinguished the description of the manner in which he measured the whole earth as well by land as by sea. Further, it should be noticed that the Alexandrian era — the Seleucidian — began with the day on which he entered upon his prophetical office. III. — Apollonius of Tyana in the Alexander- Saga. A POLLONIUS plays a too important part in the work of Nizami not to make it necessary to throw a little light on the position which he occupied with respect to Alexander. As philosopher, Belinas is one of the Seven Wise Men of the second part; as an adept in the secret powers of nature, as companion of Alexander in his travels, and as founder of talismans, THE ALEXANDER-BOOK. he comes before us in both parts. We have, therefore, certainly to think about the celebrated Tyanese. From the wonderful circumstances of his life, the East assigned him the conspicuous position which was most accordant with its own natural tastes, and named him " Originator of Talismans.'' Philostratus indeed mentions, with reference to the pestilence in Ephesus, only one talisman for warding off the calamity, but by the Byzantine writers he is credited with several. On this account it may rest on did local traditions if Kasvini specifies nine talismans as made by Apollonius. The extraordinary thing is, that he is made a contemporary of the Sassanides, and that in Hamadan, expressly at the request of Kobad, he erected a lion as a talisman against the deep snow, as well as on the two sides of the lion talismans against beasts of prey, scorpions, and fleas. More- over, the Lake in Khelat, the capital of Armenia, which during two months of the year produces such abundance of fish that it is carried to India, was a work of Apollonius for Kobad. For one of the Khosrus he made in Karmisin a talisman against scorpions. On the other hand, again, he is brought into connection with the Roma.n Emperors, for one of whom he erected a bath in Caesarea. The other works ascribed to Apollonius are : the salt pits of Ferahan, a district of Hamadan and of Kum ; a treasure-vault and likewise a cemetery of the old Armenian kings ; three horses at Constantinople, and a wonderful olive- tree in the Sion's church at Rome. Apollonius is iS2 NIZAM/. transferred to the time of Alexander by the historica work of Mugmil-Attawarikh, which tells us that ht made a talisman for the Pharos at Alexandria. Thai Nizami adopts the same anachronism is a ver) happy notion of the poet, bringing, as it does, so many features into the history of his hero, which lends it a new interest. The first time that Apol- lonius proves himself is in the expedition to anni- hilate the Fire-temple of the Magians. A priestess oi the race of Rustam, by name Hazar-humai — that is, Fire-phcenix — defends the sanctuary against the as- assailants by assuming the form of a dragon, and by other magical secrets. Aristotle, from whom Alex- ander receives counsel, draws his attention to Apol- lonius, telling him that he also is versed in magical arts, and is a maker of talismans. Apollonius is suc- cessful in overcoming the priestess, and requests, as a reward that he may be allowed to marry her; and by her aid perfects himself in the mysteries of her magic arts. Soon afterwards we find him in the closest intercourse with the King, who applies to him for assistance in every perplexity. Under his advice the army of Alexander, when preparing for the great expedition to India and China, buries its treasures in the ground, and secures it with a talisman. Later Alexander is instructed by him in the meaning of the lines on the wonderful goblet of Kai-Khosru, and commands him so to enchant the throne of that mythical king, which he has found in Norderan, as to throw off every one who attempts to sit upon it THE ALEXANDER-BOOK. 183 Apollonius likewise, in order to satisfy the curiosity of the King, permits himself to be tied to a rope, and to be let down into a pit which is supposed to be a burial and treasure-vault of Kai-Khosru, and finds it full of burning sulphur. He is afterwards the leader of a deputation which Alexander sends to the Kaid of Hindostan. When they set out on the expedition against the Russians through the country of the Kip- kaks, whose women will never veil their faces in the presence of men, at the request of Alexander he erects a talisman consisting of a stone-image, which has its face veiled, and which compels every woman who passes by to do the same. When in the decisive battle Fortune appears to be inclining to the side of the Russians, Apollonius assures the King that his victory is written in the stars, but that he must him- self enter mto the combat. The occasions on which Apollonius comes before us in the second part will be noticed in their place. For the rest, how rich the East is in such talismans is clear from Kasvini, who reckons up fourteen others over and above those of Apollonius. 1 84 NIZAMI IV. — The Introductory Narratives TN our second part is found, in the first place, a series of narratives apparently having no relation to it, which yet on a nearer observation exhibit them- selves as a representation of ethical truths which Nizami wishes his hero to learn before he proceeds to the proper objects of his poem — the philosophy and prophetical oflSce of Alexander. Such a gradation is founded on Mohammedan views, and is very clearly conducted throughout. Moreover, he does not neglect to give to the introduced narratives, which all stand in relation to Alexander, whether it be at the end or in the course of them, the instructive direction at which he aims. The narrative loses certainly in this way its progressive pace ; but as the stories are con- joined at a middle point, the unity of the poem is preserved. Amongst these narratives those have an especial interest for us which are of Greek origin. Interesting also is the way in which they follow one another in a certain degree systematically, as will be immediately shown. I.— The first forms properly only the termination of the section which bears the title, " The Beginning of the Story," and forms the connection of the second part with the first. \\& are informed how Alexander, after the conquest of the world, established his resi- dence in Rum, and collected there, above all, the THE ALEXANDER-BOOK. 185 spiritual fruits of his victories. He ordered especially that the countless works which he had found amongst different nations should be translated, and new writings prepared as rules for the conduct of life. Amongst the works made use of is particularly named the "Parsee Book of the Kings," which to him "was current as flowing water." Of the newly-composed works three are named, "A Description of the Universe," " A Spiritual World," and an " Alexander- Book." To these, especially to the last, mysterious operations are attributed. Thereupon the King issues a proclamation that every wise man will be welcomed and honoured at his court. The wise men stream together towards it from all sides, and, in their noble zeal, nurture the sciences into full bloom : From the learning of that knowledge-prizing King The fame of Greece for its science was highly exalted. Now that region hath folded its leave.s, Time hath departed, but not its name for learning. Calcutta Edition, p. 20. Alexander also built for himself a quiet hermitage, into which he could withdraw, when the bustle of the world had fatigued him, for prayer and meditation. Thereupon is portrayed his rectitude, and in con- clusion, as a supplement, is described his mode of conquest, which is in the highest degree original. Now follows at last the first narrative, in which a musician at Alexander's court is presented as the possessor of a splendid dress, wonderfully embroidered in all the seven colours, and so beautiful that it i86 NIZAM/. delights the King as often as he looks at it. But it was old and torn, and the owner tries the expedient of turning it inside out. Alexander thinks he has disposed of his dress, and questions him about it ; but when he hears the answer he feels greatly moved, and exclaims (/. 23) : When from the mystery the veil is removed, The whole worlrl will soon be perfumed by its odour ; When from the richly-embroidered brocade of Rum The blemish can thus easily be turned inside out, It is well that we should not, like the black aloes-wood, Burst into flame in this our silver-chased incense-dish. II. — The following section, according to its title, explains the reason of the epithet "Two-homed." After five of the known views one is adduced from the Kitab-al-Uluf of Abu-Masar, which derives the ap- pellation froin a misunderstanding of the Arabs, who saw in the two angels in the likeness of Alexander, brought to them from Greece, and which the artist had introduced on each side of the head, " horns.'' But these opinions form only the introduction to a seventh, according to which the appellation rests upon the fact that Alexander had uncommonly large ears. He conceals them, and only his barber is acquainted with the secret. This man dies, and the King takes another, enjoining upon him strict silence. But the constraint torments him, and he frees his breast by calling out the mysterious words in a well in the wilderness. Out of this grows a reed, in which sound the words of the barber. In an THE ALEXANDER-BOOK. 1S7 excursion Alexander notices this to be true at a shep- herd's, whose pipe was cut out of that well. The barber is brought before him and questioned, and confesses the truth. The king draws from the cir- cumstance this lesson (/. 26): He became aware that in the open field of the world, Nothing, however hidden, remaineth concealed. He remembered the flute-player only with kindness, Set him at liberty, and freed him from the sword. Know that from the bud of ruby or of pearl Will burst into flower whatsoever filleth it ; Though it be a jewel encased in hard marble, Whatever it really is will at last be made plain. This surprising and very exact application of the Midas story, to which a point is given by the moral- ising tendency of Nizami, is evidently brought forward here only on account of the last lesson it conveys, which connects itself closely in its particulars with the foregoing. Whether Nizami was the originator of this application — he ascribes it himself to the oral communication of an intelligent man — or from what legend it was borrowed, cannot be determined. III. — The third narrative bears a purely Oriental stamp. Alexander falls into melancholy on account of the sickness of a beloved maiden whom the phy- sicians have already given up. Then he sees from the roof of his palace an old shepherd, whom he summons before hira. This man, who in his younger years had lived at a princely court, recounts to him the history of a prince of Marv, which suited the case. Hardly NIZAMI. had he concluded it when news was brought to the King that the sick maiden was out of danger, and the shepherd left the court richly rewarded. As a useful application, follows in conclusion (/. 30) : Whosoever possesseth purity of nature, From him thou mayst write down such stories as these. Virtue beameth from a generous spirit, As light from the moon, or as brilliancy from Jupiter. The intelligent man, if his brain be not muddled, Knovveth how to distinguish between felt and silk. Whosoever bringeth thee good words, Listen to them with thine heart as they come from his brain ; To the tongue which uttereth words without reason. The answer that best becometh thee is — silence. IV. — To the foregoing love-stories links itself another, which is especially noteworthy through the name of its hero. Archimedes is the handsomest youth of his time, and highly distinguished by Alex- ander. Aristotle also, " whose instruction is listened to by a hundred scholars, who have learned from him the knowledge of good and evil," loves him, takes him into the relation of son, and addresses his teaching specially to him, " for an intelligent hearer is better than a hundred without discernment." Once Archi- medes stayed away a longer time than usual from the lectures, and, questioned by the master as to the cause, he confesses that the love of a beautiful maiden withheld him from serious occupation. In order to prove to him the folly of his love, Aristotle begs him to communicate to him the object of it, and by means of a bitter potion he contrives to THE ALEXANDER-BOOK. 189 extract from the maiden those juices which were the sources of her beauty. The young man turns away from the now ugly one, but his sorrow moves the master to restore her beauty. She lives with him yet one spring, but then is carried off by a sudden death. The narrative, as the voucher for which is named "an old man of the old men of Rum," forms a supplement to the preceding one ; which shows the true and therefore indestructible passion, whilst the last represents the sensuous aijd transient one. Herein is conspicuous in Aristotle's mouth the value of monogamy {p. 33) : One equal marriage quite sufficetli tliee ; In the midst of many men a man is companionless : Fate is distracted in its councils on this account, That it hath seven fathers and four mothers. V. — The fifth narrative has an interest on account of its heroine's bearing a name which a wife of Mohammed had borne, namely, the " Coptic Mary." She is a princess from Syria, who after her father's death is driven away by strangers from her dominion. To implore justice she comes to Alexander's court, and, inspired by the wisdom of Aristotle, joins herself closely to him as a scholar. She does not return home till she has filled her writing-tablets with all kinds of knowledge, and especially has learned the art of making gold. Alexander replaces her in her father's kingdom, and she begins now to unlock by her art immeasurable treasures. The whole court became resplendent with gold, which she applies to igo NIZAM/. her daily wants. A band of dispirited alchemists, portrayed in a very life-like manner, who know no art, and have only the means of living for the day, repairs to Mary to beseech her to tell them her secret. When the princess has first mystified them, giving the black locks of her head as the principle of gold- making, she holds with them a discourse on the different kinds of herbs applicable to alchemy. Then the poet introduces, in order to oppose the right alchemy to the false, a playful anecdote : how a man from Khorasan cheated the city of Bagdad and the Khalif, and got himself much money, substituting the word Kibrit (sulphur) into Tibrik, and giving that as one of the alchemistic ingredients. Then it is told at the conclusion how Mary's wealth awakens envy, and how their calumnies affect Alexander. By Aris- totle's advice, she conciliates them by uncommonly rich presents; with which he connects the saying lyp. 42): The bestowing of direms [money] extinguisheth hatred, And displaceth from the bosom the ancient grudge. VI. — Now follows a supplement to the foregoing narrative. Here the calumny is directed against a man, who within a year's space has bounded up from the deepest poverty to the greatest riches. Sum- moned by the King to justify himself, he recounts his story, of which the circumstances are briefly as follows. He had come to his present abode a stranger, and in the utmost necessity ; and, at the supplication of his THE ALEXANDER-BOOK. 191 wife, who was near her confinement, for food betook himself, full of despair, to the wilderness, where he found no benevolent hand to assist him. Then he enters a hut, where dwelt two Moors, brothers, of whom one is just gone out to fetch a large treasure. The other spares the man who is seeking assistance, but obliges him to conceal himself. When the first returns, and, being tired, falls asleep, his own brother murders him. The man who sees this is horrified, but makes use of the opportunity, whilst the murderer is dragging out the corpse, to remove himself with the treasure, and goes back immediately to his wife, whom he finds delivered of a boy. Alex- ander tries his horoscope, which confirms the truth of what the man has told him, and he is dismissed with honour. VII. — After these six narratives, which, taken from the circle of ordinary life, treat in three groups of three subjects — mystery, love, and riches — follow four others, which are intended to form the transition to the purely philosophical sections, and the heroes of which are the wise men who live at the court of Alexander. In the first of these is described a con- spiracy, which is formed in the little learned society against him who surpasses them all in acuteness and power of argument, Hermes, whose colleagues refuse their applause to his most discriminating explana- tions. He loses all patience at last, and by the mighty power of his word changes the seventy men into motionless statues. Alexander, when he comes 192 NIZAMl. thither, and learns what has been done, praises Hermes, and condemns the contumacious men whom he has thus punished. He further expresses his approval of it to each of them, and, amongst other things, says (/. 50) : Because they put .1 shroud on the lessons of the teacher, Lo ! the winding-sheet of Fate hath enshrouded them ! The exposition which is strong to demonstration, If thou wilt not listen to, thou must learn by unhappiness ! The pearl, whose proper place is the crown of the head, It is not auspicious to dash to the ground ! Apparently we have here to do with one of the many miraculous acts ascribed to Trismegistus. Hermes will come again before us as one of the Wise Men. Vni. — The following section is a glorification of the noble science of music. Once particularly the Grecian philosophers sat assembled and brought for- ward proofs of their various kinds of knowledge. Then a proud word uttered by Aristotle, distinguished by the King before all the rest, who believes that he unites in himself all knowledge, offends the hoary Plato (/.si): Out burst Plato, provoked, from that assembly, Who held the mastery in all the sciences ; For of all the learning which men had acquired, The first page they had learnt from him. He withdr.-iws from all society, and makes his dwelling under a lofty dome, in order to listen and find out thence the tones of the seven spheres. THE ALEXANDER-BOOK. 193 After various attempts he contrives an instrument which produces the most wonderful tunes {f. 52) : He attained such mastery over the harmony of sweet sounds, That whatever chord he struck he fettered the reason ; He concluded an alliance between man and beast, And bound them by his melodies one to the other, To such a degree that of all born of man The desire was turned towards dancing and jubilation. Lions and wild beasts, at the sound of that crooked lyre, One wakened up, and another was lulled to sleep ; But when in a concord of soft wailing tones He mingled together its many harmonies. From the instrument he drew forth such sweet music As no one but himself had ever produced. Such was the burst of that blended melody, That it moved to sadness the breast of the mournful ; And such was the power of its soothing tones That it revealed to the heart of the wise its mysteries and ailments. Then he betook himself to the wilderness, placed himself in a magic circle drawn for the purpose, and began to prove the operations of his art (/. 53); Wild beasts and deer from desert and mountain Came running towards him, herd upon herd ; They came running towards him, each at his tones, And placed their heads on the frame of his lyre ; Then one by one they clean lost their senses. And fell like the dead on the face of the earth. Nor did the young wolf offer violence to the sheep ; Nor had the rapacious lion a desire for the wild-ass. Then he knew how to change the melody. And give to the curved lyre another modulation. So that the wild beasts roared with excitement, O 194 NIZAMI. And again from that madness recovered their senses, And spread themselves once more over the face of the eart Who can call to mind so wonderful an occurrence ? The fame of Plato's miracles came to the cou where it made an exciting impression, especially i Aristotle. He was troubled, "as a rival who shamed by his rival." After long pondering, succeeds in producing ' tones similar to those Plato, but their effects are not nearly so magnificei He hurries back to his old teacher, asks him forgive him, and submits himself to his deeper per tration. But Alexander establishes Plato as mast of science in Rum. There are three elements out of which Nizami, his authority, has put together this narrative : t jealousy between Aristotle and Plato; the theory the harmony of the spheres of Pythagoras ; and t wonder-working music of Orpheus. By the ma notices which were current in the East of the Sta rite would have become known the charge of mar that he was Plato's personal rival. Of Pythagor£ Kasvini is aware that " he was the founder of t science of music, and that he established the pri ciples of melody according to the tones of the celest movements by virtue of his penetration and the cleai nature of his soul." For the rest, the whole h received an Oriental stamp, and from the natu: enchantment of music has become more talisman being already connected externally with the ma< square. THE ALEXANDER-BOOK. 195 IX. — The next section is closely connected with the foregoing one. The following day an assemblage of the Wise Men takes place at the court of Alexander. The King inquires of Plato, after praising him for his knowledge of the mysterious powers of nature, whether there are hidden matters which are inaccessible to him. The answer is, that in earlier times they knew how to work more enchantments than the present are capable of apprehending. As an example Plato re- counts the story of the Ring of Gyges, which rendered the possessor invisible. A shepherd finds in a cavity in the ground a copper horse, in which lies the body of a man still uncorrupted. He draws off a ring from the finger, and discovers by intercourse with other shepherds that the ring possesses the power of ren- dering invisible. He makes use of it for the purpose of obtaining his wishes, and in conclusion surprises the ruler of the land, and presents himself before him as a prophet, giving the operation of the ring as a proof of miraculous power. The amazed king flies in terror, and the shepherd acquires his dominions. " How to discover the secret of the ring," says Plato at last, "I have sought in vain." We see that the conclusion of the well-known story has received a genuine Mohammedan colouring. That it is put into the mouth of Plato has certainly no other foundation than that it is derived from his writings. X. — The last piece is a version of the well-known dialogue between Alexander and Diogenes. The latest works on the Pcendocallisthenes transfers it 196 NIZAMI. from the Isthmus to Athens, where Alexander wish( to reward Diogenes because he had counselled th Athenians against the war ; but he desires nothin from him except to stand aside and allow him to su himself quietly. Once transferred to Athens, it wa easy also to change the hero of the anecdote, and witl such a change it arrived in the East. They recount so says Kasvini, that Alexander repaired to Plate his teacher's teacher, and placed himself before hin whilst he was resting his back in a sunny placi against the wall. Questioned by Alexander whethe he had any request, Plato answered : " My request i: that thou wilt free me from the shade, for thou hin derest the sun from coming to me." Then the Kin; proffered him gold, as well as a costly silk dress Then said Diogenes : " Plato wants not the stone of th( earth, nor the dryness from the plants, nor the slinK from the worm, but he wants something which h( will have with him whithersoever he turns." Nizami, ai his voucher, goes yet further, and refers the scene tc Socrates, who is portrayed as an Oriental hermit, whc has withdrawn himself to the wilderness, in order tc live only a life of contemplation. Generally, as is stated in the introduction, at that time a love o: moderation and abstemiousness quite possessed the Greeks, and they had to thank these qualities espe cially for their ^ glory. One day Alexander ordered Socrates to appear in his presence ; he refuses tc come, which only increases still more the desire ol the King to see him {p. 60) : THE ALEXANDER-BOOK. 197 For this is the disposition that hath been given to men, To recall to remembrance those who are forgetful of them ; And the more a man seeketh to fly from others, The more obstinately they fix their affections upon him. After many vain attempts the King sends to ques- tion the philosopher as to the grounds of his refusal ; and he repHes in a long outburst, the termination of which contains the kernel : To dread men of the world what need hath the slave, Who girdeth his loins in the service of the Holy God ? In this slavery I am thy master ; Should I come to thee, I become slave to thee !"(/>. 62) At last Alexander resolves to seek out the philo- sopher on foot and alone. He finds him sleeping, and desirous of speaking with him, he jogs the slumberer with his foot; and now he is obliged to hear the bitterest truths of the dignity of the wise in com- parison with sovereigns ; amongst others : I am master of a slave whose name is Passion, To whose obedience I have a rightful claim : Thou art one who is the slave of a slave ; Serving submissively him who ought to be our servant (p. 63). Questioned whether he has no wish to gratify, he replies that he has none, and represents to the King what unbecortiing conduct it was to awaken him in the way that he had done. Alexander acknowledges the impropriety, and asks in the end for wise counsel. Socrates becomes gentler, and gives him a series of various instructions which the King prizes so highly, that he returns home and orders them to be inscribed NIZAMI. in golden ink. The sources of this narrative have been already indicated; the treatment of it as a whole may well be attributed to Nizami himself, who in all likelihood desired to mirror in it his own rela- tions to princes. In conclusion it may be remarked that much of what besides is reported of Diogenes is by Oriental authors ascribed to Socrates. So Honain relates that Socrates had a tub which afforded him protection against storms, and shade against the heat. When he was about to die it is said his scholars asked him : "What dost thou enjoin to be done with thy body?" — " Let him who has to clear out the place concern himself with that,'' was the answer. V. — Alexander .\s Philosopher. XT ITHERTO the royal hero of the poem has been chiefly a hearer, who draws instruction from what he has heard or experienced; in the following sections he shows in himself his capacity to perceive and prove the truths of wisdom. First is recounted how Alexander was one day seated in learned conversation with his Wise Men, when an Indian was announced, who, through his multifarious knowledge, soon wins the approbation THE ALEXANDER-BOOK. 199 of the King, and then directs to him the following request (/. 67) : Thou seest in me the Primate of the Indians, Aged in thoughtfulness, but youthful in power ; Yet many are the mysteries which perplex my mind — Mysteries, which no one hath been able to reveal. I have heard that of all the teachers of the age, Thou art the most accomplished for all time ; That in understanding thou art a thread of priceless pearls, That thy reason is a volume unravelling all knots. That, although the master of crown and throne, Fortune hath gifted thee with the perfume of knowledge also. If I obtain from thee an answer to what I shall ask, I will then turn away my adoration from the Sun ; But if I receive not from the King an answer to the purpose. Again I must replace my pack on my own ass ; But I will have no other counsellor save the King, No one else shall enter into the number. From me the question shall come, from thee shall be the answer ; The words of happy augury must be from thyself. The Indian asks first : Where then is the one invisible Creator to be sought for } The answer is, that human intelligence can reach only those things which can be grasped by the senses. On this account the Godhead must remain ever remote, but it reveals itself to the reasoning mind in the whole of creation. In a similar manner Alexander answers also the other questions of the Indian as to the finite or infinite duration of the universe : whether we must assume another, super- terrestrial, world ; upon the existence of the soul, which to the questioner appears to be a fire, with the NIZAMI. extinction of which, by death, existence ceases ; upor dreams ; upon the influence of the " evil eye ; ' upon the possibihty of reading Fate by the astro logical constellations ; finally, as to the cause of the different colours of the skin in the Chinese and the Moors, who yet, both of them, are warmed by one sun. Hereupon the Indian retires, enraptured by the wisdom of the King. We see here the questions brought together which most excited the times and surroundings of Nizami ; two metaphysical ones, the existence of the Creator and the duration of the creation ; the two weightiest questions of Faith, those of another life and the immortality of the soul ; one psychological, on Dreams, which already leads hall way to the two following, belonging to the domain of the supernatural ; whilst the concluding one forms an anthropological question. If the material of the con- versation belongs entirely to the poet, still the notion of it is drawn from a feature of the true history of Alexander — his conversation, namely, with the Indian gymnosophists ; which is also found in the legendary statements. Moreover, these discourses find a place in Ferdusi during Alexander's presence in India ; but the economy of the poem demanded that Nizami should place them here first, as well as that he should so far modify them that Alexander should be the answerer, whilst, in the former case, he it is who puts the questions. The following section is a collection of the various views with respect to the origin of the world, so THE ALEXANDER-BOOK. dressed that they may be put into the mouths of the Seven Wise Men at Alexander's court, who at the desire of the King gave them expression. The intro- duction places these philosophers before us, and informs us that Alexander Of those philosophers selected seven, Upon not one of whose hearts rested a fault : Aristotle, who was the Vizier of his kingdom, Apollonius the useful, and Socrates the aged, Plato, and Thales, and Porphyrins, To all of whom the Holy Spirit had given the hand-kiss; The seventh was Hermes, the endowed with good judgment. Who was worthy to take his place in the seventh heaven {p. 74). Then the King assembles and lays before them a question, which he says has already given him many a sleepless night : In what way we are to think of creation ; for that the world has been made is a pos- tulate of the sound understanding. The initiation is taken by Aristotle. He, as the rest also, begins with the praise of the King, and then explains, how from the first movement proceeded gradually three movements ; the generators of three expansions, which, connecting themselves with matter, formed body. This body remained in constant agita- tion ; its glowing portion mounted upwards and formed the eternally circling heaven. Out of this Fire then evolved itself, which produced Air; out of the Air streamed forth Water ; and out of this, as its deposit, was formed the Earth. When the four ele- ments had taken their natural positions, from their NIZAMl. commixture proceeded the Plant, and from the Plant animated existence (/. 85). He is followed by Thales, who assumes Water as the original substance ; from the agitation of which he believes Fire to be " breathed out." From this, through the separation of the darker portions, arose Air, and as the agitation of the Water abated, was formed as its deposit the Earth. Out of these indi- visible substances composed themselves the objects of nature ; after the finest atoms of the whole had formed the revolving Sky (/. 77). Hereupon speaks Apollonius. He designates the stiff Earth as the origin of existence. Set in motion, it freed itself from its stiffness, and the ascending vapours, lowering themselves to the most suitable place, formed gradually the constituent parts of the universe ; the finest of them the Heavenly bodies, the less fine the Fire-spheres, then the Air, the Water, and finally the Earth (/. 77). Peculiar is the view which is put in the mouth of Socrates (/. 78) : On the first page, when as yet creation was not, Nothing was discernible save God, the Lord. From His Majesty arose a lofty cloud, Of which every flash of lightning, every rain-drop was beneficent. From its rain the Heavens came into sight; From its lightning the Sun and Moon became visible ; And of the essence which descended from its vapours Was formed the Earth and steadied in its place. According to Porphyrius, God first created matter : THE ALEXANDER-BOOK. 205 this became, in. virtue of an emanation from the Creator, a watery substance, which separated itself into two parts, of which one formed the Heaven and the other the Earth. The view of Hermes is the following (/. 79) : From the time that I trod the paths of thought, I have been a gazer on this azure vault. I know that this vault, like a magnificent ocean, Is suspended as a mist on the summit of a mountain ; Above the mist so awful and so grand, There is a resplendent expanse of light, bright and unsullied. In face of this mist and before this light Is a veil which is pierced with window on window ; From every breach which hath opened a way through the mist Blazes forth the light in full measure ; And the stars likewise, from the moon to the sun. Are kindled by the splendour which issueth forth from the veil. Of creation itself I know nothing rightly ; I know not How the Creator first began His work. The last speaker is Plato. He combats especially the assumption of an original matter: God has created individual substances, one independent of the other, out of nothing. If there were an original matter, he is of opinion that it must be eternal (A 80). At length Alexander rises, and, bestowing high praises on the Wise Men (/. 81), Beginneth : O ye who have been nurtured in science, Much thought have I given to this question of the stars. I know that these images have not grown of themselves ; There must have been one to portray them at the fir^t. I know that there must be a Modeller behind, 204 NIZAMl. But " the How " He modelled them, of that I know nothing. If I knew "the How" He made them, I should be able to make them, as He hath made them. For every image which presenteth itself to the mind, It is certainly possible to exhibit in deed. And since we know not how to read the mysteries of creation. Why curiously pry into what He hath concealed ? Ye who have studied the Heavens as the pages of a book. See to what contrariety of opinion ye are arrived ! On this subject it is not well to say more than This, That the Model of the Universe must have had a Modeller! Nizami shows in this section that he had no insig- nificant acquaintance with philosophical systems. But he cannot forbear placing at the close his ov^n view concerning the subject of the conversation. The first thing which, according to him, God created, is Reason. To it every thing is clear, except the original plan of creation. Hence the barrier to Reason, which it should not attempt to break through. It can give information only so far as its own might can pene- trate. He who can hold to this is the truly reasonable man, and is satisfied to infer the originator from the work. The verses which follow are peculiar. The poet utters reproaches against himself, because he has allowed philosophers long since dead to express their views, notwithstanding that he would be able to express merely his own. These reproaches of his conscience he clothes in the form of an appeal, which he hears from his heavenly protecting spirit, Khizar. As a justification, as it were, he joins to it a vindica- tion of a bodily resurrection {p. 8 1 ). THE ALEXANDER-BOOK. 205 VI.— Alexander's call to be a Prophet — The Books of Wisdom. A S soon as Alexander had ascended the steps of ^ *■ knowledge till he had reached the limits of human instruction, the enlightening beam of Prophecy must be his portion. A Serush, or Angel, veiled in dazzling light, brings him the intelligence {p. 81). He said : Far greater than mountains and rivers, The Creator of the world sendeth thee a benediction. In addition to granting thee the sovereignly of the earth. He bestoweth upon thee the gift of Prophecy. To one who, lilce thee, is accustomed to command, O King, this is the command of the All-Provider, That thou shouldst chase away rest from thy place of rest, And in this thy supremacy refuse not the toil of travel. Thou must circle like the heavens the round of the universe, Thou must exalt to the sun the heads of savage men ; Thou must conjure the nations to quit their evil ways. To turn to the All- Powerful, and to thine own Faith ; Thou must build anew this time-worn vault. Thou must wash out carelessness from all its quarters ; Thou must free the earth from the demon of injustice. Thou must incline all hearts to the Sovereign of the world ; Thou must rouse from their sleep the heads of the slumberers. Thou must withdraw the veil from the face of intelligence ; Thou art a treasure of mercy from God, the Holy, An ambassador sent to the destitute of the earth ; Thou must explore diligently the circuit of the globe. That each one of its inhabitants may receive his portion : 206 NIZAMI. Since thy hand is laid on the kingdoms of this world, It is well that thou shouldst extend it to that of the other ; For in the ministration for which thou art about to journey, Look to the approval of God, not to thine own ease ! The King listens to the message full of reverenc( but it raises within him some hesitation. He se£ especially difiSculties in .his unacquaintedness wit the languages of the people who are to be convertec in the toilsomeness of the roads for a great army, am in the obduracy of those who are to be led to a pur fear of God. The heavenly messenger comforts him and discloses to him from the Deity the promisee means of assistance. Before all, that there will bi waiting patiently, in the four parts of the world those who will ever be at hand to do him service and that against the dangers of the way it has beer provided, that (/. 86) In whatsoever place thy prudence shall bid thee rest, The light and the darkness will be at thy disposal ; Light will be before thee, and darkness be behind ; Thou wilt see all, but none shall see thee. Whoever shall not stand aloof from thy commission, To him give light from the light which thou hast ; Whoever shall hide his head from thine approach. Him consign to his own darkness ; In order that, like a shadow in the absence of light. He may die away in his meanness and perversity. As to what concerns the languages, that the know- ledge of all of them would be given him as well as the confirmatory signs of his mission (/. 86) : THE ALEXANDER-BOOK. 207 Midst every tribe where thou shall show thy face, They will bring to thine ear strange languages, But by the inspiration of thy Friend, who pointeth out the way, Thou wilt understand the speech of every people ; Thou wilt be versed in the tongue of every country. Nor will the meaning be hidden of aught that they may utter ; And all that thyself shalt say in the speech of Rum, The listener will understand without an interpreter ; And by the proof of this divine miracle. Thou mayst establish the inconsistency of good with evil. So Strengthened, the King makes preparation for his great journey. Especially, he wishes to take with him the arms of the spirit, and so he orders to be prepared, in addition to the " Great Book, which was a copy in wisdom of the Divine Book,'' three other Wisdom-books, by the three greatest philosophers of his court, in order to take them with him as counsel- lors on his journey. Aristotle, Plato, and Socrates discharge themselves of the commissions severally intrusted to them to the highest satisfaction of the King. As to the contents of these books, they are a conglomeration of the most heterogeneous sentences and decisions. Here we can subjoin only a few dis- tichs from Aristotle's book (/. 90) : When thou chancest to fall between two ignorant evil-minded fellows, Drive them asunder, bridle from bridle ; Engage but the wolf with the panther in battle. Thou mayst withdraw the meal from between the two grind- stones. From the same (/. 90) : 208 NIZAMI. The treasury is intended to lay up treasure ; Treasure may be used in scattering enemies : By a bait of fat thou mayst entangle the foot of the fox ; For sweetmeats the child will give up the ring from its finger. From the same (/. 90) : Array not thyself like the hyacinths in the garden ; The lamp might be better in the hand of another ! Thus said to the Fire the worshipper ot Fire : Who that existeth here below is better than we ? The Fire replied : Art thou willing to learn ? Me it were better to extinguish, and thee to kill. From the same (/. 92) : Truth was the quality which thy mother brought thee ; Turn not from the nature which was thine from the first. From the saine (/. 92) : The shell of every substance is hard as bone. That it may hold within it a kernel like the pearl. From Plato's Book (/. 95) : Why do we sleep so much on this our threshold ? Is it because Sleep is the familiar friend of Death ? From the same (/. 96) : Wherfore turn thy bridle towards every quarter To gratify thine appetites and thy love of food ? Wherefore speed thy way through ocean and desert — Why hurry back and forwards for a loaf of bread ? Those who hasten on, if they are masters of their understanding, Are but hastening in search of a resting-place at the inn ; Those who tread the whole earth under their feet Are all at the last only aiming at repose ; All the wayfarers, who look before them. Bestow their approbation on those who are sitting still THE ALEXANDER.BOOK. 209 Happiness dwelleth in the realms of tranquillity, And, passest thou beyond them, all is vanity ! From the Book of Socrates (/. 99) : The meat which thou lockest up in thine own dwelling Will spread a bad odour through seventy houses ; When thou sendest it out to the whole village, It will perfume, like musk, every door and threshold. From the same (/. 100) : He who serveth us unwillingly, but in bland accents, Is better notwithstanding than the rough speaker, however benevolent : It beseemeth to know kindness in gentle speech ; Of what use is benevolence couched in harsh language ? VII. — The Commencement of the Journey — The IVJarch to the West. "P EADY for entering upon his second expedition -^ through the world, Alexander took measures for the administration of his kingdoms during his absence. His son, Iskandarus, he appointed his successor under the guardianship of his own mother, to whom he gives also the wisest rules of conduct, with an eye moreover to the possibilities of his never returning. Then he set forth with an army of a hundred thousand men and four thousand laden camels, and proceeded in the first place from Macedonia to NIZAM/. Alexandria. Here he ordered a high mound to be raised, and a mirror to be placed thereon to announce the arrival of an approaching enemy. Thence he repaired to Misr (Cairo), where he tarried two days. But before he could advance towards the West, properly so called, he was obliged to pay a visit also to the city of Jerusalem ; for (/. 105) Certain aggrieved persons from the Holy City, Who had suffered oppression from a tyrannical ruler. And had taken to the road to complain of his iniquity. Came and seized his bridle imploring his justice : " Since by thee, the earth is to be purified. Purify also the dwelling of purity ; Display thy standard in the Holy-Place, Cast out of the world all evil-minded men ! In that city of the pure there resides a Demon Who holdeth in enmity all the friends of God ; The obedient servants of that precious House Behold naught from him save anguish and injury. Forsaking himself the path of worship. He inflicts on the worshipper all kinds of cruelty ; He hath exalted his head in the shedding of blood. And in his iniquity hath he abased the heads of many. We are all in terror of this son of a Demon, Thou art the Demon-binder, of thee we crave justice !" Alexander shows himself compliant, and draws towards Jerusalem (/. 106) : When an outcry arose from plain and mountain, And the Tyrant was aware that his enemy was approaching. He girded his breast, and met him in battle, But he knew not the might of his watchful Fortune. In the first night attack which the King made THE . t /.-E.W iXDER-BOOK. He barred the road of that highway -robber. Then he immediately gave orders, that a herald Should make proclamation of all his iniquities, And that every one who thus commilteth injustice Should likewise come to a like bad end. When he had thus possessed himself of the Sanctuary, He purified its soil by mixing it with ambergris. Washed it clean from the pollution of the polluted, Rested a while in that abode of the peaceful, Removed from it every mark of tyranny and injustice, And left it once more a place of worship for the worshipper. This narrative rests plainly upon- that ' of the visit recounted by Josephus, the last worker on the Pseudo- Callisthenes and the Pseudo-Josephus. Only, eniy;- matical is the tendency which is given to it by Nizami. As exemplar of the oppressor, some Jewish account may have served of the tyranny of Antiochus Epiphanes. He, or his voucher, combined both elements, the more readily, as Alexander would thus enter upon his prophetical career in Palestine ; which, according to Mohammedan conceptions, a prophet must do. From Jerusalem the King went by Africa to Andalusia, in which land he left no settlement of man unvisited, establishing everywhere a condition of morality and religion. Here they embarked in their ships, and traversed the sea for three months towards the quarter where the sun sets (/. 107) : Many an island he saw uninhabited by man ; He went on voyaging from land to land ; Many a living creature he met with, NIZAMI. Both men and various species of animals ; But not one of them would come near and mingle with them But all fled away from mountain to mountain. After this voyage they arrive at a strip of coast, the sand of which was yellow and glittering, and in its composition and easiness to kindle resembling sulphur After eight months' march through this sandy deserl Alexander comes to the great ocean. Here is the end of the world, the place where the sun goes down, " the bounds of imagination." But nothing creates in th« King so much astonishment as the warm fountair which bubbles up out of the ocean. The philosophei whom he questions about it can only answer so fai as to say, that many have inquired into the cause in vain. Alexander bathes in the sea and finds the water heavy as quicksilver. On this account the knowing ones counsel him against traversing it, especially as it conceals other dangers, namely, a monster which kills men with a glance, and a coasi full of glistening stones which cause irresistible laughter and destroy them. The truth of this lasl is proved by some men who are sent thither; bul great loads of the stone are brought away by people with bandaged eyes. Then Alexander quits the place as soon as possible, taking with him some of the yellow sand. These loads, arriving at an oasis he applies tc the erection of a great castle, which was constructed artistically out of that stone and surrounded with the yellow earth. "The building," says Nizami, "ha: already killed many a traveller, who, finding nc THE ALEXANDER-BOOK. 213 entrance, has climbed the walls, and through the operation of the stone has been precipitated to the bottom and died." This fabulous castle appears to have played a great part at that time in the Oriental Sagas. From a pseudo-Aristotelian treati^.c upon stones, Kasvini brings details about the wonderful stones and the city built of it by Alexander is called by him the Brazen City, and has found a place also in the geographical portion of his work, where he gives several detailed descriptions of it, excusing himself in the following terms : " The Brazen City has a wonderful history running counter to what is usual ; but I saw that many recorded it in their works, and so I have noted it also." Especially interesting is the narrative adduced about it . how Musa, the lieutenant of Africa, is sent by the Omiad Abdalmalik to search out that wonderful city, reaches it also, experiences much that is noteworthy, and reports the whole in a literally quoted letter to the Khahf Verses also in the Himyarishan character, which were to be read on the walls, are cited, according to which King Solomon appears as a builder, as well as how such a view is brought forward. Then follows a six-months' journey through the desert, at the termination of which Alexander ac- complishes his wish to search out the never yet seen sources of the Nile. After a long march over mountain and valley, he came at last to a steeply ascending mountain, in colour resembling "green 214 NIZAMI. glass," from which flows down the river Nile. Ol the people sent up thither not one came back. At last a man is despatched, accompanied by his son, with orders that, arrived at the summit, he should write what he had seen, and throw down the billet to his son, who is to wait for him below. The son returns without his father, but with the following descrip- tion (/. 113): He gave to the King the paper, and the King read wriuen thereon . " From the toilsomeness of the way, My soul fainted within me from terror, For I seemed to be treading the road to Hell. The path was contracted to a hair's-breadth, And whoever trod it washed his hands of life. For in this path, which was slender as a hair, There appeared no means of again coming do\\'n. When I arrived at the rocky mound of the summit, I was in an utter strait from the straitness of the way. All that I beheld on the side which I had seen tore my heart to pieces, And my judgment was annihilated by its perilous aspect. But on the other side the way was without a blemish. Delight upon delight, garden upon garden. Full of fruit, and verdure, and water, and roses ; The whole region resounding with the melody of birds, The air soft, and the landscape so charming. That you might say, God had granted its every wish. On this side all was life and beauty, On the other side all was disturbance and ruin ; Here was Paradise, there the semblance of Hell — Who would come to Hell and desert Paradise ? Think of that desert through which we wended, Look whence we came, and at what we have arrived ! THE ALEXANDER-BOOK. 215 Who would have the heart from this lovely spot Again to set a foot in that intricate track ? Here I remain, King, and bid thee adieu ; And mayst thou too be happy as I am happy ! " Alexander conceals from the army this enticing description, and hurries forward. After passing with the utmost difficulty a fresh desert, the wild beasts of which, however, ventured nothing against him, he reached the miraculous Garden of Irim, planted with golden trees from " which Shedad had obtained throne and crown.'' The magnificence of this garden, with the golden fruits and jewels which ornamented its trees, as well as that of the pool with its fishes of pure onyx, is described, as well as the palace, into which Alexander enters, and which is furnished in the like noble manner. In the midst of this he saw a splendid grave-vault with a hyacinthine tablet, the inscription on which, Shedad's lament over the transitory nature of human greatness, moves the King to tears. He hurries away from the neighbourhood without taking away with him the smallest article of these rich treasures (//. 114-115). The next journey leads him through a wilderness, in which they meet with a "horde of wild beasts in human form," who live in caves, know nothing of fire, and live only by catching fish. The sun by day serves them for fire, the night-dew affords them a refreshing drink. Alexander inquires of them about other dwellers in the deserts also, and learns from them that there are those who are still more 2i6 NIZAMI. uncivilised and unsociable. Then they gave him information of other dwellers in the wilderness, beyond its circuit and boundaries (/. ii8) : Then to his questions replied that crew : " Much have we traversed plain and mountain ; Like deer have we run for months and years, Yet never have we reached the bounds of this desert. But other inhabitants of the desert have we seen, And of them we have asl