%# 
 
 
^^/^'^ 
 
■■"^ ', "BIN*-"' ""■".;- i«f.vap^ '•wv 
 
 The date shows when this voluihe was taken. 
 
 1*1 n 
 
 5 S'li-' 
 
 ■'■i\] 
 
 04. 
 
 '^^~~^WWS' 
 
 v ,- 
 
 Sfeli 
 
 M\ 
 
 All bool:.s not in use 
 for instruction or re- 
 search are limited to 
 .^1 all borrOTyers. 
 
 Volumes of periodi- 
 cals and of pamphlets 
 comprise so many sub- 
 jects, that they are held 
 ^ the library as much 
 ' ?s possible. For spe- 
 iiial purposes they are 
 given out for a limited 
 time. 
 
 Graduates and sen- 
 iors are allowed fiv^ 
 volumes for two weeks. 
 Other students may 
 have two vols, flrom the 
 circulating library for 
 two weeks. 
 
 Books not needed 
 during recess periods / 
 should be returned to 
 the library f or arrange- 
 ments mad^ for their 
 return during borrow- 
 er's absence, if wanted. 
 
 Books needed by 
 more than one person : 
 are held on the reserve 
 list. 
 
 Books of special 
 value and gift books, 
 when the giver wishes 
 it, are not allowed to 
 circulate. 
 
 Lt-i.'t-BjAg-a'ca 
 
 Cornell University Library 
 PK 6541.B2A75 1893 
 
 With Sa'di in the garden 
 
PK 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis bool< is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924026911911 
 
WITH SA'DI IN THE GAEDEN 
 
 THE BOOK OF LOVE 
 
With Sa'dI in the Garden 
 
 Zbe BooFi of %ow 
 
 BEING 
 
 TH£ ■■ ISHK" OR THIRD CHAPTER OF THE ■• b6stAn" 
 OF THE PERSIAN POET SA'DI 
 
 ffimboiieS in a IBtalogue ^itXa in tfjB ffiaritn of tfje 
 ;l, at 
 
 BY 
 
 SIR EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I.E., C.S.I. 
 
 AUTHOR OF " THE I-IGHT OF ASIA," ETC. ETC. 
 
 FOURTH EDITION 
 
 LONDON 
 KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER, & CO. U° 
 
 PATERNOSTER HOUSE, CHARING CROSS ROAD 
 1893 
 
A- ^7^6,3 
 
 The rights of translation and of repi-oduction are reserved. 
 
THIS VOLUME IS 
 
 2)e&lcatc£) 
 
 TO 
 
 THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF DUFFERIN, K.P. 
 
 ETC. 
 
 Viceroy and Governor- Qena-al of India 
 
 WITH 
 
 THE AUTHOE'S RESPECT, ADMIEATION, AND ATTACHMENT 
 
[Note. — The sections in this poem taken directly from the Persian 
 are printed in italics, and present the third chapter of the 
 B6st^n. nearly as it stands in the text of Sa'di. The bulk of 
 the poem is original, though some passages imitate the Persian 
 manner. Utmost acknowledgments are due to the prose trans- 
 lation of "The Garden," by Capt. H. Wilberforce Clarke, E.E., 
 one of the very best and most faithful ever made from an 
 Oriental classic. Those familiar with Persian literature will 
 be aware of certain necessary modifications. The accomplished 
 singing-girls are types from the life.] 
 
Iproeme. 
 
 Stveet Friends ! who love the Music of the Sun, 
 And listened — glad and gracious — many an one, 
 While, on a light-strung lyre, I sought to tell 
 Indian Siddartha's wisdom ; and the spell 
 Ofjayadev's deep verse; and proud deeds wrought 
 By Pandu Princes ; and how gems are fraught 
 With meanings ; and to count each golden bead 
 Of Allah's names of Beauty ; and to read 
 High tender lessons Upanishads teach — 
 " Secret of Death," and subtle soul of speech 
 In holy OM ; and to con — line by line — 
 The lofty glory of the "Lay Divine" — 
 Arjuna's speech wtth Krishna : — once more come. 
 And listen to the Vina and the Drum ! 
 
ii PEOEME. 
 
 Come once more with me from our sombre skies 
 
 To hear great Sa'di's tuneful mysteries — 
 
 " Nightingale of a thousand lays "—for he 
 
 Will, ''mid the Garden, sing in many a key 
 
 Rare Persian airs. But, tell fheni first, my Song 1- 
 
 Lest they do thee, and me, and Sa'di wrong — 
 
 To come with hearts to gentle thoughts inclined, 
 
 Since this is only for the wise and kind; 
 
 And, of itself, our Garden shuts its gate 
 
 On him thafs hard, cold, uncompasstonate ; 
 
 But opens wide its alleys, green and still. 
 
 To Sesame of Love and fair Good-will ! 
 
 Schooner Yacht " Hadassah" off Portland, 
 July 12, i88S. 
 
WITH SA'DI IN THE GAEDEN 
 
 THE BOOK OF LOVE 
 
WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN; 
 
 OE, 
 
 THE BOOK OF LOVE. 
 
 5ntroDuctfon. 
 
 At Agra we liad seen the Oity-siglits, 
 The Fort, the Mosques, the busy hot bazaars ; 
 Akbar's red bulwarks, — shutting treasures in 
 With league-long ramp of sandstone,— Hathi Pul, 
 The Bathing-House of Mirrors, Ghuznee's Gates, 
 Diwan-i-Khas, Diwan-i-Am, the Court 
 Of Jasmine, Machi Bhawun, and that gem 
 Of holy places named the " House of Pearl " — 
 Moti-Musjid, where Archangels might pray 
 And miss no grace of Heaven, no purity ! — 
 Under the zigzagged cream and rosy roof 
 Of J§,h^n§,ra's Mosque our unshod feet 
 
WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Had lingered, mid tbe Muslim worshippers ; 
 To Itimad-ud-Dowlat's sepulchre- 
 By will of Nourmahal, " Light of the world," 
 Upreared and carved — we had made pilgrimage ; 
 And, at Sikandra, to great Akbar's tomb ; 
 And once, and twice, and thrice, to Taj-Mahal. 
 
 Ah, the white wonder ! Have there been who came 
 And gazed, — and laid staff and surveying chain 
 Along thy sacred sides. Fairest of fanes ! 
 To turn away, saying, " The plan errs thus, 
 The plinth lacks this, the arch was ill-conceived ; 
 'Tis but a cube of stone with angles lopped. 
 Much seems yet needed to the architraves ! 
 The lattice gives no light, the casing-stones 
 Are mere veneer ? " Measurers parcel-blind 
 Who, with yard-rule would count the inches off 
 Prom Aphrodite's Parian majesty, 
 And stretch tape o'er Elysian asphodel ! 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 3 
 
 He hath not eyes to see whose eyes have seen 
 
 That glory of the beauty of the Taj, 
 
 Nor knew and felt — at seeing — how man's hand 
 
 Comes nearest God's herein, touching His charm 
 
 Of rounded silvery clouds in that poised Dome 
 
 Which hangs between the sky's blue and the stream's — 
 
 Fixing the fleeting structures of His snow 
 
 In those piled pilasters and stainless flats 
 
 Which mount and mount — delicate, drifted, still ; — 
 
 Simple, yet subtle, as the curves and shades 
 
 Of the white breasts of her it celebrates, 
 
 Arjamand Banu, Queen of Love and Death : 
 
 A passion, and a worship, and a faith 
 
 Writ fast in alabaster, so that Earth 
 
 Hath nothing anywhere of mortal toil 
 
 So flne-wrought, so consummate, so supreme — 
 
 So, beyond praise. Love's loveliest monument — 
 
 As what in Agra, upon Jumna's bank. 
 
 Shah Jahan builded for his Lady's grave. 
 
WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN; 
 
 Oh, friends ! verse is too bold seeking to tell 
 How beautiful this Eastern Tomb doth rise, 
 How fair by sun or moonlight, how superb 
 This house of Love and Death — all lily-white 
 In the green garden upon Jumna's shore ! 
 The City, swarming past the River's bend, 
 Wafts no noise here ; far off you may discern 
 The bridge of boats, the Fort's red wall, the Domes — 
 Three pearly foam-bells — of the Mosque of Pearl 
 Suspended o'er those distant parapets ; 
 Eam-Bagh ; the tall palm-groves by Akbar's grave ; 
 And Al-cbar's judgment- terrace. Here the stream — 
 Yamuna, silver daughter of the Sun — 
 Glides broad and silent, washing sandy flats 
 And ancient water-gates. By avenues 
 Of neem and palsa ; past low huts of mat, 
 Gay painted country-dwellings, topes, and wells, 
 Temples, and little shrines where gilded gods 
 Squat with crossed legs — Balkrishna, Hanuman ; 
 
OR, THE BOOK OP LOVE. 
 
 By p§,n and bangle shops, by weaving-grounds, 
 By creaking Persian wheels, rice-fields, and tanks 
 Winds the cantonment-way, made populous 
 With tread of patient feet, which come and go 
 Doing the errands of their placid day. 
 You meet the brown-limbed laden coolie girls, 
 The ekkas with full freight of pots and wives, 
 The camels stalking slow, the palanquins. 
 The belted peon, the sweetmeat-man, the ox 
 Grave-pacing with his spirting water-skins ; 
 The spangled dancing-girls, the fishermen, 
 Byragis, sepoys, hamals, jungle-folk. 
 The people of an Agra afternoon : 
 When, suddenly, — wheels stop, bridles are drawn. 
 One cries, " The Taj ! " We are at entrance gate 
 Of India's pride, the Tomb, the House of Eest 
 For Mumtaz-i-Mahal, the "Exalted one" — 
 Queen of her Sultan's heart, and Hindostan— 
 Here by her Lord and Lover laid to sleep. 
 
WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 And here, too, sleeps the stately King who planned 
 This splendour for his sorrow — Shah Jahan — 
 Twelve score years back Sultan of India, 
 Euler august, and sire of Aurangzebe. 
 
 First a proud Archway, reared of rosy stone 
 Banded with marble ; and a frontal wall 
 Crowned by low cupolas. The demi-vault 
 Of entry towers aloft, framing huge space 
 Of azure heaven, broad- groined with span and rib 
 In marbles brown and white ; and, all the bands, 
 String-courses, cornices, range thick-inlaid 
 With scriptures from the Holy Book, tall scrolls 
 Writ in commanding Toghra — Alif, Lam, 
 Ghain, and their solemn sister characters, 
 Marching with step severe, and measured sweep, 
 Mim, Nun, and Waw and Sin, made ornaments 
 To deck the door, and issue doctrines true : 
 " No God save God ! In name of God the One ! " 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 
 
 Along the spandrels ; on the coping-stones 
 Tender deep things from Sura sixty-seven — 
 The " Chapter of the Kingdom " — blazoning 
 " Blessed is He that hath the Kingdom ! He 
 Made Life and Death to prove ye ; and He made 
 The seven spheres of Heaven— each by each ; 
 Say he is God the Merciful ! " and, then, 
 " Only the pure of heart enter the gates, 
 Enter God's Garden ! " 
 
 See ! that might be this, 
 If Paradise had portals like Jahan's ! 
 For, through the vaulted door, opens to sight 
 A glorious garden — green, for ever green, 
 Since hither comes no harsh nor biting time 
 To strip the buds, but, all the warm year through. 
 The palms rise feathered, and the pipal- boughs 
 Whisper men's doings to the listening Gods 
 With watchful leaves ; citrons and rose- apples 
 
WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Keep their bright blossoms and their jewelled fruits, 
 
 And broad bananas flaunt their silken flags. 
 
 The spacious Pleasaunce shows on either hand 
 
 Dark verdant banks of various foliage — 
 
 Cooling the eyes, and quieting the heart — 
 
 With parterres interspersed, and rose-thickets, 
 
 And sheets of fiery Indian marigolds, 
 
 Moon-flowers, and shell-flowers ; crimson panoply 
 
 Of the silk-cottons, and soft lilac light 
 
 Where sunbeams sift through Bougainvilliers : 
 
 Pink oleander- sprays you mark, fig-blooms. 
 
 Stars of the champak, tulip-cups, and spikes 
 
 Of silver-studded aloes, with red gold 
 
 Of peacock-bushes, and fair deadly bells 
 
 Of white datura. What most holds the eye, 
 
 Leading it onward towards the sight of sights, 
 
 Is yon black avenue of thuja-trees 
 
 With cypress intermixed, ranged, all the way, 
 
 On either border of the broad-paved path, 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 
 
 Like sentinels of honour. Trom the gate 
 
 Straight to the threshold of the Taj-Mahal 
 
 Those trees of mourning marshal you ! Between 
 
 Gleams the paved way, laid smooth in slabs of white 
 
 Eiver-like running through the banks of green ; 
 
 And, on this middle pavement — all its length — 
 
 Wan water lies entanked, its crystal face 
 
 Rippled with gliding fish, and lotus-leaves 
 
 By the wind rocked, and rain of fountain-drops ; 
 
 For — all its length — ^jets of thin silver dart 
 
 Into the Blue, and sparkle back to the Blue 
 
 Reflected in those marble-margined pools. 
 
 Led thus by sombre cypresses, and lines 
 
 Of dancing water-jets, and lilied tanks, 
 
 And glistering garden-causeway, the gaze lights 
 
 On that great Tomb, rising prodigious, still, 
 
 Matchless, perfect in form, a miracle 
 
 Of grace, and tenderness, and symmetry. 
 
 Pearl-pure against the sapphire of the sky ! 
 
lo WITH SA'DI IN THE GAEDEN ; 
 
 Enclianted, tlie foot follows tlie fixed gaze, 
 Whicli marks no more the garden's wealth, the 
 
 pools, 
 The tall, dark sentry-trees, the shining path, 
 The enlaced and rustling bamboos, the plumed palms 
 With doves and sun-birds in their swinging crowns ; 
 Only it dwells on that strange shape of grace 
 
 Instinct with loveliness — not masonry ! 
 
 Not architecture ! as all others are. 
 
 But the proud passion of an Emperor's love 
 
 Wrought into living stone, which gleams and soars 
 
 With body of beauty shrining soul and thought, 
 
 Insomuch that it haps as when some face 
 
 Divinely fair unveils before our eyes — 
 
 Some woman beautiful unspeakably— 
 
 And the blood quickens, and the spirit leaps, 
 
 And will to worship bends the half-yielded knees, 
 
 While breath forgets to breathe : so is the Taj ; 
 
 You see it with the heart, before the eyes 
 
OE, THE BOOK OF LOVE. ii 
 
 Have scope to gaze. All white! snow-wliite ! cloud- 
 white ! 
 Like a white rounded cloud seems that smooth dome 
 Seated so stately mid its sister-domes, 
 Waxing to waist, and waning to wan brow ; 
 White, too, the minarets, like ivory towers,^ — 
 Four tall Court ladies tending their Princess — 
 Set at the four shorn corners. Near and far 
 The garden clasps the Sanctuary in folds 
 Of rounded verdure ; on its right and left 
 Rise two fair Musjids, Ohapels of the shrine, 
 Themselves in other spot majestical : 
 The one which looks to Mecca is for prayer, 
 This other, the Juwab — for symmetry — 
 Offers a resting-house where men may sit 
 And hear the Bulbul singing to the Rose, 
 And talk of Arjamand, and Love and Death. 
 Behind the glorious Tomb a court, a wall, 
 A bank which drops to Jumna, and, beyond — • 
 
. WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Over the Eiver, where her Emperor died — 
 Brind^ban, and a hundred leagues of plain. 
 
 Hushed, you advance — your gaze still fixed! heart, 
 
 soul 
 Full of the Wonder ; drinking in its spell 
 Of purity and mystery, its poise 
 Magical, weird, aerial ; the ghost 
 Of Thought draped white — as if that Sultan's sigh 
 Had lived in issuing from his love and grief 
 Immense, and taken huge embodiment 
 Which one rash word might change from Tomb to 
 
 Cloud. 
 But mount the first great platform — sandstone, red, 
 A thousand feet each way — and, coming nigh. 
 You shall perceive the sovereignty of this 
 Which utmost loveliness did somewhile hide. 
 Now grows the mighty greatness of the Taj 
 Plainer ! 'tis eighty feet of marble snow 
 
OE, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 13 
 
 From the embroidered fillet of yon Dome 
 
 To its gold Crownal, glittering in the sky 
 
 A hundred " yards of Akbar " from the ground. 
 
 Under that Saracenic entry-arch 
 
 These palms might grow, nor brush a topmost plume 
 
 Against the key-stone. Hence, too, shall you see 
 
 As if the Empress' self drew near, and near, 
 
 Till her blue veins showed, and her brows, and gems, 
 
 How opulent the unsullied marble spreads 
 
 With ornament, how decked with precious work 
 
 Of scroll and spray, volute and chasery, 
 
 And grave texts written clear in black and red 
 
 Inlaid upon the white ; not marring it 
 
 More than those blue veins mar a lady's neck ; 
 
 More than her pencillings of lash and brow 
 
 Break totalness' of spotless skin and limb. 
 
 Mount, now, this second stair, arriving so 
 On upper platform, paved with marble pale. 
 
14 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Eacli way three hundred feet. Here stands the 
 
 Taj! 
 This is the snowy table-land wherefrom 
 Rises the House of snow, mountainous, pure, 
 As any topmost peak of Himalay ! 
 A massy square ; the angles shorn ; each face 
 Pierced with a vaulted entrance, parted off 
 From too keen worship of the Sun — who loves 
 Arjamand's bed — from too direct a ray 
 Of Indian moonlight, by those panelled doors 
 Of lace-cut alabaster. Nearer draw 
 And note their wondrous toil — the white rock wrought 
 To exquisite, entangled, tracery 
 Intricate-patterned ; knit, like midnight dreams 
 Of some geometer, in governed curves 
 Oissoid, parabola, and lemniscate, 
 Ehombus, and rhomboid, cirque, trapezium. 
 Each absolute, if eye shall follow them ; 
 Strong as cast steel, but delicate as veil 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 15 
 
 Of filmy web from Dacca's patient loom 
 
 Ten folds whereof left Akbar's daughter bare, 
 
 So that the Mogul cried : " Oom'st thou unclad ? " 
 
 Thus, by a hundred marble lattices 
 
 Passes the daylight to their place of rest, 
 
 Shorn of its glare ; but you — before you pass — 
 
 Note, too, this diaper- work of branch and leaf 
 
 On door-post, lintel, and long cornices ; 
 
 And how the black embroidering lines and texts. 
 
 Strict-marshalled from the Arab alphabet, 
 
 Serve the broad beauty of the pearly walls 
 
 For softening shadows, how the Finial — 
 
 Pointing with gold the moon-round cupola — 
 
 Crowns with thin crescent its fair-lifted swell ; 
 
 How — near approached — faint stains and wandering 
 
 veins 
 Show on the marble — azure, safiTron, rose — 
 So that it hath not coldness, like to snow. 
 But in large purity takes, glad, the sun. 
 
1 6 WITH SA'DI m THE GARDEN ; 
 
 And answers him with tender tint and glow, 
 As if the milky marble lived, indeed. 
 
 Ton enter, reverent : — for a Queen is here, 
 And the dead King who loved her ; and Death's self 
 Who ends all — and begins all ; and Love's might 
 Which greater is than Death, and heeds him not. 
 White ! white ! tenderly, softly, white — around, 
 Above, beneath — save that the praying floor 
 Is laid in dark squares, and the architrave 
 Euns comely with adornings staid, and script 
 Of Toghra test. See ! read ! " His Majesty, 
 Shadow of God, Miljiahid of the age, 
 Built this for Resting-Place of Arjamand." 
 And, elsewhere: — " Jesus said {on, Whom he peace !) 
 This tvorld a Bridge is ; pass thou over it, 
 But huild no House of Hope there." And, again, 
 The Fatihah — " In the name of God 7nost High 
 The Clement, the Compassionate ! " Four tombs 
 
OE, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 17 
 
 Of Princes and Princesses — kindred bones — 
 
 Surround the shrine ; here, in the heart of all, 
 
 With chapels girdled, shut apart by screens, 
 
 The shrine's self stands. White, delicately white ! 
 
 White as the cheek of Mumtaz-i-Mahal 
 
 When Shah Jahan let fall a king's tear there, — 
 
 White as the breast her new babe vainly pressed 
 
 That ill day in the camp at Burhanpur, 
 
 The fair shrine stands, guarding two Cenotaphs : 
 
 For, when the Trumpet of Serafil blows, 
 
 They shall not rise herefrom ; their happy dust 
 
 Sleeps in one earth beneath, where two plain 
 
 stones. 
 Hers in the midst, and his — raised half a span 
 (For lordliness of sex and Empery) 
 But close beside it — mark their very graves. 
 This is but record of them, two Death-Ohests 
 O'er-flowered upon white marble with bright sprays 
 And coloured buds and blooms, posies of Death 
 
3 WITH SA'DI IN THE GAEDEN; 
 
 Softly enamelled : on the Emperor's bier 
 The Kalamd^n, noting a Mussulman 
 Dead in the Faith ; on hers verses in black 
 Praising the name of Allah, and her name, 
 And when she lived and died — of all that time 
 The Glory, and the Cynosure, and Pearl. 
 
 All which rare work is over-canopied 
 With vaulted inner roof of milk-white blocks 
 Contracting, tier by tier, — till, far above, 
 A cap-stone shuts the canopy, so high 
 Those letters of the " Throne verse " cubit-long 
 Show like the little writing on a gem. 
 And, ever, in the womb of that white roof, 
 Echoes sigh round and round, low murmurings. 
 Voices aerial, by a word evoked — 
 A foot-fall. Yet it will not render back 
 111 noises, or a rude and scurril sound : 
 But if some woman's lips and gentle breath 
 
OB, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 19 
 
 Utter a strain, if some soft bar be played, 
 
 Some verse of hymn, or Indian love-lament, 
 
 Or chord of Seventh, the white walls listen close, 
 
 And take that music, and say note for note 
 
 Softly again ; and then — echoing themselves — 
 
 Eeverberate their melting antiphones, 
 
 Low waves of harmony encountering waves 
 
 And rippling on the rounded milky shores, 
 
 And making wavelets of new harmonies. 
 
 Thus — fainter, fainter — higher, higher — sighing 
 
 The music dieth upwards ; but so sweet, 
 
 So fine and far, and lingering at the last. 
 
 You cannot tell when Silence comes : the air, 
 
 Peopled by hovering Angels, still seems full 
 
 With stir celestial, with foldings down 
 
 Of pinions ; and those heavenly parting notes 
 
 As tender, as if great Isr^fil's self — 
 
 Who hath the sweetest voice in all God's worlds — 
 
 Still whispered o'er the tomb of Arjamand ! 
 
3 WITH SA'Dl IN THE GARDEN; 
 
 The milk-wiiite marvel of this inner shrine 
 Is carved in Jali-work of tracery — 
 One panel of the tracery a slab 
 Five cubits every way, fretted and pierced 
 To marble gauze — so that the sunbeams, dimmed, 
 Steal, like gold twilight, to their mighty names 
 And show them well-nigh as if whispering them. 
 But yet a greater wonder ! for its sides — 
 Where the wan stone spreads whole — holds inlaid wealth 
 Of fair delicious fancies, wreath and sprig, 
 Blown tulip, and closed rose, lilies and vines, 
 All done in cunning finished jewellery 
 Of precious gems — jasper and lazulite, 
 Sardonyx, onyx, blood-stone, golden-stone, 
 Carnelian, jade, crystal, and chalcedony, 
 Turkis, and agate ; and the berries and fruits 
 Heightened with coral-points and nacre-lights 
 (One single spray set here with five-score stones) 
 So that this place of death is made a bower 
 
OE, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 
 
 With beauteous grace of blossoms over-spread ; 
 And she who loved her garden, lieth now 
 Lapped in a garden. 
 
 And all this for Love ! 
 The marbles were Mukrani — Jeypore's best — 
 Brought seventy koss in creaking cattle-wains ; 
 The sand-stone Puttehpur's; the jewels came 
 Over a hundred wastes, a thousand hills, 
 By camel-caravan, ten thousand bales. 
 From Balkh, Iran, and far-off Khoras^n. 
 Three crores our Emperor lavished on his Taj ; 
 Two lakhs of workmen toiled for seventeen years 
 Accomplishing the Death-Place of his Queen : 
 And, all for Love ! Dying at Burhanpur 
 She spake to him : " Oh, Sultan of the Age ! 
 Life of my Soul ! who lov'd'st me so ; and knowest 
 How well I loved ! now pass I — ^leaving thee 
 Last babe and latest kiss. Let all the world 
 
2 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Know thy great love and mine ; and build for me 
 For Mumtaz dead — thy Persian wife — a Tomb 
 Which Earth shall marvel at, and all men laud, 
 Extolling thee, and not forgetting me." 
 And Jahan cried : " Tea ! but by God the Truth ! 
 This thing shall be ; the world shall know of thee ; 
 Thou shalt have such a tomb ! " Whereon she died 
 In child-bed — after fifteen wedded years — 
 And Shah Jahan builded the Taj Mahal. 
 
 I have two pictures of Queen Arjamand 
 In the Persian manner. Oh, a lady fair ! 
 Everywhere beautiful, and born for love ; 
 A face to win worship of hearts, once seen. 
 No vain voluptuous Odalisque, with orbs 
 Set bold under low brow, but kind, but good, 
 More woman than Sultana ; yet with air 
 Of majesty, as fitted great Princess ; 
 And in her high-bred nostrils, habit of rule. 
 
OE, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 23 
 
 Complexion like the shell of ostrich-egg, 
 
 A tinted ivory ; hair midnight black, 
 
 Braided in seven bright tresses ; dark brown eyes 
 
 Splendidly lambent under eye-brows arched 
 
 Like edge of swallow's wing ; — love-lighted eyes 
 
 Curtained with long, fine, sweeping eyelashes ; 
 
 Cheeks hardly touched by palest rose-colour ; 
 
 Chin delicately moulded; sweetest mouth 
 
 Flower-soft and sensitive, with curves to make 
 
 The smile divine — a mouth of rose and pearl — 
 
 Mouth to give orders to an Emperor : 
 
 The neck an alabaster pillar ; hands 
 
 Perfect and small ; but stained upon the palms 
 
 With henna's russet-red, the Persian way. 
 
 Holding a blossom of the pomegranate 
 
 Flower of true Faith ! Upon the proud smooth head 
 
 A Persian cap of state sewn thick with pearls ; 
 
 Necklet and ear-rings pearl ; a ruby clasps 
 
 The scarlet silken choli laced with gold 
 
24 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Binding her high-girt breasts ; a shawl of blue 
 Sits on her comely shoulders, stiff with gold, 
 Letting a dagger's jewelled handle peer; 
 And cloth of gold, clasping a slender waist, 
 Droops to the feet, slippered in silver, gemmed. 
 Arjamand Banu Begam — such she was. 
 
 Why tell all this ? That you may know the Queen 
 They buried ; and the beauteous burying-place 
 Where, that last day at Agra, certain ones 
 Sate in the left-hand Mosque, surnamed Juwab, 
 And heard, in shadow of her sepulchre, 
 Sa'di's deep Chapter touching Love and Death. 
 For said the Munshi, " Tis full moon to-night ! 
 What if you once more view the Taj thereby ? " — 
 Good Mirza Hussein he, Muslim — and more — 
 Sufi, far seen in deep philosophies, 
 Who knew grave secrets hid in subtle verse 
 Of Hafiz — underneath that merry veil 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 25 
 
 Of " Taverns," " Wine-cups," and the " Magian Boy "— 
 
 Knew Ishk, and teachings of Tusawwuf, knew 
 
 Haklkat, Tariyat — as darkly shews 
 
 Gulshan-i-Eaz, the " Mystic Rose Garden ; " 
 
 A wise, and well-esteemed, and courteous Sage ; 
 
 And he, the Saheb — my life-long friend — replied 
 
 Smilingly : " Excellent ! if you would read 
 
 Sa'di's third chapter of the Boston there 
 
 That ' Ishk ' which sings of Love — you who can make 
 
 The Persian plain to us ; since, good it were 
 
 To hear the tender couplets Mumtaz heard 
 
 There, in her Pleasaunce, by her Sepulchre ; 
 
 And speak of Love, and what it is, and how, 
 
 And whither it should lead us, and God's will 
 
 Fashioning Beauty so to seize and sway 
 
 By grace so great ; and these strange hearts of men 
 
 To passion for it, even to folly and death, 
 
 To mourn it with such splendour sorrowful 
 
 As yon white lordly anguish of the Taj. 
 
26 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Bring the scrolls, Mirza ! and the reading-stool, 
 And Gulbadan, that Delhi girl, who sings 
 Ghazals so well, and Dilaz^r, her mate, 
 Who plays bandoora, and knows dance and song. 
 Ask them to come ; say there'll be fruits and cakes 
 With golden mohurs; and meet me at the gate. 
 The Taj shall be Shiraz, and we will sit 
 In its green garden, underneath the moon 
 To read the ' Ishk ' and hear the nightingales 
 Make music to the Rose in our Bostan." 
 
 " Inshallah ! " Mirza Hussein said : " Please God ! 
 This will be so. Sa'di hath much to teach. 
 And Gulbadan shall bring her waiting-girl 
 With lamps and bells, and summon Dilazar. 
 At night-fall we will come," 
 
 Thus it befell 
 Those five were gathered at the Mosque Juwab 
 
OR, THE BOOK OP LOVE. 27 
 
 By dusk :— the Mirza ; gentle Gubaldan 
 
 Tlie Persian singer, with the melting voice ; 
 
 Dark Dilazlr, handsome, and bold, and skilled 
 
 To play for every song and step ; the maid 
 
 Attending them ; and last, that Englishman, 
 
 That Saheb I knew, lover of India. 
 
 Too much her lover ! for his heart lived there 
 
 How far soever wandered thence his feet. 
 
 Some said — amongst the Buddhists — he had dwelled 
 
 Of old in Indian towns, and was re-born 
 
 In cold, hard, unbelieving Frangestan 
 
 Outcast, for ancient faults to expiate ; 
 
 Some, that in days of the great mutiny. 
 
 The dark Mahratta maidens laid the spell 
 
 Of love and hidden teachings on his soul ; 
 
 Some that he dreamed the West and East would meet 
 
 On some far day, by some fresh-opened path, 
 
 In sisterly new Truths, and strove for that : 
 
 I think he did but find Wisdom's wide stream 
 
28 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Nearest the fountain clearest, India's air 
 Softer and warmer than his native skies ; 
 And liked the gentle speech, the grave reserve, 
 The piety and quiet of the land, 
 Its old-world manners, and its reverent ways, 
 And kind simplicity of Indian homes. 
 And classic comeliness of Indian girls 
 More than his proper people, and his tasks. 
 He was to blame, but he loved India. 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 29 
 
 Sn tbe 6ar6en of tbe Zaj. 
 
 " Speead, Khadim ! " quoth tlie Mirza, " by this wall 
 The mats and cushions ; trim the copper lamp, 
 Set forth the fruit and cakes where Gulbadan 
 May keep her lips from too much idleness ; 
 Bring Dilaz^r's tamboora ! see no snake 
 Hath crept among the carpets ; dg lejao ! 
 To light the kallians for the Saheb and me : 
 And let none trouble us ! " The garden-guard 
 Obeyed with "AchcJia ! achcha ! " tied their gift 
 Into the corner of his cloth ; salaamed, 
 And left them to the mosque-floor, and the scroll, 
 The tomb, the still trees, and the Indian night. 
 
30 WITH SA'DI IN THE GAEDEN ; 
 
 Saheb. Now, Gulbadan ! — while Mirza Hussein seeks 
 His starting-place in this old Persian book 
 Where our dead Poet keeps melodious grave — 
 Sing some light strain to tell the nightingales 
 We and the Koses watch ! Dilazar's hand 
 Has strung tamboora's strings to key of — ■ 
 Three wires of steel and one of brass, all stretched 
 Ready for every lovely lay you know — 
 We will begin with music. 
 
 Gulbadan. Will this please 
 
 The ear, I wonder, of my English lord ? 
 Dilaz§,r knows the gbazal, and it seems 
 Made for our garden, named " Shirin, Shirin." 
 
 Therewith she stooped, to touch, upon her feet 
 The peal of silver bells which tinkled there ; 
 Murmuring the little prayer that singing girls 
 Make, before lifting voice or fingering string. 
 
OE, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 31 
 
 To Pir, or Guardian-Saint : — such pious ways 
 Have these whom many scorn ! And then she sang : 
 
 [GuLBADAN sings.] 
 
 A Lover said : " For one touch of her hand 
 I would give Balkh, I would give Samarkand, 
 So sweet she is ! " the Bulbul sang between 
 " Kose of rare Sweetnesses ! Shirtn, Shirin ! " 
 
 The Sultan heard : " By Allah ! this is much ! 
 Two cities which my sword gained, for one touch ! 
 How rich he seems ! " the Bulbul sang between 
 " Rose of rich Sweetnesses ! Shirin, Shirin ! " 
 
 The Lover said : " When I may kiss her feet 
 I am so happy that all life grows sweet.'' 
 The Sultan mused : the Bulbul sang between 
 " Eose of blown happiness ! Shirin, Shirin ! " 
 
 " Oh ! Rose," the Sultan said, " but, hast thou heard 
 This Lover's boasting, and thine answering bird ? " 
 
32 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 The Eose blushed while she sighed : " It is well seen ! 
 Love is enough ! Shirin, shirintarin I " 
 
 " Oh, Sultan ! " said the Nightingale, " I die 
 Pierced by the thorn, yet, glad at heart am I ! 
 Sweet, ever sweeter, sweetest. Love hath been, 
 Shirin, shirintar, and shirintarin ! " * 
 
 " Oh, Eose and Nightingale ! " the Sultan said, 
 " There shall be raised a white shrine to the Dead ; 
 Where Love shall have — in garden fair and green — 
 His endless song, Shirin, shirintarin ! " 
 
 Shahash ! we cried. By this the Mirza's nose 
 Bestrid with glasses, hung above the script : 
 His finger with the Meccan turquoise-ring 
 Guiding those mild worn eyes along the page. 
 Staid he commenced : 
 MiEZA. This volume of our Lord, 
 
 The Shaikh Muslihu-d-din Shirazi, named 
 Sa'di, (may rain of Allah's mercy fall 
 
 * Persian for " Sweet, sweeter, sweetest." 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 33 
 
 Ever upon his grave ! ) the great Bost§,n, 
 
 Openeth full nobly, having entrance-porch 
 
 Like to yon stately doorway of the Taj, 
 
 Eeared of fair stones, and rich with pious verse — 
 
 Wherein he telleth us of heavenly things, 
 
 And ways of Allah (be His rule extolled !) 
 
 This will I read, and, afterwards the Ishk : 
 
 Bi nama e Khudd, so it preludeth. 
 
 The Gateway of the Garden of our Lord. 
 
 \_The MiRZA reads.] 
 
 IN NAME OF GOD ! Who maJceth life to live ; 
 Of God All-wise, Who s'peech to tongue did give ; 
 
 Of God most Bountiful, Whose hand upholdeth, 
 Whose mercy doth th' offender's plea receive ; 
 
 KING OF ALL KINGS, at Whose wide Palace-door 
 Who enters not finds majesty no more ; 
 
34 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 For, in that Court, the stiff-necked Lords of realms 
 Lie loio and crownless on His jpraying-Jloor ! 
 
 He doth not all at once the sinful slay, 
 Nor drive repentant runagates away : 
 
 Albeit an-angered at thy evil doings 
 When thou didst turn He did thy doom unsay. 
 
 Yet, in the ocean of His knowing, tue 
 And all the worlds are hubbies of a sea ; 
 
 He spies a fault, and spares it. If a son 
 Should vex his sire, hard would forgiving be ! 
 
 And if a kinsman with his kin contends. 
 
 He spurns them, calling them no longer friends : 
 
 Nay, and thy slave — grown old and out of use — 
 The past good service no more recommends : 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 35 
 
 When tliose that had thy heart seem no more dear, 
 Better a league away than living near ! 
 
 And if a soldier hreah his hanner-oath 
 The Sultan from the roll his name will tear. 
 
 But He, the Equal Lord of low and high. 
 Doth to no sinful one His grace deny : 
 
 Ever He spreads His Adeem * o'er the Earth, 
 His Tray is full for friend and enemy. 
 
 Yet, had He willed, in way of might, to slay 
 Where liveth foe would he alive this day ? 
 
 Above our hatreds, and unlike our loves 
 He ruleth ! Jinns and men touch not His sway ! 
 
 His Angels order Man and Bird and Beast, 
 The Fish, the Flies, the largest and the least ; 
 
 * A tablecloth of painted leather used by grandees. 
 
36 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 So plenteous is His bounty that the Ant 
 Finds meat, the vast Simurgh * of Kdf can feast ! 
 
 Goodness and gifts diffusing, feeding these, 
 Because He, is creation's Lord, and sees 
 
 All living things ; and Solitude and State 
 Are His ; and His Kingships and Dignities ! 
 
 He sets on this man's head a golden crown, 
 And drags to dust from Umpire that one down ; 
 
 On this man's brow He binds good fortune's turban, 
 And round the other wraps misfortune's gown. 
 
 He makes the flames a Bower of Gulistan 
 For Ibraheem,^ but Farun and his clan 
 
 Hurls down to Hell by water; and both deeds 
 Are good, being the ivord of His Firmdn. 
 
 * A fabulous bird which consumes forty bullocks at a meal, 
 t Alluding to the legend that when Abraham was cast into a furnace 
 by King Nimrtid, Allah changed the fire to a garden of red roses. 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 37 
 
 What's covered He discerns, and what He will 
 He Himself covers of the acts done ill ; 
 
 But when, incensed, He hares the Blade of Judgment, 
 The Angels veil their ears with wings, and thrill. 
 
 Yet, when from off that Table of His grace 
 He gives what each may carry to their place 
 
 Azdzil's * self draivs nigh : "Even for me 
 A portion will ie portioned ! " Shaitan says. 
 
 Pitying sad hearts as Maher, Friend, and Guide ; 
 Hearing all prayers which rise on every side ; 
 With searching vision seeing times to he. 
 Acquainted with the shameful things we hide : 
 
 Lord of the Heavens above, and Earth helow, 
 Lord of the Last Account ! Each neck must how 
 
 * The devil. 
 
38 WITH SA'DI IN THE GAEDEN ; 
 
 In deep submission to Him : hold not up 
 Finger of Uame at Sis decreeing — thou ! 
 
 All-good, All-True, Eis Beed of Destiny 
 Brew in the womh the earliest lines of thee ; 
 
 He set the Sun and Moon from East to West 
 Speeding ; and lent the Hue arch o'er the Sea. 
 
 When Earth, bewildered, shook in earthquake-throes, 
 With mountain-roots He bound her borders close; 
 
 Turkis and ruby in her rocks he stored, 
 And on her green branch hung His crimson rose. 
 
 He shapes dull seed to fair imaginings ; 
 Who paints with moisture as He painteth things ? 
 
 Look ! from the cloud He sheds one drop on ocean, 
 And from the Father's loins one drop He brings; — ■ 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 39 
 
 And, out of that, He forms a 'peerless pearl,* 
 And, out of this, a cypress hoy or girl ; 
 
 Utterly wotting all their innermosts. 
 For all to Sim is visible ! Uncurl 
 
 Tour cold coils. Snakes ! Creep forth, ye thrifty Ants ! 
 Handless and strengthless He provides your wants 
 
 Wlio from the "Is not " planned the " Is to he," 
 And Life in non-existent void implants. 
 
 Again, he lids the embodied disappear. 
 
 And — shrouding it — to the Assembly -place doth hear 
 
 The Maidan of His judgment. Ah, we know 
 His Majesty and Might, hut win not near 
 
 The secret of His mandates ! nowise reach 
 What lies beyond all wit and sight and speech ! 
 
 * It was a Persian belief that pearls were generated from rain-drops 
 enclosed in sea-shells. 
 
40 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 On that lone Peak perches no bird of Fancy, 
 No hand to touch the coasts of Him can reach ! 
 
 A thousand ships have foundered here lefore, 
 So lost, no chip of them came hack to shore : 
 
 I, too, on those ivaves ivandered — many a night ! 
 Till Terror plucked my sleeve, cryijig : " No more ! 
 
 " To land ! tli horizon of God's knowledge rings 
 
 Thee and the worlds ! think' st thou, that King of Kings 
 
 To compass iy conjecture ? thou, a point ! 
 When Wisdom! s self wists not His hidden things ? " 
 
 Hadst thou a tongue of wonder like Subhdn * 
 It could not tell one Alif of the plan : 
 
 Bask horsemen on this road have spurred their coursers, 
 At La ahs^ t they stopped, and sought the Klidn ! t 
 
 * A very famous Arab poet and rhetorician. 
 
 t Meaning " I have not (adecjuately) praised Thee ; " a verse of the 
 Koran. 
 t The inn. 
 
OR, THE BOOK OP LOVE. 41 
 
 Since ways there he which not the stoutest ride : 
 Dark defiles where men fling their shields aside : 
 The Angels shut the gateway of returning 
 On whomso such far Journey doth betide I 
 
 Who sits at banquet of such mystery 
 Must quaff a cup of senselessness. Oh, Sea 
 
 Of Fear never yet rounded ! Landless ocean ! 
 Wise pilots will not venture upon thee ! 
 
 The long-winged hawk shall find his eyelids sewn ! 
 The eagle, who with open orbs had flown. 
 
 His proud plumes singed. To treasures of Karun 
 There was a path of going — not return ! 
 
 Yet, in God's wilderness if thou wilt he 
 A traveller, untie thy cameVs knee ! 
 
 Bream, not of home and friends ! Thyself and Thou, 
 Mirror and face — that's all the company ! 
 
42 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Haply the fragrance of Heaven's hidden Rose 
 Hath maddened thee with love ; thou art of those 
 
 Who tread the pathway of the Compact * — searchers 
 Waiting to hear the Voice. Truth will disclose 
 
 The Light — will rend the Veil of Flesh aside ; 
 Except His glory nothing else shall hide ! 
 
 Nothing ! but wonderment must seize thy iridic, 
 Crying to Reason's horseman, " No more ride ! " 
 
 Saheb. Noble ! Janab-i-Mirza ! Yet, metHnks, 
 There follow two more couplets — which begin 
 Har in bahr, honouring your Prophet ? 
 
 MiEZA. Yes ! 
 
 I did not wish you should hold Sa'di stern 
 To " people of the book " other than ours ; 
 Yet, of a truth, he ends the " Gateway " thus — 
 
 * Alluding to the story that, at the creation of living things, Allah 
 asked them aloud : " Am I not your God ? " to which all the elect re- 
 plied : " Yea, Lord," thereby binding themselves for ever to Him. 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 4j 
 
 [_The MiEZA reads.'\ 
 
 Over this Beep of God only one came, 
 Ifuhammad ! If men follow not tlie sanfie 
 
 Lost are they ! Those that turn from following 
 Wander full far, and win distress and shame. 
 
 If, choosing other ways, Man thinks to gain, 
 He shall not to his journey's end attain. 
 
 Sa'di, speak truth ! the Path of Purity 
 Only behind God's Chosen opens plain ! 
 
 Saheb. Be sorry for ns, Gulbadan ! and you, 
 Light-hearted Dilaz§,r ! we shall not climb — 
 If this be sooth — into sweet Paradise, 
 Nor pluck the Tooba-tree, whose fair fruit bends 
 Glad to the hand ; nor taste celestial wine 
 Sealed with the musk ; nor ever see you wave 
 Green 'kerchiefs to us, 'midst those Heavenly ones — 
 
44 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Since Huris you will be, with black-pearl eyes, 
 
 Lulu-l-maknun ! — 
 DiLAZAE. Did not tlie Mirza read 
 
 Azazil's self comes to tlie Tray of God 
 
 And finds a portion ? 
 GoLBADAN. Oh, no need to leave 
 
 Our Saheb to Shaitan for his company ! 
 
 There will be kind souls in Jehannum, Dear ! 
 
 When I tied on the bells a Mollah said 
 
 There was no paradise for dancing-girls ; 
 
 But one, well learned too, laid gentle hand 
 
 Upon his skirt, and answered : " Knowest thou this? 
 
 Hast thou, my Brother ! keys of Heaven and Hell, 
 
 When the great Book saith {Sura Fourth it was !) : 
 
 ' Allah doth justify whomso He will ; 
 
 None shall be wronged one date- stone?'" Who can 
 tell? 
 
 We know not ! 
 DiLAZAK. True, we know not ! yet 'tis sad 
 
OE, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 45 
 
 The Saheb should live a Kafir, loving so 
 Us and our people. 
 GULBADAN. Well ! last year, in the Eains, 
 
 Our taifah to Calcutta went, and I 
 Fell sick of country fever. — Dilaz§,r ! 
 You cannot think how the blood runs all flame, 
 How bad the beating at the temples is, 
 And what fierce thirst ! But, when I lay at worst, 
 There came an English Hakimi to me — 
 A woman — wise, oh, as no Mollah is, 
 With pale face like the Saheb's, and eyes more blue 
 Than Mirza Hussein's ring-stone. Never a word 
 Questioned she of my faith, nor of my trade, 
 But — as we had been sisters of one womb, 
 Not fearing my wild speech, not hating me, 
 Foul, miserable, ill-ordered — bathed my brow 
 With sweet refreshing waters ; cooled my mouth 
 With sherbets delicately mixed ; combed smooth 
 My tangled hair, and sponged my burning skin 
 
46 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN; 
 
 With touch more soft than ever lover had ; 
 
 Then changed my cloth, and drew the chuddar straight, 
 
 Gave me some sovereign drug, and kissing me, 
 
 Said, " You will sleep, and will be well again 
 
 In time to dance, my Sister ! " And I slept, 
 
 Dreaming so placidly of winds that blew 
 
 Wave-cold over the sea, fanning my face ; 
 
 Of streams that ran snow-cold over my feet, 
 
 Calming my blood ; — but, when I woke, and laughed 
 
 For comfort of glad life made new again, 
 
 There were my Hakimi's kind eyes once more 
 
 Beaming, while 'twas her white hands washed my feet. 
 
 And sprinkled fragrant essence on my brow 
 
 Eose-sweet ! and, will you think I tell you truth, 
 
 Oh, Dilazar ! oh, Mirza ? at her side, — 
 
 Come there to see us in the Hospital — 
 
 The high Lord Viceroy's wife, with gentle looks 
 
 And quiet voice, commanding all around ; 
 
 Such a great "Mem-Saheb" that I drew my sheet 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 47 
 
 Lest she should see me and think scorn of me — 
 Lady Duffreen, the mighty Queen's Vice-queen ! 
 Think, Dilaz^r ! and I a singing-girl ! — 
 But, when I heard her speak soft Urdu words. 
 Like a white angel in her pity of us, 
 No whit afraid of sitla, or of tap 
 Fever or pest ! there, for the love of us. 
 Pacing among the charpoys of the ward, 
 Followed by all the eyes with praise and thanks, 
 I turned my chuddar back to gaze and gaze : 
 And then I said — I think she heard me say, 
 My Mkimi— " Ah, Mollah ! if there be 
 No place in Paradise for Nautchenees, 
 We shall meet these, and that will not be Hell ! " 
 
 DiLAZAE. Dear Gulbadan ! how sinful, if they knew ! 
 You should have whispered it, lest Kafirs heard 
 A Mussulm§,ni say so ! 
 
 Saheb. I rejoice 
 
 You saw our good and dear Vice-queen, who loves 
 
48 WITH SA'DI IN THE GAEDEN ; 
 
 Her Indian sisters, and makes telp for them. 
 But this is not that Sa'di we should read. 
 MiEZA. I deem not so ! Lord Sa'di speaks of Faith 
 At outsetting, since Shariyat comes first 
 In SMc lore, where forms and creeds are all ; 
 Tarikat next, when forms and creeds recede, 
 And " the Path " mounteth to Hakikat free 
 The Stage of Truth, past doctrines and past names, 
 And thence to Ma'arifat, the Stage Divine 
 Where the Soul dwells in light unspeakable. 
 Nor sees alone Jaldl, the Glory of God, 
 But Jamdl — Beauty, Grace, and Joy of God, 
 For which dear splendours we desire Him most, 
 Not for His Terrors, nor His Majesties ! 
 And this doth Sa'di inculcate in verse. 
 Nay, ye began him better than ye knew. 
 Speaking large charities, and hopes for all : 
 Since — writes he not ? — Allah hath made us all 
 Angels, and Men, and Jinns, Birds, Beasts, and Fish ; — • 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 49 
 
 And all are pictures from His hand ; are cups 
 Filled with His wine ; are steps to bring to Him ; 
 Are whispers of the wonders of His Love ! 
 Hear now Khush-wakt — how God's true lovers live : 
 
 [The MiEZA hegim the IshJc] 
 
 FAIR GO THE DA YS of them that drink Love's wine 
 Mighty and maddening ! 'Tis a hliss divine ; 
 Whether they suffer Separation's anguish, 
 Or taste Propinquity's sweet medicine! 
 
 Earth's Jcingdoms shunning, these true Sultans he ! 
 Rags of the Prison wearing these pass free 
 
 In changeless royal roles invisible, 
 For union's sake enduring poverty. 
 
 Time after time is shed into their cup 
 The litter juice of pain — they drink it up, 
 
so WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN; 
 
 j4.nd — if they fimd it sharp — 'tis hut to draw 
 Hard hreath and wait, till better comes to sup. 
 
 Hides not the purple pleasure of the grape 
 Head-sicTcness underneath it ? Can one 'scape 
 
 Wounds in the green Rose-garden, when no Rose 
 But arms with thorns her heauty ? So, they drape 
 
 Their souls in dress of Patience ! Patiently 
 Waiting for Love is well-at-ease to be ! 
 Tani az dast-i-dost, oh, bitterness 
 Comes sugared, when a dear hand gives it thee ! 
 
 They see not — seeh not — any drawing back ; 
 Caught in this snare no captive asks to slack 
 
 His welcome chains ! Rich mendicants, veiled 
 monarchs 
 They know Heaven's Road, though ye note not their track ! 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 51 
 
 Intoxicate with draughts of Heavenly love 
 They drink it deeper, while their smiles reprove 
 
 Our soier blame. Ah, have ye marked how lightly. 
 Drunken with desert-flowers, the camels move ? 
 
 How shall men follow in the path they tread ? 
 It runs in darkness like the crystal shed 
 
 By Life's hid Biver : like the Holy Houses 
 Outside all's blank, within is goodlihead / 
 
 Moth-like they flutter back into the ray 
 
 Which scorched them ; silkworm^like they spin away 
 
 This World! s thread for the next World. Nought so fair 
 As to seem fair enough ! If one should say. 
 
 Clasping his Heart's Delight, " Now, where is she t " 
 So are these always seeking ! On the sea 
 
 They search for boimdlessness ; drinking Nile Biver 
 They ask, with parched lips, " When will water be i " 
 
52 WITH SA'DI IN THE GAEDEN ; 
 
 Sufis I Heaven's chosen these ! Oh, Adam's Son ! 
 That lov'st another like thine oxun self — one 
 
 Built of the water and the clay — she also 
 Bavishes comfort from thee ; — all undone 
 
 Thou liest awalce, for sake of mole on cheek, 
 Brain-sick, enamoured ! And when eyelids seek 
 
 To drop sleep s curtain, all thy dreams are hound 
 In thought of her; of her thy lips still speak! 
 
 Beneath her feet, fond Votary > thou dost lay 
 Thy head submissive, in such lowly way 
 
 As if this Earth with all it holds were nothing, 
 And Joy bloomed only by her kindling ray. 
 
 Thy gold shows dim except she sees it gleam, 
 Otherwise gold and dust the same things seem : 
 
 Save for her kiss, thou sayst, how feel desire ? 
 That suck another breathes thou ivilt not deem. 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 53 
 
 By day 'tis "Apple of my eye ! " hy night — 
 
 When eyes are closed — 'tis " Best, thou dear Delight ! 
 
 Sole in this heart!" No wandering wish, for 
 shame ! 
 No power, no will to win one hour's respite ! 
 
 If she should crave thy life, to take away, 
 Thy life upon her hand thou It haste to lay ! 
 
 If she should hare a sharp blade for thy neck. 
 Joyously wouldst thou kneel that she might slay. 
 
 Lovers ! whose love is fed on eyes' desire, 
 If this can so content, control, inspir'e, 
 
 Marvel ye that the wayfarers towards God 
 Plunge in Truth's ocean, hum with Frenzy's fire ? 
 
 Passionate for the Unseen, as never none 
 Passioned for Seen; remembering — every one — 
 
 Day-tide and night-tide, only Him, as never 
 Lover remembered mistress under Sun ! 
 
54 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 For glee, of God knowing no want or ivill ; 
 World-heedless ; seeing — whatever vintage fill 
 
 Earth's jewelled Gup — the Gup-hearer so splendid 
 That, all for ecstacy, His wine they spill ! 
 
 Nor shall ye ever make them whole again ; 
 Nor help with simples, knowing not their pain : 
 
 They hear ye not ; they only hear their Maimer 
 Say, "Am I not your God ? " piercing and plain, 
 
 For ever and for ever — as at first ; 
 
 And clamorous answers from their icing hurst, 
 
 " Yea, Lord ! yea, hlessed Lord ! " a crowd of Lovers 
 Outwardly humhle, of the proud accurst. 
 
 But nohle inwardly ! Feet deep in mire. 
 But faces hright, eyes lit with astral fire : 
 
 Plucking the mountains from their roots vnth praying. 
 Piling great cities high with strong desire ! 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. SJ 
 
 Wind-like they move at speed invisible ; 
 Stone-like they testify, yet nothing tell ; 
 
 Weeping hy daylight, so that mid tears wash 
 Sleep's soorma from their lids ! And night knows well 
 
 How these haw urged the foundered Steed of Flesh 
 From watch to watch with meditations. Fresh 
 
 Breaks the gold-dappled Dawn to find them sighing 
 " No rest to us 1 " — for home along in mesh 
 
 Of fiery phantasy they take no heed 
 If day or night he ; notice not, indeed, 
 
 Whether sun shines, or stars or planets glitter : 
 So lost in Life they have forgot life's need ; 
 
 So deep enamoured of the Picture-Maker 
 
 Who paints the face of Nature, that they take her 
 
 As nought — despite her gladness, wealth, and heauty — 
 And for His perfect sake wholly forsake her. 
 
56 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Yea / for they will not give to Forms their mind ; 
 And if a fool gives, he is rash and blind ! 
 
 Who scorns this and the next world, that man tasteth 
 True wine of Oneness — he of human kind ! 
 
 Saheb. Ah ! but how far we seem from earth herein ! 
 
 Above your topmost notes, fair Gulbadan, 
 
 Even if you sang on terrace of the Taj ; 
 
 Beyond Dilazar's reach, though she should dance 
 
 A-tiptoe in her little tinselled shoes, 
 
 And hold tamboora up at fingers' ends ! 
 
 Can men, indeed, live on such cloudy food ? 
 
 Must we not love the form, the grace we see. 
 
 The wine poured forth, the picture painted us ? 
 
 Bring Sa'di down, Mirza ! to Arjamand, 
 
 And flesh, and blood, and earth — if that may be ! 
 MmZA.. Sir ! when you came, a second time, to see 
 
 This Taj, you mounted on the outer gate 
 
 Writ with stern Scriptures : and from highest roof 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 57 
 
 Marked the full greatness of th.e Tomb, far-off, 
 How its pale dome hung beauteous in the sky, 
 And how its white feet in these flowers were set. 
 Linking the Heaven and Earth in harmonies. 
 So is it here ! Sa'di shows loye of Heaven 
 Linked with the Earthly love, fulfilling it : 
 And how that beauty is of God at last ! 
 Oh, you of Dihli ! 'mid your lightsome lays 
 Know you a graver string-verse, can you sing 
 Shukur-i-Dost — the " Praises of the Friend " ? 
 GuLBADiN. Say me the line, Sir ! Ah, yes ! Dil-i-man ! 
 
 [She sings to a solemn air, Dilazae. striking only the 
 trass wire.] 
 
 My heart I cannot fitly raise ; 
 
 I know no language for His praise ! 
 
 He gave me every hair that grows ; 
 How thank Him, then, for each of those ? 
 
 How bless enough, when I must bless 
 The grace to bless such blessedness ? 
 
58 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Was it thy dam, or was it He 
 Made the soft womb to shelter thee ? 
 
 And when they cut the cord, prepared 
 Tender true arms to be thy guard ? 
 
 Soft bosoms, milkful, to arise 
 
 Like fountains filled from Paradise ? 
 
 The Mother, like a tree, to stand 
 Fruit on the branch, babe in the hand ? 
 
 Life-giving and life-cherishing. 
 
 Feeding thy flesh from Love's own spring ? 
 
 From breasts and veins that richly ranged 
 With blood which Love to nectar changed : 
 
 Whose was that wisdom ? whose that plan ? 
 Whose that sweet stratagem ? oh, man ! 
 
 And this new neck of Mistress dear, 
 Didst thou devise, or find it here ? 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 59 
 
 Did she and thou invent those eyes 
 Shedding such lustre, that surprise 
 
 Of Love caught up thy soul again, 
 Re-mounting on thy heart to reign ? 
 
 But, thinkest thou He hath not thrifts 
 Of giving better than these gifts ? 
 
 Deem'st thou He is not more to love 
 Than loveliest things below, above ? 
 
 No « He " !— no " She " ! but Twain ! but All ! 
 The Best, Last, Most, which can befall. 
 
 Ah ! if that Mother's lap was warm, 
 Wilt thou not trust th' Eternal Arm ? 
 
 Ah ! if the lip beloved was bliss, 
 Wilt thou not woo celestial kiss ? 
 
 Man ! if stars gleam upon thy clay, 
 Wilt thou not sleep and wait His day? 
 
6o WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Saheb. What ! can you dance to L&la rukshar, girl ! 
 Or Shukar lab, and make great eyes for gain, 
 Knowing sucli strains ? 
 
 DiLAZAR. Huzoor ! we only are 
 
 Little green parrots, taught to speak our best : 
 You pay us with some sugar-cane, — and go, 
 Forgetting if our necks were red or gold, 
 Or if we ever lived. 
 
 GuLBADAN. And, Sakeb ! bethink ! 
 
 There was a great Lord in a garden found 
 A broken vase which smelt of nard and musk 
 Pull sweet — and, when he asked "JBii chist?" — Art thou 
 She whom the bulbul lauds for odorousness ? 
 The potsherd meekly spake : " Sir, no such thing ! 
 No Rose am I, but with the Rose I dwelled ! " 
 So is it with thy servants ! 
 
 Saheb. Sisters, nay ! 
 
 For Sa'di sings ye too are dear to God : 
 But, Mirza ! make us hear what Sa'di says : 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 6 
 
 MiRZA. Now will he tell tow even Earthly Love 
 Hath its persistence ; and the might of that 
 To shew self nought, leading the Spirit on 
 That it may lose itself, and gain by loss : 
 
 \_Th6 MiBZA reads.] 
 Once on a time, I heard, a Beggar's son 
 Loved — heart and soul — a Palace-nurtured one ; 
 
 Nu/i'sed the vain passion, till his wistful fancy 
 Plunged its teeth daily to Desire's bone. 
 
 Booted he stood, like milestone, on the plain 
 
 Where she shoidd pass ; and, when she came again, 
 
 The Fit's not closer to the ivory Asp * 
 On play-hoard, than to her that love-lorn swain ! 
 
 For her his hlood to his pale cheek went leaping ; 
 Foot-fast in mire of grief, he tarried weeping : 
 
 The Sultan's guards, observing this behaviour. 
 Gave warning : " Be not found in these parts, peeping / " 
 
 * The " elephant " and " horse, " two pieces of the Persian chess-table. 
 
62 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Awhile he fled ; then, memory of her face 
 Returned resistless ! In the self-same place 
 
 Anew he camped, beside her high pavilion. 
 A palace servant Irahe his head : " Disgrace 
 
 " Be on thee ! " cried he, " Spiahe we not, no more 
 Trouble us here ? " Yet, still, as theretofore, 
 
 Patience and Best remained not; that fair visage 
 Kept Best and Patience from his spirit's door. 
 
 As flies are brushed from sugar, so they drove 
 This Lover off ; and, still at speed, for love, 
 
 As flies come back to sugar sate he steadfast, 
 Seeding no bloivs. Him roundly to reprove 
 
 " Ai SHukh ! Dewani-rang ! " one spahe in scorn, 
 " Insolent Madman ! tridy thou hast borne 
 
 Too patiently plain speech of stones and staves J " 
 He said, " This maketh me no whit forlorn ! 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 63 
 
 " This Cometh from the tyranny of one 
 
 Whose will is sweet ! With Lovers surely none 
 
 Shall dare complain of what Love's hand injlicteth ; 
 L breathe true Ireath of friendliness — alone, 
 
 " Lf that must he ! — hut, whether holdeth she 
 This faithful heart her friend or enemy, 
 
 Comfort is nowhere else, far from her presence 
 Patience hath never •possibility ! 
 
 " Too full of love my soiol is to find place 
 For fear or anger. Dwell I here in grace 
 
 Or fiy with foot of shame, here must heart linger ; 
 Say thou not therefore, ' Turn aside thy face ! ' 
 
 " ' Quit the King's door ! ' No ! not if they surround 
 My neck with cords, as peg of tent is bound ; 
 
 No ! the burned moth is happier in the lantern 
 Than live, and in the dark ! " — The attendant found 
 
64 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 This answer : " WTiat if they shall heat thee hlack ? " 
 The Lover said : " Ball-like I will roll hack 
 
 At her dear foot ! " Quoth he, " But if they slay thee 
 With sharp of sword ? " The Lover said : " Good lack ! 
 
 " Then will L die, not grudging ! Unto me 
 If nigh my neck gold chain or steel axe he 
 
 Full little knowledge is ! hut this is certain, 
 Idle it were to chide my ecstacy : 
 
 " Love finds no measure ! If mine eyes were groicn 
 Clouded with tears of woe as Yakiih's oivn, 
 
 Still woidd I trust for sight of Yusuf ! * Lovers 
 Must not for every little let make moan ! " 
 
 DiLAZAR. I could not love so ! 
 
 Saheb. Not if yon were loved ? 
 
 * The legend is that the eyes of Jacob became blind with weeping for 
 Joseph. 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 65 
 
 DiLAZAR. Afrin /* I miglit feel pity then, perchance ; 
 
 4" 
 
 And more, if — humble to the dust for me — 
 He had been bolder with those Palace-guards, 
 Stabbed the King's Muhtasib, and then sunk dead — - 
 Covered with loving wounds, like rose-buds blown — 
 Or near to die, at lattice of my stairs : 
 Truly, if he were young and fair, with this 
 I might have softened, stealing down unveiled. 
 And kissing him to health with honeyed verse. 
 
 Saheb. Would verse do that ? 
 
 DiLAZAK. Why ! Mirza Hussein knows 
 
 How in Lord Sa'di's time one little verse 
 Restored a dying Lover. He was fall'n 
 In death-trance at the door- way of his Love, 
 A princess proud and fair ; but, as he sank. 
 He spake to such as gathered, lending help. 
 Three verses and one word — and they were these : 
 
 * A Persian exclamation of pleasure or admiration, meaning " Create ! " 
 i.e., " Oh, Allah, make more like it 1 " 
 
65 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 " Bring my Life, my Mistress, here ! 
 Let her see me on my bier ! 
 
 If she deign my lips to kiss 
 I * 
 
 " I " — ^then he swooned and spake no further thing. 
 
 But Sa'di, passing, questioned of the youth 
 
 Who lay so pale and still : — and when they told 
 
 How at that fourth line Silence stopped his tongue, 
 
 And when they said his sad words o'er again, 
 
 Sa'di fulfilled them, adding to the " I " — 
 
 " Shall rise ! have ye no fear ! " and so they brought 
 
 That Lady, and recited what had been : 
 
 Whereat, with pearls of pity on the leaves 
 
 Of those red roses blushing in her cheek. 
 
 Pull tenderly she stooped — shame quite ashamed — 
 
 * The Persian lines were — 
 
 Janan-i-man baman biyarid 
 In mudah tanam b^do biyarid 
 Agar boosa zanad bar in labtluam 
 
 Ta 
 
 [Sa'di JiUed in : zindah shavaui ! ajab madarid.) 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 67 
 
 And kissed his mouth ; and then the dead man rose, 
 Won back to happy days by lips and verse : 
 Much virtue lives there in a kiss and verse. 
 MiRZA. Yes ! it so happened, Dilaz§,r ; but here 
 Our Lover who is shadow of the Soul, 
 Straining for Beauty out of sight and reach, 
 For Love by perils girt, Joy walled by griefs, 
 Cometh not nigher than words far away 
 And worship strong as death. Attend again ! 
 
 [The MmzA reads.] 
 
 It chanced one day he kissed her stirrup-string ; 
 Incensed, she fiung aside ! He said this thing, 
 
 Low sighing : " Nay ! hut do not draw thy Iridic 
 The Sultans self scorns no man worshipping. 
 
 " I am not I.' 'Tis thou art I and thou ! 
 My Being is thy Being ! Seeing thee now 
 
68 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 What I was T forgot ! No more reproach me, 
 Blood of my veins, and eyebrow of my hrow ! 
 
 " I touched thy stirrup with that hardihood 
 Taking no coimt of self / ' Tis understood. 
 
 Naming thy sweet name hlots my sad name out ! 
 What thou ivoidd'st he and have, is what I would ! 
 
 " If thou wilt slay, the anger of thine eye 
 Sends death enough ! No need, if I must die. 
 
 To strike ! Set fire unto this bending reed, 
 And pass ! All will lie ashes iy and hy !" 
 
 Saheb. Whither would Sa'di lead us, singing this ? 
 
 MiEZA. Sarkar ! the Poet leads us — as I think — 
 To this chief wisdom : that Love is not Love 
 Except it tear forth Self-love from the breast, 
 And so absorb the Lover in that frame 
 Of imaged fairness, where he finds soul's lamp 
 
OE, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 69 
 
 So draw, and daze, and tangle Kim with beams 
 (Ever so darkly radiating from God), 
 Beams all for him — albeit dull and dim — 
 That he shall quite forget what else was dear, 
 Wealth, comfort, peace, pleasure — nay, life itself — ■ 
 To live and die in light of those bright eyes, 
 In reach of those sole arms, in blissful range 
 Of music echoing from that one sweet mouth. 
 
 DiLAZAE. Oh, Mirza ! may I be your sacrifice ! 
 But in what market does one buy such love ? 
 
 MiEZA. In all the markets, Daughter ! where they sell 
 Black snow, cold fire, dry water, and such goods ; 
 For this thing cometh not of golden gifts. 
 Nor marriage-brokers, nor with bartered hearts. 
 But is by Kismat and the grace of God, 
 And bringeth where He will. 
 
 Saheb. And, if He will 
 
 That it bring far ? 
 
 MiEZA. Then may the Lover learn 
 
70 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN; 
 
 Infinite things beyond that thing he sought : 
 
 For Beauty is a perfectness of Allah, 
 
 Showing Himself; and the Soul — seeing this 
 
 By vision of the senses, so devised 
 
 That flesh must thrill, delighted blood must course. 
 
 Heart bound with worship, and glad eyes grow dim 
 
 Beholding Beauty — Soul, perceiving this. 
 
 Hath first the impulse to create in turn — 
 
 Whence human crave for household, wife, and child, 
 
 Whereby this earth is peopled — then, past that, 
 
 The passion to draw near Heaven's perfectness, 
 
 To lose the Self therein, to live for it, 
 
 To win to wonders of the Eose-garden, 
 
 To secrets of the songs of nightingales 
 
 (Hark ! do we know how Heav'n hath taught them 
 
 that ?) ; 
 To silver meanings of yon midnight moon, 
 To reasons why honey is sweet, and musk 
 Fragrant, and skies so blue, and singing dear ; 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 71 
 
 To hidden mysteries of Allah's love. 
 
 For more than He is glorious He is dear, 
 
 More than almighty sweet and beautiful, 
 
 (Astaghfiru 'llah I may He pardon this !) ; 
 
 Led so by spell of Love — be it for high, 
 
 Be it for low, whether 'tis Arjamand 
 
 Worthy to lay a king's head on her knees 
 
 And teach him tasks, or some black hamM's wench 
 
 Whose shining shoulders strike the simple heart, 
 
 So led, the Lover hath his man's blood changed — 
 
 In base hearts little, in the gentle much — 
 
 To mildness as of maid, to peace, to grace. 
 
 To sacrifice, and amity, and thirst 
 
 For manful deeds, that each may show himself 
 
 Grand in the eyes divine of what he loves. 
 
 For souls spread forth their purples and their gold 
 
 Peacock-like, in the sight of what they woo. 
 
 And even the slave is lordly where he loves. 
 
 Thus haps it that the breasts of Beauty nurse 
 
72 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN; 
 
 Spirits to second life as mother-breasts 
 Nourislied the babe to growth of boy and man ; 
 So falls it — Sa'di means — that, lost in love, 
 The heart's-foot walketh yet a rightful path. 
 And all is wasted well for sovereign Love ! 
 
 DiLAZAE. Will men waste much for Love ? 
 
 GuLBADAN. Oh, Dilaz^r ! 
 
 Do we not know ? If HS,tim Tai could give 
 His horse for honour, where's the lover fond 
 We could not bring to prison-bread and chains ? 
 
 Saheb. What was it Hatim did, my Eose-bodied ? 
 
 GuLBADAN. If I have leave, 'tis told of HItim, Lord ! — 
 The Mirza knows — how once he owned a steed 
 Swift-flying as the driving cloud, night-black, 
 With neigh of thunder ; scattering in his stride 
 The desert-stones, as that thou would'st have asked 
 " Is this a hail-storm breaks ? " So fleet a steed 
 Men said the wind lagged after him ; the foam 
 Blown from Ms scarlet nostrils lacked full time 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. -ji 
 
 To fleck the dust 'ere those strong clattering hoofs 
 
 Passed forth from ear-shot. And the fame of this, 
 
 Of Hatim and his stallion, came to Roum, 
 
 Into the Sultan's ear ; for one had said, 
 
 " No man is like to him for open hand, 
 
 And nowhere such a horse to bear such man ! " 
 
 Then to his Vazir spake the King of Roum : 
 
 " Claim without proof is shame ! let people go 
 
 And ask that horse from Hatim ; if he gives, 
 
 On wish of friendly Liege, what best he hath. 
 
 Then shall men know that liberality 
 
 Rules perfect in his breast ; but, if he grudge, 
 
 This talk o' the world is but a drum-skin beat." 
 
 So, to the tribe of Tai the envoy went 
 With ten to guard him ; and at Hatim's camp, 
 After long travel, and sore times of strait. 
 Late, on a night of evil weather, lighted. 
 As glad as who comes parched to Zinda's banks. 
 
74 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 The Chief's green tents were pitched amidst the 
 
 waste, 
 The herds were far, the grain sacks empty, guests 
 Nowise awaited. Not the less, with cheer 
 Goodly and free the stranger-folk were fed ; 
 Pull trays were served under the sheltering cloth, 
 Roast meat and boiled meat, pillaw and kabab : 
 Sweetmeats he tied them in their skirts, and gave 
 Cakes in their hands ; and all night long they slept 
 Safe upon Hatim's carpets. When 'twas day 
 The Sultan's envoy spoke his Lord's desire, 
 Saying with honeyed phrase, as one afeared, 
 " Oh, Giver of the Age ! whose fame flies wide 
 For lordliness of heart and open hand ! 
 My master bids me ask thy steed from thee. 
 That wondrous horse, night-black, swifter than wind. 
 Which if thou givest, liberality 
 Rules perfect in thy heart, but if thou grudge. 
 He saith this talk o' the earth is drum-skin noise." 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 75 
 
 But while the Sultan's messenger said this, 
 With forehead on the tent floor, and fair words, 
 H&tim sate mute, gnawing the hand of Thought 
 With teeth of Lamentation. Presently 
 Outbrake he : " Would to God, Friend of my Tribe ! 
 Thy message had been uttered over- night ! 
 The rain beat, and the torrents ran death-deep 
 Between my tents and where our pastures spread ; 
 No ox, nor goat, nor camel was in camp ; 
 What should I do ? How could I, being I, 
 Suffer my guests to sleep all hunger-racked ? 
 How could I, being I, whose name is known, 
 Spare what was dearest, honour being more ? 
 Look you ! that Horse — my Friend ! my Joy ! my 
 
 Wealth ! 
 That Duldul, who could leave the hawk behind, 
 Between whose hoofs I slept as in safe tent. 
 Black as a starless night, with mouth of silk — ■ 
 I killed him for your suppers, tell the King ! " 
 
76 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 But wHen the Sultan teard this thing, he cried : 
 " None is like Hatim ! I would pawn half Roum 
 To buy black Duldul's life for him again." 
 
 Saheb. Thanks ! Gulbadan ! Will Dilaz^r doubt yet 
 What men may do ? 
 
 DiLAZAR. Oh, but for pride — yes ! yes ! 
 
 Or fame, or name. Asylum of the Time ! 
 Only I wonder if we singing girls 
 Come nigh the grace of such grand giving-ways 
 Or live in reach of Sa'di's mysteries. 
 
 MiEZA. Well ! hear how Sa'di still continueth, 
 For 'tis a Dancer takes the parable : 
 
 [The MiEZA reads.] 
 
 I heard how, to the heat of some quick tune, 
 There rose and danced a Damsel like the moon, 
 
 Flower-mouthed and Pdri-faced ; and all around 
 her 
 Neck-stretching Lovers gathered close : hut, soon 
 
OE, THE BOOK OF LOVE. tj 
 
 A flickering lavip-flame caught her sidrt, and set 
 Fire to the flying gauze. Fear did leget 
 
 Trouble in that light heart. She cried amain. 
 Quoth one among her worshippers, " Why fret, 
 
 " Tulip of Love ? Th' extinguished flre hath burned 
 Only one leaf of thee ! but I am turned 
 
 To ashes — leaf and stalk, and floiver and root — 
 By lamp-flash of thine eyes! " — "Ah, Soul concerned 
 
 " Solely tvith self.' " — she answered, laughing lotv, 
 " If thou wert Lover thou, hadst not said so. 
 
 Who speaks of the Belovcts woe as not his 
 Speaks infidelity, true Lovers knoiv ! " 
 
 Saheb. Now, Dilaz§,r ! whilst the wise Hussein rests, 
 Dance us a dance like that moon-visaged one 
 To suit this night and make Self quite forgot, 
 And tread thy doubts, and mine, and all, to dust 
 
78 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 With beat of feet as soft as Sa'di's verse 
 
 And measures of the Mogul time. 
 DiLAZAK. My Lord. 
 
 I fear the lamp ! 
 Saheb. See ! we will set it back ! 
 
 It shall not burn one leaf of our light flower. 
 
 Now make the pacing pea-hens envious ! 
 DiLAZAR. If Gulbadan will sing ! 
 GuLBADAN. Would you have this ? 
 
 A ghazal like the songs of Arjamand 
 
 When the green Garden had no milk-white Taj. 
 
 Maybe she ofttimes heard such even here,* 
 
 * The Impekial Musicians. — " I cannot sufficiently describe the won- 
 derful power of this talisman of linowledge (music). It sometimes causes 
 the beautiful creatures of the harem of the heart to shine forth on the 
 tongue, and sometimes appears in solemn strains by means of the hand 
 and the chord. The melodies then enter through the window of the ear 
 and return to their former seat, the heart, bringing with them thousands 
 of presents. The hearers, according to their insight, are moved to sorrow 
 or to joy. Music is thus of use to those who have renounced the world 
 and to such as still cling to it." 
 
 " His Maje.=!ty pays much attention to music, and is the patron of all 
 who practise this enchanting art. There are numerous musicians at Court 
 Hindus, Iranis, Turanis, Kashmiris, both men and women. The court 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 79 
 
 By moonlight, to the splashing of the jets. 
 And echo of the bulbuls clamouring. 
 MiKZA. Aye ! and to cry of yonder little owl 
 Who, Mirza-like, mid all your heedless notes 
 Hoots "hoo-hoo-hoo ! " * as who should say " He ! He ! 
 The Highest ! only God is Beautiful ! " 
 
 La haula wa la kuwatu — he sighed, 
 Ilia hi 'llahi ! " Only God is great ! 
 No glory otherwhere ! " Then, while he laid 
 The goli on his pipe-bowl, and drew deep 
 The scented smoke bubbling through rose-water, 
 The Kashmir Damsel, smiling, loosed the shawl 
 Draped rich about her hips ; set firm the flower 
 Ablaze in her black hair; salaamed, and swam 
 Into the Persian measure, waving hands, 
 
 musicians are arranged in seven divisions, one for each day in the week. 
 When his Majesty gives the order, they let the wine of harmony flow, and 
 thus increase intoxication in some, and sobriety in others." — Ayn 30 of 
 Ahbar. 
 
 * Hu„i.e., "He," God. 
 
8o WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 And swaying lissom limbs, while Gulbadan 
 Sang to Nishastah, and tlie beat of feet : 
 
 [GoLBADAN sings while Dilazar dances.^ 
 
 All in a Garden fair I sate, and spied 
 The Tulips dancing, dancing side by side, 
 
 With scarlet turbans dressed ; 
 All in a Garden green at night I heard 
 The gladsome voice of night's melodious Bird 
 
 Singing that " Loye is Best ! " 
 
 The shy white Jasmine drew aside her veil. 
 Breathing faint fragrance on the loitering gale, 
 
 And nodded, nodded " Yes ! 
 " Sweetest of all sweet things is Love ! and wise ! 
 Dance, Tulip ! Pipe, fond Bird, thy melodies ! 
 
 Wake, Eose of Loveliness ! " 
 
 "Yet," sighed the swaying Cypress, "who can tell 
 If Love be wise as sweet ? if it be well 
 
 For Love to dance and sing ? 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 81 
 
 I see — growing here always — year by year 
 The Bulbuls die, and on their grassy bier 
 Rose-petals scattering ! " 
 
 All in that Garden green the" Eose replied : 
 " Ah ! Cypress, look ! I put my leaves aside ; 
 
 Mark what is 'mid this bush ! 
 Three blue eggs in a closely-woven nest, 
 Sheltered, for music's sake, by branch and breast ! 
 
 There will be Bulbuls ! hush ! " 
 
 All in that Garden green the Bulbul trilled : 
 " Oh, foolish Cypress ! thinking Love was killed 
 
 Because he seemed to cease : 
 My best-Belov'd hath secrets at her heart, 
 Gold seeds of summer-time, new buds to start ; 
 
 There will be Eoses ! peace ! " 
 
 Then lightlier danced the Tulips than before 
 To waftings of the perfumed breeze, and more 
 Chanted the Nightingale : 
 
82 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 The fire-flies in tlie palms fresii lanterns lit ; 
 Her zone of grace the blushing Eose unknifc, 
 
 And blossomed, pure and pale ! 
 
 MiRZA. Listen ! Once more the small grey owlet cries 
 " Hoo ! hoo ! " among the palm-tops, testifying ; 
 And Sa'di winneth ye to larger Love : 
 
 [The MiRZA reads.] 
 
 It comes to me wliat a wise ancient told, 
 
 Hoio one, with God's love drunk, went — lone and hold — 
 
 Into the waste ; and, when his sire with anguish 
 Of separation — foodless, sleepless, old — 
 
 Reproached him, he replied : " From that dear day 
 When He who is the Friend to me did say, 
 
 ' Mine oivn thou art ! ' by God ! no earthly feeling 
 In this glad bosom found a place to slay. 
 
OE, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 83 
 
 " By God ! since He His beauty hath made known, 
 All other grace is dream and shadow grown." 
 
 Nay ! and he was not lost who left his people ; 
 God found him ; and he found his All, his Own! 
 
 Shunners of Earth there he beneath our shy, 
 Half angels, half wood-creatures, wild and shy ; 
 
 Like those, they rest not from remembering Heaven, 
 Like these, by day and night from men they fly 
 
 Tlieir spirits' function strong, their senses weak, 
 Foolish and wise by turn, maddened and meek ; 
 
 Stitching sometimes a mosque-coat in the corner, 
 Burning sometimes their mosque-coats, if men speak ; 
 
 For life no strife, for novxjht solicitude : 
 Their hearts a cavern where no steps intrude. 
 
 To Union consecrate ; — and there they sit 
 Beason-reft, ear-stufed unto whoso would 
 
84 WITH SA'DI IN THE GAEDEN ; 
 
 Bring counsel. Let them sit ! No duck is drowned 
 . In water ! No sainundar * yet was found 
 
 Singed hy a flame ! Full-stomached, empty-handed, 
 Without a kafilah o'er the sands they're lound. 
 
 No expectation of the people's praise 
 Have these ! Enough that God accepts their ways : 
 Enough He holds them dear, His Darweeshes, 
 Who without wool or waist-cord pass pure days. 
 
 Nay ! and these saints are like good ■vines which spirt 
 Wine from bltce grapes, with pleasant shadows girt ; 
 
 Not like those others, dark with evil doings, 
 No blue about them save their Sufi shirt ! 
 
 Shut on themselves — oyster-like — low they lie ; 
 Not foam-like, bubble-like, careering by 
 
 Upon the wave-top. Fear them, being prudent ! 
 Men-jinns they are, masked with humanity, 
 
 * The Salamander. 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 85 
 
 Not men of flesh and hone. In common mould 
 Strange spirits dwell ! Before the mart's outsold 
 
 The Sidtan buys what slaves he needs : the tailors 
 Stitch clothes, hut not the Sufis who^n they fold. 
 
 If white pearls greiv from all the hail that fell, 
 Bazaar's as cheap as cowries might them sell : 
 
 Oh ! you shall seldom see those friends of God ; 
 For over-gadding they are not shod well. 
 
 Companions of retireinent, they hear 
 
 From Allah's lips the challe7ige high and clear, 
 
 " Ye I am I not your lord ? " One hreath of that. 
 One draught from Heavn's hid love-cup, rich and dear, 
 
 Hath left thetn drunken, till, on Judgment-day, 
 Serdfil blows the trumpet. Threat ye may, 
 
 But edge of sword hearts' hold shall never loosen ; 
 For, loosed — the glass would crack, faith fly aivay. 
 
86 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 DlLAZAE. Your Sdfis sadden me ! not flesh and blood ; 
 Shy, desert-dwelling ! I and Gulbadan 
 Could win from such no lovely gilded shawls, 
 No guln^r-wreaths for neck and arms, no gems, 
 No clusters like to these — (Mirza Saheb, taste !) 
 Which hold the sunshine in their purple skins 
 And make wine lawful. 
 
 Saheb. Shall they fetch you wine ? 
 
 DiLAZAE. No ! No ! except Allah's wild wine of the 
 grape ! 
 We are good Muslim girls ; we do not pour 
 Fierce liquors in our veins as I have heard 
 Feringhi ladies use, to graft, may be, 
 Red roses on the white silk of their cheeks. 
 
 Saheb. Your ladies of great Akbar's court, 'tis said, 
 And Shah Jahan's, sipped the forbidden juice; 
 And Hafiz' Tomb — think, Dilaz^r, of that ! 
 They show us at Shiraz the marble slab 
 Set fair over that dulcet Singer, laid 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 87 
 
 In alabaster 'mid his cypresses, 
 
 All writ with "perfumes and the wine-cup" — prayers 
 For " Minstrels " and the " Daughters of the Grape." 
 DiLAZAR. Oh, yes ! we know ; 'tis mazdah wasl, Sir ! 
 Reach me tamboora, Sister ! it goes thus : 
 
 [^She sings the Tomb-song of Hafiz.] 
 
 " Comes then the message of Thy Love to me, 
 
 Bidding arise ? 
 This bird, my Soul, yearns to be floating free 
 
 In Thy pure skies ! 
 
 " Oh, call me but Thy servant, I will go. 
 
 Glad to be dust ; 
 Higher than all desire of things below 
 
 In Love and Trust ! 
 
 " Pour down upon me from Thy pitying cloud 
 
 Of Mercy fair 
 Thy Eain, that I may blossom from my shroud 
 
 In Heaven's high air ! 
 
! WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 ' And ye, who at my Tomb sit, make no moan ; 
 
 The wine-cups bring ! 
 Bring flowers, and perfumes, and the lute's clear tone. 
 
 And those that sing ! 
 
 ' To send my soul a-tripping gay and fain ; 
 
 Thou, Heart's Delight ! 
 Though I be old, embrace me once again 
 
 For this last nia-ht ! 
 
 " Kisa me a-dying ! make me young once more ! 
 
 Be thyself. Sweet ! 
 That Hafiz, rising soul-reft from Earth's floor, 
 
 Go with glad feet." 
 
 MiEZA. Oh ! tola ! tola ! that was Sufio phrase 
 For wine of Love celestial, and far joys 
 Waiting the Faithful, if they hold true faith ; 
 As he who wooed the maid of Samarkand 
 Whereof our Lord the Poet singeth nest ; 
 
OE, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 89 
 
 l^The MiEZA reads.] 
 
 In Samarkand one loved a Mistress fair ; 
 
 Not speech, hid spoken honey thou would! st swear 
 
 Flowed from her lips. Of leauty so transcendent 
 The Sun spent all his gold to gaze on her I 
 
 The corner-stones of continence were shook 
 Whithersoever her light glance did look ; 
 
 T^ali Allah — oh, by God the Glorious ! 
 Her face for Heavens sweet mercy wise men took. 
 
 When she ivould walk ahrvad the eyes of all 
 Drew after her ensorcelled ! Hearts did fall 
 
 Into her steps and folloio ! lovers longed 
 To huy it with their blood, one hour to call 
 
 The Lady theirs : but this poor Later worst 
 Burned for her ; sent his sad eyes last and first 
 
 After her passing feet, silently glancing ; 
 And so it chanced that, one day, she outburst : 
 
go WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 " Ai Khlra-sar ! Perverse / Dost cast on me 
 Eyes of a hunter ? I am not for thee ! 
 
 No bird thy net can snare ! Vex. me no farther, 
 Or thou shalt taste knife-kiss of enmity ! " 
 
 Then some one spake : " Thou hearest ? let her go ! 
 Choose kinder fair ! I think thou wilt not so 
 
 Assuage thy thirst of heart ; and God forbid 
 Thou shouldst thy life stake on a quest of woe." 
 
 But he — love-maddened, liver- saddened — heard ; 
 Then from his soiol's depths drew this patient word, 
 
 Saying, " Allow ! with wound of sword or knife 
 She lay me corpse, by blood and dust besmeared, 
 
 " Will they not say — midst enemies and friends — 
 ' Here's he that by her liand and dagger ends ? ' 
 
 How to desist I not one whit discern ; 
 Urge not mere living makes Loves death amends ! 
 
V 
 
 OR, THE BOOK OP LOVE. 91 
 
 " Ckidest thou me ? repentance dost thou teach ? 
 Bepent thyself ! 'twere letter than such speech, 
 
 Self-seeker f Nay, lut pardon ! all she doeth 
 Excellent well is done, even if it reach 
 
 " Unto my doom. Oh, I hum every night, 
 Slain, moth-like, hy her eyes ; yet morning light 
 
 Makes me alive with lovely memory 
 Of mush and spice wherewith her hair is plight ! 
 
 " If then, to-day — or any day — / die 
 In my Beloved! s street, when times roll hy, 
 
 And Resurrection-dawn is come, consider 
 My tent to my Beloved! s must be nigh / " — 
 
 Oh, Lover of the girl of Samarkand, 
 
 Shabasli ! in strife of heart droop not the hand I 
 
 Yield nought ! at latest anguish Love attaineth. 
 Sa'di — whom Love slew — here alive doth stand I 
 
92 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Saheb. Well ! Shahash /—but, I wonder, did it please 
 That self-willed dame of Samarkand to know 
 He would be waiting for her, tent all pegged, 
 When great Serafil sets the trump to mouth. 
 And gi'aves are opened ? Must a man in love 
 Never take answer when the answer's " No" ? 
 
 MiEZA. Not if he love as Sa'di meaneth love ; 
 For underneath the scripture this intends 
 A soul set resolute to gain to God. 
 
 Saheb. What say you — being woman — Gulbadan? 
 
 GoLBADAN. Bi-Khuda, Saheb ! I say we are ill-pleased 
 When " No " can kill the seed of Love in men : 
 For " No '' is ofttimes woman's touchstone ; " No " 
 Tries the false Love, but turns with true to " Yes." 
 
 DiLAZAE. There is that story of the maid of Mary 
 Whom one did follow, uttering earnest vows ; 
 " Follow me not ! " quoth she, " there comes behind 
 A woman beautiful as moon of spring, 
 I am but shadow of her face and grace ! " 
 
OR, THE BOOK OP LOVE. 93 
 
 Whereat he turned, and did encounter so 
 A hag of ugliness, zan-i-shaitan. 
 Furious he comes again : "Why didst thou lie, 
 Crook'd Cypress of the grove ? " he cries : but she 
 Laughed, and said lightly, " Lie doth warrant lie ! 
 How couldst thou love me, when upon a ' No,' 
 And promise of some fairer one, thy feet 
 Left following ? " 
 MiEZA. There she answered well, methinks. 
 
 For even to fail of love is dear in Love, 
 Which Sa'di telleth us by what haps next. 
 
 [The MiEZA reads.] 
 
 One, perishing of drouth, even while he died, 
 
 " Ah ! to he drowned ! — how good 1 " mth parched lips 
 
 sighed. 
 " Ajab ! '' a foolish friend returned — " / wonder, 
 Being dead, what matters mouth moisted or dried ? " 
 
94 WITH SA'DI IN THE GAEDEN ; 
 
 The sick man said : " It matters that at hrinh 
 
 Of Death I quaff and quaff, till Life's chin sinJc ! " — 
 
 Yea, Brother ! and, for this all thirsty Lovers 
 Plunge to Love's depths; they know that drowned men 
 
 drinh. 
 
 If thou he lover, grasp her sJdrt ! loose not ! 
 If she say " Die ! " lay life down on the spot ! 
 
 When thy feet pass o'er Hill of Non-existence, 
 Lovely surprises may hecome thy lot. 
 
 At seed-sowing the sower s hearts are fain : 
 But when sheaves ripen they rest well again ! 
 
 In Heaven's high banquet if Cup come to mouth 
 Only at last round, that's the last of pain. 
 
 Saheb. Lofty the teaching is, and fair the verse, 
 Yet, in what world did learned Sa'di live ? 
 Were all his ladies cold and lovers meek 
 As those of Samarkand ? You, Rose-bodied !. 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 95 
 
 Who have the voice — you, dark-browed Dilaz§,r ! 
 Would hardly ask a man to die for you, 
 That somewhere,- on the Hill of Nothingness, 
 " Lovely surprises might become his lot ! " 
 GuLBADAN. Ay-wai ! if we did ask, who would consent 
 To wait for us on that chill Ridge of Death 
 Where no hands clasp, and no lips are to kiss ? 
 DiLAZAE. Were I a man, and loved so, I'd not die 
 Till he was dead who kept her heart from me 
 Or she that so denied it. 
 Saheb. Why, see there ! 
 
 Your black eyes flash with knife-blades ! That's i' the 
 
 blood, 
 To have the form we prize, and burn and rage 
 With jealousy to lose it, or to share. 
 Ask Mirza Hussein how he makes this good ? 
 GULBADAN. Ask for us, Sahiba ! Feringhees know 
 So many books, Aflatiin, Aristu, 
 The windings of the ways of these dim things ; 
 
96 WITH SA'DI IN THE GAEDEN ; 
 
 We are tlie fluttering birds who come to peck — 
 
 At evening, when tlie noisy world is still — 
 
 Crumbs of dropped wisdom. 
 Saheb. Now the Mirza smiles ! 
 
 Yet you, oh. Heart- destroyer ! Dilaz^r ! 
 
 You must have heard and seen what Love I mean 
 
 Imperative, unswerving, desperate, 
 
 Not heedful of sweet Heaven which made things fair, 
 
 Not set to gentle notes of nightingales, 
 
 Not lapped in ruffled rose-leaves ; but still " Love " 
 
 As the world names it, and some women deem. 
 DiLAZAE. I could recall a thing, if my Lords would, 
 
 Such as you say. 
 MiKZA. Yes ! tell it, Dilazar ! 
 
 Sa'di will answer. 
 DiLAZAK. Presences ! we camped 
 
 At Delhi, by the Kashmir gate, for gain 
 
 And marriage-feasts, and doings of the Eed ; 
 
 A Taifah of eleven, with four who played 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 97 
 
 Sitar and drum ; and one was Lakshmi named, 
 
 A brown Mahratta girl of high-caste blood 
 
 (I know not how she came to wear the bells) 
 
 Beautiful — Sirs ! — like yon moon overhead, 
 
 And young, and yet unyielded — by some vow — 
 
 DiHr-i-na sufta, an unthreaded pearl ! 
 
 We were commanded to a Palace-feast 
 
 Where round a gay ring sate the powerful ones, 
 
 Rajahs and Sirdars, in a cloistered court 
 
 Shining with lamps and fountains, and white gleam 
 
 Of marbles glistering ; and your Sahebs were there. 
 
 Proud English officers, with cold blue eyes 
 
 Which look you through and through, and could look down 
 
 The green balls of a panther in his spring — 
 
 One of them, proudest, handsomest ; they said 
 
 He had slain nine in fight, and never yet 
 
 Bent knee to woman ! Lakshml went with us, 
 
 For, girl albeit, she danced as no one else 
 
 That Eas the Deccan favours, with high song 
 
98 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Where Krishna is the cowherd, and pipes sweet, 
 
 And one by one the timid milkmaids trip 
 
 To list, as in Brind^ban once they did ; 
 
 The snake-skin marking every subtle step. 
 
 Our best had played, but no man heeded them, 
 
 Eajah or Sirdar, least of all that Saheb 
 
 For one glance of whose lordliness we strove, 
 
 When Gunesh thumbed the bass Mahratta drum. 
 
 And Lakshml let her chuddur fall, and stepped 
 
 Into the lamp-light, to the dancing-place. 
 
 You would not wonder, Huzoor ! had you seen — 
 
 All started, but the English Captain most. 
 
 He gazed ; played with his sabre-strap ; and gazed ; 
 
 And drew this way and that his golden beard ; 
 
 And clasped his palms, as 'twere some heavenly dream, 
 
 So like a desert-deer she glided near, 
 
 So leaf-soft on the carpets fell her feet. 
 
 So perfect to the music moved her limbs, 
 
 So fair she was and winning, with no gems 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 99 
 
 Bound on her neck, no rings, no belt of gold, 
 Only her yellow choli and gauze skirt 
 And one red lotus in her glossy hair. 
 
 Saheb. But, Dilazlr ! you paint her with Love's brush ! 
 
 DiLAZAE. I have no need ! She was not good to me, 
 Wilful and wayward, with the Deccan blood 
 Which takes and gives not ; yet bewitching, too, 
 A Neem-tree of the trees, a Palm for grace ! 
 Dilhurda — ah ! a girl to steal the heart ! 
 The rest you judge. She set his blood a-flame 
 Before the second measure of the Song, 
 With what the Saheb speaks of, " lightning-love ; " 
 And Lakshmi, like all women, saw and knew 
 As soon as he. So, when she danced his way 
 And finished at his side — with bended head 
 And little rose-dyed hands crossed on her breast — 
 All proud and cold and lordly as he was 
 We saw him loose the golden chain he wore 
 And knit it round her throat, whispering quick praise ; 
 
100 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 While Lakshmi kissed his hands, and from her hair 
 Plucking the lotus laid it at his feet. 
 
 Gltlbadan. Nought hindered, then, that she should give 
 him more ! 
 
 DiLAZAE. Much hindered ; for she hated — (pardon this, 
 My Lord !) — your Saheb Lok. One of her house 
 Perished in days of the great Mutiny, 
 Blown from the cannon's mouth : Lakshml had heard 
 How bold he stood at those black lips of death, 
 And how the red flash leaped, the white smoke swept, 
 And what was living fearless Man became 
 A rolling turban, and torn twisting shreds, 
 Whirled in the bloody dust. Another thing ! 
 Gunesh, who made the music, had her heart. 
 If there beat any heart in that cold breast. 
 Together in one village they had dwelled. 
 Playmates from birth, and promised each to each : 
 Therefore in vain the English Captain prayed. 
 In vain his strong neck bent at Lakshmt's feet ! 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. loi 
 
 Nought won lie with that brown Mahratta maicl 
 By gifts, or words, or honeyed messages, 
 Save " Never ! never ! " from sweet lips set close, 
 And looks from Gunesh fierce enough to kill. 
 
 Saheb. I am ashamed my countryman so stooped ! 
 
 DiLAZAE. Ah, Gharib Purwar ! you have said ; 'twas Fate ! 
 'Twas that wild force which will not let us be ! 
 Your countryman was high and dutiful 
 Till Nuseeb smote him with the dark girl's glance, 
 Then all was nought save Lakshmi. 'Tis our way, 
 Nay ! 'tis our sin, which shall have punishment, 
 To know that this may be, and make it be. 
 
 Saheb. I deem not love so blind, manhood so weak ! 
 
 DiLAZAE. Afsos ! it happens ! He would ride, of nights, 
 Twenty-five koss to see her dance ; would quit 
 His friends, his tasks, the race, the tiger-hunt. 
 If he might snatch one hour at dusk to plead 
 With Lakshmi for her love — yet all in vain. 
 Because of Gunesh, and her vow, and grudge 
 
102 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Stored in her veins against tlie Gora-Lok. 
 But one day came a Sonar, selling stones, 
 Nose-gems and ear-gems, chatkis for the toes, 
 Jasams for elbow-bands, and gate and har, 
 Bala and mala ; and, when all were shown, 
 A string of great picked pearls, and two pearl-moons 
 Wrapped in a cloth. " See ! I unroll you these 
 That you may dream you wear them ! " mockingly 
 He said, and laid the milky luxuries 
 On Lakshmi's knee — " I have a prince will give 
 Rupees six thousand for that beauteous row : 
 Who wears it wears a jaghir round her neck ! " 
 Then Lakshmi's eyes lighted with leopard's gleam. 
 Her small brown eager hands fondled the pearls, 
 Twice round her throat she clasped the string and sighed : 
 " Shiva ! how beautiful ! — would 'twere my Prince ! " 
 And he was by, watching her ache for it. 
 
 Gdlbadan. I guess your story now ! 
 
 DiLAZAE. No ! not its worst ! 
 
OE, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 103 
 
 We were to journey next day northwards — far — 
 But tliat night, tlirougli the lattice of our hut 
 I saw his gold lace glitter, where she sate ; 
 I heard his deep voice shake, while he said this : 
 " Lakshmi ! without your love I shall not live : 
 Take from my soul the spell of those great eyes 
 Or heal their mischief with those flow'r-soft lips ! " 
 But " Denga nahin !" she muttered, " Saheb, no ! 
 My father's brother at the cannon's mouth 
 Had so much love as I will give to thee ! " 
 And then he clinked his spurs, and whispered wild, 
 " Thou wilt not love me ? black Mahratta witch ! 
 Who hast the bosom of Heaven and heart of Hell, 
 Well ! let me buy thee ! " and therewith he flung 
 That milk-white lovely pearl-string in her lap, 
 Which coiled across the velvet skin like snake 
 White-bellied, shining, worming flickering rings 
 Over dusk leaves, and — like the subtle snake — 
 Struck her, and stung that sullen soul with greed. 
 
104 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Saheb. What ! yielded she ? 
 
 DiLAZAE. She had the Deccan itch, 
 
 That strain of Sivaji ! I saw her play 
 
 Wistfully with the pearls ; and then she plucked 
 
 Her temple-flower, the rose-red lotus-bud. 
 
 Forth from her hair, and flung it at his feet 
 
 With petulant quick cry, as once before ; 
 
 And wound the white string back and forth in gleams 
 
 Amid her braids ; and, letting loose the shawl 
 
 Girt round her waist, arose, made low salaam. 
 
 And beckoned him inside the purdah ; still 
 
 Twisting those pearls tight in her untied hair. 
 
 I laughed and slept. 
 
 GULBADAN. Where, then's, ' the worst ' in this ? 
 
 DiLAZAK. Herein ! that Gunesh saw him come and go ! 
 Next dawning, at what hour the ' Wolf's Tail ' sweeps 
 The sky clear of late stars, in his own tent 
 That Saheb lay with proud heart still a-beat. 
 Musing on Lakshmi, and her dear-bought love. 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 105 
 
 'Twas sucli a time as this — you feel how still ! 
 
 Tethered close by the cattle shook their bells ; 
 
 Tou heard them chew the fodder sleepily ; 
 
 Par off the first crow cawed, winging for food ; 
 
 The Dani-i-subh, soft Breath of Morning, shook 
 
 The flag at quarter-guard, and stirred the grass ; 
 
 The tent-cloths flapped, the grey light crept and spread, 
 
 The jackals sniffed the coming day, and yelled : 
 
 A bugle of reveillfee blew ! He rose 
 
 To cool his brow with kiss of morn : lo ! there. 
 
 Face to face, at the entrance of his tent — 
 
 Set on a lance- staff planted in the sand^ 
 
 Was Lakshmi's head ! that rose-red temple-flower 
 
 Keplaced amid her blood-stained braids, those pearls 
 
 Knotted upon her bleeding throat, the eyes — 
 
 Which were so lustrous — glazed and blank, the mouth 
 
 A-grin with Death's ill laughter ! Round the spear 
 
 Fluttered a paper written : " Sahebji / 
 
 You bought her false lips dear ! liave now, beside, 
 
io6 WITH SA'DI IN THE GAEDEN ; 
 
 Ilead, neck, and all ! ivith every hair a curse 
 On her, and you I — Gunesh, the Beccannee." 
 
 Saheb. Aye, so ! And what would Sa'di say of this ? 
 
 MiEZA. Sa'di would say this ^ya3 not Love at all, 
 But bitter Lust, which loves itself, and buys 
 Pleasure for self, at whoso's cost and pain. 
 The true Love riseth from dear Beauty seen — 
 By gentleness, submission, reverence — ■ 
 To larger Beauty unbeheld ; adores 
 The Painter in his picture ; at cup's brim 
 Tastes wine, with heart fixed on the Oup-bearer, 
 Ever made kindly to the sweet thing loved. 
 The false love is, as these of Dilazar, 
 Purious and pitiless in will to have, 
 Mean and unloving in the act to yield, 
 And savage in swift hate of what was prized ; 
 The amouring of beasts that kiss with teeth ! 
 Hear rather wise Lord Sa'di, in this verse 
 Which Cometh from the honeyed Gulistan : 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 107 
 
 \_Th6 MiEZA recites.] 
 
 A Lover, with his loved One, sailed the sea, 
 Voyaging home in tender company : 
 
 There blew a wind of Death upon the waters ; 
 There broke a billow of calamity ! 
 
 It swept them, from the deck to dreadful breast 
 Of the black ocean. To that pair distressed 
 
 The mariners flung forth a plank of rescue ; 
 It reached them drowning on the tossing crest. 
 
 Too slender 'twas to help — if both should hold ; 
 They saw him round the plank her weak arms fold, 
 " G!r ! Dast-i-yar-i-man ! " he uttered softly ; 
 " Clasp ! hands ! dearer than Life to me ! " The cold 
 
 Bitter salt swallowed him. But those who brought 
 His beauteous Maid, saved by that sweet deed wrought, 
 
lo8 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Spake, saying, " Never lived there truer Lover ! 
 Majnun ly such a marvel had been taught ! " 
 
 Saheb. Your Shaikh Muslihu-d-din Shirazi has 
 Fair meditations, Mirza ! does it teach — 
 His " Garden " — why, in our mid hearts, we feel 
 'Twas better for that faithful Lover dead 
 Than for Dilazar's living ? 
 
 MiEZA. Sir ! it doth. 
 
 If we should measure bulk and wealth of bliss 
 As we mete grain or gold dust, he who sank 
 Tasted more perfect pleasure of the soul 
 In that one eager instant's sacrifice, 
 In that last worship of his Well-Beloved, 
 Choking with brine, buying her breath with death, 
 Than Lakshmi's Lover with his evil gift. 
 Oh ! S<ifis know how dearer far than wine 
 The Tavern-Keeper is, how lovelier 
 Than any picture is the Painter's face ! 
 
OEj THE BOOK OF LOVE. 109 
 
 And these two knew it, at whose graves we sit, 
 
 Arjamand, and the Emperor ; who held 
 
 Love dearer than their greatness and their realms. 
 
 Can you sing Mdlik hudam, Gulbadan ! 
 
 If DilazEir takes the Sultana's verse ? 
 
 [Gulbadan sings.] 
 
 I was Sultan of Hind and the mountains ; 
 
 Chenab and Kavee 
 Were mine, from their silver-white fountains 
 
 To the sands of the sea : 
 And Gunga and Jumna, with blisses 
 
 Of Lordship and Line ; 
 Yet I counted them less than thy kisses. 
 
 My Lady divine ! 
 
 [DiLAZAR sings.] 
 
 I had gold robes and greatness, and sweetness ; 
 
 I was queen of the Land ; 
 In my Palace shone pride of completeness ; 
 
 On my lips sate command : 
 
no WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 But the Heart of my Lord was my glory, 
 Not the crown on my brows ; 
 
 And my Garden is green with Love's story, 
 And my Tomb is Love's House ! 
 
 Saheb. Thanks ! Bulbuls of our Eose-grove ! Now what 
 next 
 Will the scroll say ? 
 MiRZA. It turns to constant Faith : 
 
 [TAe MmzA reads.] 
 
 I have a tale of them that go about 
 
 Treading God's road — rich beggars, hings % the clout : 
 
 An old man 'twas, luending at early morning, 
 Who spied a mosque porch, and he raised his shout. 
 
 Then, some one said : " Here's not the People's Door, 
 Where they give anything ; howl thou no more ! " 
 
 The Ancient asked, " Whose is this Mansion, Friend, 
 Where they give nothing to Heavens starving poor ? " 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE, in 
 
 IJe said : " Khamoshi ! hush / s;peak no rash word ! 
 The Master of this house is God the Lord." 
 
 The old man looked ; he saw Lamp and Mihrdh : 
 Forth from his liver this lament he 'poured: 
 
 " Alack, alack ! I will stay here I trow, 
 Alack ! if help hefalleth me not so ! 
 
 I came not forth from any street unpitied, 
 From God's door yellow-faced why should I go ? 
 
 " Hand of entreaty tvill I stretch out here, 
 That it come empty lack I shall not fear." 
 
 Therewith he sate, sojourner, suppliant, 
 Lifting the palm of asking all one year. 
 
 At the year's end his foot of Life went low 
 Into Death's clay ; his heart heat fast and sloiu, 
 
 Drumming Departure's march. One held, a lantern 
 At daylreak, scanning him. Faint as the glow 
 
112 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Of lamp-xvich in the dawning, so his snuff 
 
 Of waning life still iurned ; from loeasand rough 
 
 They heard him murmur : " Oh, at last it opens, 
 God's gateway, if we heat it long enough ! 
 
 " Siveet and submissive he Sis grace to win, 
 I never heard an Alchymist gave in ; — 
 
 Loolc how he melts pure gold in tlv alembic, 
 Tliat one day, peradventure, brass begin 
 
 " To shine forth gold ! And gold is good to spend 
 For fitting ends ; and ivhat were fitter end 
 
 To lavish gold and life and all for buying 
 Tlian God the Lover s love, God's the great Friend ? 
 
 " When by some ravisher of hearts thy heart 
 Is straitened, ivise it were from such to part ; 
 Another will console thee ; unkind faces 
 Render days bitter ! Cool the false fires smart 
 
OE, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 113 
 
 " With dew of fresher lips ! Lightly men quit 
 Love, when light need their spirits have of it ; 
 
 But if She he beautiful past compare, 
 Then, for small griefs to go, that were unfit ! " 
 
 Saheb. I mark how steadfastly Sa'di will lift 
 Passion of Earth to Heayenly : we, too much, 
 Muse upon God as Glorious, Awful, Great, 
 Majestic^ Just, Holy, Inflexible, 
 Forgetting He is Beauty, Sweetness, Joy, 
 Desire, Delight, Fulfilment of all wish. 
 Is it not so ? 
 
 MiEZA. Aye, Saheb ! 'tis so ! JamAl, 
 
 The grace of God — is greater than Jaldl, 
 Glory of God : but at the last these meet 
 In Love shown Power, and Power grown beautiful. 
 Pitiful, reconciling, ridding sins ; 
 As shall be seen in this which follow eth : 
 
114 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN; 
 
 [The MiEZA reads.] 
 
 1 heard that old One, all his night of woe, 
 liaised hand of need to Heaven devoutly so : 
 
 And some voice said again : " Profitless Fool ! 
 " Sar-i-Kwesh gir ! Take thine affairs and go ! 
 
 " Thy prayer is unaccepted at this Boor ! 
 Depart rejected ! troiible peace no more ! 
 
 When thoib hast seen Attentions wicket fastened. 
 Prolong not uselessly a struggle sore ! " 
 
 The tears which trickled down his aged cheek. 
 Sad tinge of hlood while his thin lips did speak : 
 " Ay, Gholam ! hopeless had I turned away 
 And left this House some other house to seek : 
 
 " But if thy friend in wrath from thee doth snap 
 Bridle, wilt thou not seize his saddle-strap ? 
 
 An asker, disappointed at one gateway, 
 Knowing another open hath good hap. 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE 115 
 
 '•' Ye say my way is nowise in this street, 
 Yet nowhere else shines any chance so sweet ; 
 
 Nowhere another Path, nowhere a Portal ! " 
 With that his head u;pon the earth he heat. 
 
 And, suddenly, was whispered — as he died — 
 In his souVs ear, " Son, thou art justified I 
 
 Kabul ast ! 'tis accepted I have thou comfort ! 
 Except in Us no comfort could letide ! " 
 
 Saheb. Yes, but how long he waited ! this is hard ! 
 Sometimes, perchance, we see and know how rich 
 That Unseen Beauty is ; — but Heaven is far 
 And Earth is near ! we beg in the next street, 
 We grasp the skirt of the chance-comer, crave 
 Succour from lips and hands not good to crave, 
 Forgetting God's fair gate ! Somebody gives ! 
 We munch our crust of Love, and live ! What gain 
 To lie and die at door of Allah's house ? 
 
ri5 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN; 
 
 What strength, if there were gain? since night must 
 
 come, 
 And cold and emptiness ? 
 MiEZA. But after night 
 
 The happier day ! Sing him the yar-i-man, 
 Those verses that the glad dead Minstrel writes 
 Of " Death and Darkness," Gulbadan ! and then 
 I will read Sa'di. 
 
 [Gulbadan singsl\ 
 
 Fear not the darkness, Friend and Lover ! 
 
 The fount of Life ariseth there ! 
 Rest comes when hope of Rest is over ; 
 
 I suffered, but am happy here ! 
 
 Consume thou not thy soul with scorning. 
 Because Desire found no allay : 
 
 Soon will there be bright birth of Morning, 
 The Night is far gone with the Day ! 
 
OE, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 117 
 
 MiEZA, True ! had we never seen Day's miracle, 
 Who, looking eastward now of Mumtaz' Shrine, 
 Would dream glad Morning, 'neath yon silent stars, 
 Gathered her saffron sari to trip forth, 
 With sun for forehead-jewel ? Man must wait, 
 And not " for every little let make moan! " 
 This will our Master's verses now impart : 
 
 [The MiEZA reads.] 
 
 A new-wed Bride, in tender discontent, 
 
 To One, grey-haired, made of her Lord lament, 
 
 Saying : " Thy son no praise from thee doth merit. 
 So cold he is, so ill my hours are spent. 
 
 " Those who with us in the same village dwell, 
 I never mark their looks of heart-ache tell ; 
 
 Such close companions, man and woman, are they, 
 That thou might' st say, ' two almonds in one shell / ' 
 
ii8 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 " But I have never seen mine — all this while — ■ 
 Gaze once upon my face with loving smile ! " 
 
 The father, hindly-hearted, heard her speech ; 
 The white-haired one her grief knew to beguile : 
 
 The answer which he gave was soft and sivect, 
 Saying : " He is so comely, it vjcre inect 
 
 To love and wait, enduring till he love thee : 
 'Ticcre pity from sueh path to turn thy feet, 
 
 " Since nowhere in the ivorld coidd any he 
 So dear, so near, so framed for unity." — 
 
 Man ! wilt thou, he petulant with God, 
 Whose reed — if Se were petulant with thee — 
 
 Blots out all writing of thy life ? Obey / 
 
 Be still, and wait for word ivhich He vnll say ! 
 
 The Lord's time is the servants' time; and never 
 Another Lord like Him shall come thy way ! 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 119 
 
 Once my heart burned in pity for a Slave, 
 Who at the selling-place this utterance gave : 
 
 " Ah, Master ! Better hondsman thou mayst find, 
 Bat I no better Master e'er can have ! " 
 
 Saheb. Yet, none the less for tliat Slave's faithfulness, 
 His Master sold him ! 
 
 MiEZA. Yea ! and none the less 
 
 That Love which did forgive and cling to Love 
 Went with the Slave, and made him happier days, 
 
 Or stronger soul to bear the ill days. Sir 
 
 It is not needful Love should win its wish. 
 
 But only needful that it work its work. 
 
 Yon palms grew high striving towards the Sun, 
 
 They shall not reach him, but — uptending thus — 
 
 Leaves, flowers, and fruit have come! Past question, 
 
 here 
 In this world, midway 'twixt the light and dark, 
 Much is to wish and wonder at : hearts play — 
 
;o WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Like Akbar witli his ladies — Hoodman-blind 
 Among the courts and cloisters of our life : 
 They stumble, and they fumble, and go wrong ; 
 Of this, moreover, doth the Master speak : 
 
 [_The MiEZA reads.] 
 
 There dwelled in Marv a Hdkim, angel-faced ; 
 His form, in Garden of the Heart, was graced 
 
 As is the cypress : yet he had not skill 
 To heal sick souls, nor know lohen passion's waste 
 
 Dimmed longing eyes. And some one — ill at heart, 
 Spake afterwards : " I had Love's litter smart 
 For him ! I luished not ever to he well, 
 Zest he should call me cured, and so depart." — 
 
 Much wisdom is there, hard to overthrow, 
 Which Love's strong sorcery can Iring fidl low. 
 
 Hand of light Love, when it holds Wisdom's ear. 
 Makes Sense with muzzle in the dust to go ! 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. i 
 
 DiLAZAR. If 'twere a woman she had surely known ! 
 
 Our sex owns one more sense than yours, my Lords ! 
 
 "lis giv'n that we may read the hearts of men ' 
 
 Through thirty silences. 
 jULBADAN. But did he doubt ? 
 
 There is a verse on that, in two soft parts, 
 
 When first the Lady, next the Lover speaks : 
 
 They sing it in the Afghan towns : 
 3aheb. Sing now, 
 
 Nightingale of the Age ! 
 GrULBADAN. Hazrat ! I shall, 
 
 If Dilazar will tread the step, and say 
 
 The Lady's portion : 
 
 {They sing, and DiLAZAE dancesl] 
 
 jULBADAN. I am sitting in sadness, deep-stricken 
 With a wound that is death, 
 If thou com'st not. Physician ! to quicken 
 
 My soul with thy breath. 
 
X 
 
 123 WITH SA'DI IN THE GAKDEN ; 
 
 Have you seen, have you seen, oli my Brotliers ! 
 
 A Hawk flying south ; 
 Blacker-plumed, brighter-eyed than all others, 
 
 With a heart in his mouth ? 
 
 Ah ! stay him ! 'tis mine, it is mine ! 
 
 He has reft it amain ! 
 I am red with Love's blood, with the wine 
 
 That is pressed from Love's vein. 
 
 DiLAZAR. My Beloved hath breasts like pomegranates ! 
 Her teeth are sea-pearls ! 
 Her eyes shine with splendour of planets ; 
 Like tangled silk curls 
 
 The heart-net enwove by her tresses ; 
 
 I fly with faint feet ! 
 Oh, Allah ! her clinging caresses ! 
 
 Is Thy ' Garden ' so sweet ? 
 
 My Beloved knows not how I love her. 
 
 That the sick one is I ; 
 
 I escape, lest the patient recover. 
 
 And the Hakim should die. 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 123 
 
 MiKZA. Vainly he strives to fly, if it be fate ; 
 And fate comes, good or bad, by woman's hand, 
 As judgment, too, must come by woman's mouth. 
 
 Saheb. Ajah ! how strange ! a priest of Prangestan * 
 Wrote likewise in his glittering French, " That Day — 
 That Judgment-day — the sentences men hear 
 Will be the sentences pronounced on them 
 By women, countersigned of God the Lord.' 
 
 DiLAZAR. Bi-Khiida ! then how I will punish some ! 
 
 GuLBADAN. By great Jibrail ! how sweet to pardon^ then ! 
 
 MiEZA. Oh, but you also shall be then adjudged ! 
 Our Lord the Prophet (peace be unto him !) 
 Recorded that of perfect womankind 
 Were never more than four — Asia the Queen 
 King Pharaoh's wife ; Khadijah, P^tima ; 
 
 * "En somme, j'ai ^t^ aimd des femmes dont il m'importait le plus 
 d'etre aim^. . . , Ma part a dt^ bonne et ne me sera pas enlevee ; car je 
 m'imagine souvent que les jugements qui seront port^s sur ohacun de 
 nous dans la valine de Josapliat ne seront autres que les jugements des 
 femmes, contresign^ par I'Bternel." — Renan, "Souvenirs d'Enfance et de 
 Jeunesse," p. 361. 
 
124 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 And the Lord Isa's mother, Mariam. 
 But now will Sa'di warn ye in his verse 
 How hard to conquer is misguiding Love : 
 
 [The MiEZA reads.] 
 
 Was one that trained his sinews, day and night, 
 Meaning to grapple with a Lions might ; 
 
 He found his Lion — grappled — hut he found 
 Scant strength, in such a deadly grip, to fight. 
 
 Quoth one who ivatched, " Bost sleep ? art woman grown ? 
 Strike hijii that How of trass thou mad'st thine own ! " 
 
 " Alas ! it is not possible thereby 
 To conquer Lions ! " — so they heard him moan. 
 
 With Wisdom — when False Love puts forth command, 
 'Tis as that Lion, and that huntei-'s hand/ 
 
 No iron-grasp shall help thee, ivoman-weah : 
 Love's bat drives Reasons ball from stand to stand. 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 125 
 
 Saheb. I see not Sa'di puts the case of him 
 Who loves aright, yet is not loved, and finds 
 No love elsewhere : for, surely, hard to tread 
 The heavenward way is, if no guide will lead. 
 Here in your East, you set the problem by 
 With marriage-brokers ; or mate baby-hearts, 
 Which grow by stress of years and circumstance 
 To suit and fit like two nuts in one shell ; 
 But in our West, where all are free to choose. 
 This pinches ! One we honour for his songs — 
 Greater than Sa'di's self* — asks wistfully: 
 " Of Love that never found, Ms earthly end 
 What sequel ? streaming eyes and broken hearts ? 
 And all the same as if it had not been ? " 
 
 MiEZA. Nought is the same " as if Love had not been ! " 
 Where it hath shone it is like sunlight poured ,' 
 
 On seeds which slept, surprising naked soil 
 Into new verdure, and an unhoped Spring. 
 
 * Lord Tennyson. 
 
 J 
 
126 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Nor 'scape we, by our Eastern ways, those griefs 
 Springing from liberty. Yet reason tells 
 Who would be loved must needs show loveable, 
 Otherwise is he like that man of Eesht 
 Whose honey none would buy in all the town. 
 
 Saheb. What man was he ? 
 
 GuLBADAN. I know whom Mirza means ! 
 
 Play, Dilazar ! the tune goes : " Was a maid : " 
 
 [GuLBADAN sings.] 
 
 Was a maid sold honey-comb, 
 
 Sweeter ran her tongue than honey ; 
 
 Sweet, indeed, as sugar-reed ; 
 
 Buyers flocked to her with money : 
 
 If 'twere poison she had cried, 
 
 All the town had bought and died ! 
 
 One of bitter heart and face 
 
 Marked her custom, envied her ; 
 
 He'd sell honey in her place, 
 
 Gain the dirhams, cause the stir ! 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE, 127 
 
 With his honey-pots he went 
 And his looks of ill-content. 
 
 Up and down the thronged bazaar 
 
 Still he shouted, " Come and buy ! " 
 But he found no customer, 
 
 Not so much as one blue fly. 
 Some one spake at evening's hour, 
 " Sour mouth maketh sweetness sour ! " 
 
 MiEZA. Aye, girl ! hearts must unchurl themselvesfor this ! 
 And Sa'di truly saith, in what ensues. 
 There is no power in Love Love to command : 
 
 [The MiRZA reads.] 
 
 Hot always Love breeds Love ! Two cozisins wedded, 
 Two sun-brigJit ones, — luith wealth and high race steaded ; 
 
 For her to call him Lord befell divinely, 
 For him 'twas shams and shamming, since they bedded. 
 
 She shoived all gentilesse and tender grace ; 
 He to the wall turned constantly Ms face ; 
 
128 WITH SA'Dl IN THE GAEDEN ; 
 
 She decked herself for joy of love and living, 
 He asked for death rather than her enibrace. 
 
 The village elders summoned him ; they spake : — ■ 
 " Thy heart is not towards her ! let her take 
 
 Bowry and go ! " He laughed : " Five score of sheep 
 No loss were, if deliverance those woitld make." 
 
 She of the Pari-eyebrows flayed her cheek 
 
 With her own nails. She cried : " How will ye speak 
 
 Of gain to me hy ruin ? Can I suffer 
 Life without Love ? Cease ye from him to seek 
 
 " A hundred, or six hundred thousand head ! 
 All shares are poor except L share his hed."- — ■ 
 
 And, good sooth ! that which hindeth hearts together 
 Ls heart's-ease ; otherwise the end is said ! 
 
 Saheb. What end ? 
 
 MiKZA. The end that Allah ordereth 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 129 
 
 For little hath Love taught unless it teach 
 Submission. Hear this next verse of the Ishk : 
 
 [The MiEZA reads.] 
 
 A certain man inquired of one who lay 
 Soul-strichen on the Mosque-^oor, " Dost thou pray 
 
 For Life or Death ? " He answered, "I ask nothing ! 
 What He adjudges I accept alway." 
 
 MiEZA. Yet when it falls that each in the other finds 
 True shadow of the Heavenly Light, sure sound 
 Of Sama', Allah's music, — then, no fate 
 Will part those souls, nor make them two for one. 
 'Tis Laila and Majniin ; — Laila who laughs 
 Before the Sultan, saying : " Lord of Lords ! 
 If thou wouldst know how beautiful I am 
 Look on me through the eyes of my Majnun ! " 
 And Majnun, proud and certain in his pain, 
 Who will not ever suffer that men deem 
 
130 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN; 
 
 The desert leagues can separate tteir souls ; 
 Will send no tidings to his Lady's ear, 
 As if lie lived not always in her breast. 
 
 [The MiEZA reads.] 
 
 One to Majnun spake : " Oh, of noblest lot ! 
 What falleth that to Sayy thou comest not ? 
 
 Thy love for Laila, peradventure, passes ; 
 Thy fancy turns ; thy heart no more is hot." 
 
 He heard, the hapless one, and, weeping, said : 
 " Good Sir, let go iny shirt ! Love is not dead ! 
 
 I have the same heart, sorrowful and Heeding, 
 Pour not thy salt upon its wounds, still red ! 
 
 " Thus to he severed is not to forget, 
 
 Jfor absence fault, when Fate decreeth it." 
 
 Quoth t'other, " Ah, most faithful one and gentle 
 Utter some errand on my tongue to set 
 
 I 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 
 
 " For Laila from Majnun." He answered : "Bear 
 No message in my name to her most dear I 
 
 To sfeak as we were twain, and I not she, \ 
 Is treason ; — where she is I, too, am there." _J 
 
 Saheb. Why, such a lover might on moonbeams live ! 
 And, see ! how tenderly they silver now 
 Arjamand's Dome ! How black the cypresses 
 Eange in still ranks against the milk-white walls ! 
 How stately soar the arrowy minarets 
 From yon dark garden where the Bird of Night 
 Trills the same love-lament a hundred times 
 To the hushed Rose, not tired of listening. 
 While crickets chirrup — as we chatter here — 
 With little voice which lives where Kings lie dumb ! 
 If now we might but see Mumtaz the Queen 
 Pace in her Pleasaunce, strayed from Paradise 
 With beauty perfected — as Sa'di sings — 
 With eyes grown wise by what Death teaches Love, 
 
132 WITH SA'DI IN THE GAEDEN ; 
 
 Witli robes, splendid, but airy like these mists 
 Rolling o'er Jumna ; and, beside her, him, 
 The King that had the lordly loving mind, 
 Happy, majestic ! Hussein ! is it true 
 That Shah Jahan never felt any wish 
 Apart from Arjamand ? that, all those years, 
 Master of all the loveliness of Hind, 
 The Imperial Lover only lived for her ? 
 MiEZA. They tell this story of Queen Arjamand : 
 So fair she was, so debonnair, so wise. 
 The heart of Shah Jahan slept in her lap : 
 Her mouth issued the King's decrees, her hands 
 Gave provinces away, and great commands. 
 No night but at her feet the Emperor 
 Laid down his cap of Lordship and his sword 
 To take soft counsel from her faithful lips. 
 Which many grudged, and most those other ones 
 The Afghan Lady — she that hath her grave 
 In the Kandhari Bagh — and Zan-i-Noor, 
 
OR, THE BOOK 0¥ LOVE. 133 
 
 Grandchild of Abdurrahim, Prince of tlie Blood : 
 " If we could turn His Majesty," said these, 
 " Prom Mumtaz, that were well wrought for the State, 
 Whose banner is become a Persian shift ! 
 Mashallah ! will nought dull those dazzling eyes ? " 
 And some one whispered : " Best find newer eyes 
 More dazzling, killing passion with its like ; 
 Since one love-chamber have these hearts of men, 
 And she who enters thrusts the other forth. 
 There is that slave-girl, come from Jessulmere, 
 A brown pearl of the Prophet's Paradise, 
 Wondrously fair — as none e'er saw : give word 
 They deck her with the garments of Mumtaz, 
 And hang the Queen's pearls round her throat, and bring 
 The Kajpootni into the Queen's own room 
 When she is gone — so may my Lord the King 
 Be tenderly beguiled, and Mumtaz scorned." 
 And this the Palace Ladies swore was good. 
 Saheb. Surely, 'twas perilous ? 
 
134 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 MiEZA. Hazrat ! the girl 
 
 Knew — for they told her — she must die, or gain 
 Life, and long favour, and large wealth in gold, 
 At moment when her veil should drop, and show 
 Full moonlight of her face. To reign, see you, 
 First in that Court, to win the eyes of him 
 Who ruled upon the " Peacock-throne," and stretched 
 Hands of command from Balkh to Himalay, 
 Was worth some risk, it seemed, of fierce farrash.* 
 Therefore — half-willing, half constrained — she sate, 
 Trembling, upon the silks of Mumtaz' bed. 
 In vestments of the beauteous Queen, her face 
 Wrapped in the golden chuddur. Oh, 'tis known 
 What fell, because a Palace maiden heard — 
 Listening outside the marble jali-work — 
 And told it, word for word, to Arjamand. 
 
 DiLAZAR. Good Mirza ! what befell ? 
 
 MiEZA. The Sultan came 
 
 * The Executioner, 
 
OR, THE BOOK OP LOVE. 135 
 
 Clad in his private dress — white muslin clasped 
 With one great pearl, white cap and jewelled shoes — 
 And, throwing down his scimitar and shawl, 
 Spake with a gentle smile : " Light of my Life ! 
 Once more I shut the great loud world away 
 And come to reign in this one realm I love, 
 The heart of Mumtaz ! " Rose the Rajpootni, 
 All quaking underneath her rich disguise. 
 And bent full lowly to the King of Hind, 
 And kissed his feet ; — then, let her chuddur fall. 
 And — lo ! it was not Mumtaz there ! his Queen ! 
 But that strange, lovely, frightened girl, with throat 
 Heaving, eyes gleaming, hands on bosom clasped, 
 Who murmured : " Lord of all the world ! thy slave 
 Waiteth thy will that she may live or die." 
 
 GuLBADAN. Doubtless he drew his blade, and slew her there ! 
 
 Saheb. He was a man, 'tis writ, of gravity ; 
 Nice in his pride, terrible in his wrath, 
 I shudder, Mirza ! for your slave-maiden. 
 
136 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 MiEZA. Good Sir ! you do not know how fair she was ! 
 Otherwise who had ventured ? On his lips 
 Ended even in beginning those dread words 
 Which leaped from royal anger. At mid rage 
 The charm unspeakable of that sweet slave, 
 The glory of the body of her bare 
 Melted his mounting fury ! Allah makes 
 Sometimes a face and form to smite man's soul 
 With witchery of subtlest symmetry, 
 And she was such ! That Lady of the Taj 
 Owned not such lustrous orbs, nor could have shown 
 Stature so cypress-like, such arms, such limbs. 
 Such eloquence of beauty, touched by fear 
 Into bewitching grace. Nay ! and she marked 
 The first wrath in the Sultan's countenance 
 Flicker and pass as flame doth pass away 
 When rain falls on the sparkling of a brand : 
 So gently dropped upon his mind the rain 
 Of wonder, pity, will of gentilesse : 
 
OB, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 137 
 
 And, when she sank upon her face, and sobbed, 
 
 " Lord of the Age ! forgive me ! send me hence 
 
 Alive ! I was not told how great thou art. 
 
 How terrible ! how base and bold my deed ! " 
 
 He raised the Eajpoot girl, gazed on her face 
 
 With softening eyes, and, while her heart beat quick, 
 
 Touched — with strange tremble of his hands — her 
 
 hair, 
 Her brows, her ears : then, conquering himself, 
 Spake : " Get thee hence alive ! Fairest thou art 
 Of Allah's works ; and I — I am a man, 
 Albeit Lord of men and Shah Jahan ; 
 Yet one thing fairer is than even thou, 
 And sweeter far for me to have and keep, 
 The faith I held and hold to her whose name 
 Thou art not meet to hear ! Rajpootni ! see, 
 I close mine eyes, not longer to behold 
 Thy beauty, lest it tempt my rebel blood 
 To traitorousness like thine. Begone ! begone ! 
 
138 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Before I look again ; for I shall slay, 
 
 Or I shall love, and both, were deeds indign ! " 
 
 Saheb. Eight royal ! and nowise of the Mogul type, 
 As I have read. What next befell that slave. 
 With respite of eye-wink ? 
 
 MiEZA. She glided forth, 
 
 Seeking escape ; but those that heard the words 
 And saw all done, laid hands on her and haled 
 The weeping maid to angry Arjamand, 
 Decked as she was in the Queen's cloth of gold, 
 Wearing the Palace-pearls, ungirt, new-bathed, 
 Painted, and henna-stained, and scented sweet. 
 They told what passed, and how the Sultan spake. 
 She cowering at the proud Sultana's foot. 
 
 DiLA2AE. Then the Queen stabbed her to the heart — ■ 
 was't not ? 
 Straight to the heart ! Wallah ! I would have stabbed ! 
 
 MiEZA. Then the Queen drew the dagger from her waist, 
 A knife of watered steel, haffced with jade, 
 
OE, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 139 
 
 And on the hilt a ruby worth three lakhs, 
 Pigeon-blood colour, marvellous, the gift 
 Of Shah Jahan" in some soft hour of love — 
 An unmatched stone. And, when they looked to see 
 The keen point pierce the panting satin skin 
 Stripped of its veil — Arjamand stooped and placed 
 The dagger-blade beneath her sandal, snapped 
 The bright steel short, and, drawing near to hers 
 That Eajpoot's face, kissed tenderly her mouth. 
 And gravely spake : " Go ! thou hast given to me 
 The richest, best, last gift which Earth could give 
 In comfort of my great Lord's constancy. 
 Take thou this jewel of my dagger. Friend ! — 
 Nowise its point ! — and a Queen's thanks therewith 
 For treason dearly done to Arjamand ! " 
 
 So passed the Eajpoot, rich and scatheless, thence. 
 
 Saheb. Sweeter her memory seems for that one deed 
 
I40 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Of loftiest clemency than for her face 
 Of heavenly charm, or for her sovereignties, 
 Or fame, or tomb ! How think you, Gulbadan ? 
 GuLBADAN. My Lord ! I marvel, and admire ! but this 
 Is like strange golden fruit grown on tall trees 
 In other gardens than where Nautchnees live ! 
 They will not think we have the right to love 
 Such lovely things and thoughts. They do not give 
 Even a heart to us whose portion is 
 To sing, and dance, and be desirable, 
 For daily bread. Ask Mirza Hussein else ! 
 The Mohsinat, the women who are wed, 
 The proud and happy ones with faces veiled, 
 For them, born on the lap of Eectitude, 
 Is comfort here, and after — Paradise ; 
 But for us contumely and after — Hell. 
 I know it, for the MoUah read to me 
 Sura the Twenty-Fourth, intituled " Light," 
 And therefore 'tis not meet you ask of us 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 141 
 
 If Arjamand wrought well : only I feel 
 
 One might do queenly deeds, nurtured a queen. 
 
 DiLAZAE. Will the Saheb think none but a queen doth 
 such ? 
 I knew a singing -girl with soul as largo 
 As Arjamand's, if I might tell of it. 
 
 Saheb. Calamity of hearts ! If Hussein please, 
 Kecite your story. 
 
 DiLAZAE. Oh, my Lord ! 'tis brief! 
 
 We journeyed with a company to play 
 Two rains ago ; and she I tell you of. 
 Our chiefest singer, took the road with us ; 
 A Bird of Women — pleasant, patient, bright. 
 With eyes our hard lives never once made bold : 
 A common girl I say — born to the bells. 
 But gentle, winsome, so that wayfarers, 
 Seeing her face, would cry " God go your Friend ! " 
 " Khud§,wand Hafiz ! Sister, with the smile ! " 
 And shy things of the jungle and the grove 
 
142 WITH SA'DI IN THE GAEDEN ; 
 
 Had never dread of Her — crows, mynas, doves — 
 
 But perked and pecked, close to iier feet, unfeared. 
 
 So fell it that we rested on our path, 
 
 Eating and drinking by a forest-pool ; 
 
 And hard by camped some Brahmans, pilgriming 
 
 To Muttra, women, children, householders. 
 
 Rich folk and proud. But while we tarried there — 
 
 Those high- caste people holding far aloof 
 
 From taint of us — one small brown baba left 
 
 Its mother's breast, a little naked maid 
 
 Two years of age, maybe : wilful she crept 
 
 Across the sand, and found our Singing-girl, 
 
 And nestled to her heart, cooing soft sounds, 
 
 And winding in between her arms, the way 
 
 Young birds have when they reach the wings they love. 
 
 You are too great to know or care for this. 
 
 But women melt to touch of baby hands. 
 
 And she was fondling, lulling this soft friend 
 
 Who knew the sweetness of her soul as bees 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 143 
 
 Know where the honey hides in jungle-flowers, 
 When near at hand, the angry mother spied. 
 And ran, and snatched her babe away, and screamed : 
 " Poison it not, thou woman of bazaars ! 
 With thine accursed lips and arms for hire ; 
 Give me my babe, and get thee to thy trade. 
 Which hath no good, nor grace of children's love ! " 
 And we were wroth and would have fallen on them ; 
 But she, the Mild-faced, laughed, and said, " Let be ! 
 The Brahman mother hath much right to scorn ! " 
 
 GuLBADAN. Sister ! I cannot think the Presences 
 Will care to hear. 
 
 Saheb. Now, Gulbadan, be still ! 
 
 If you are weary, sleep ! 
 
 DiLAZAE. They took the road ; 
 
 And afterwards we followed, when tbe Sun 
 Made longer shadows. At a lonely spot 
 Where Imri trees grew round a tank, thick-set 
 With rocks, and one white Temple by the tank — 
 
144 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Ill-named for savage beasts, a place of fear— 
 
 We hear loud cries. The Brahman father runs 
 
 Shouting to those with us, "Ah, Friends ! your spears ! 
 
 Your tulwars ! Shiva, Shiva ! help us, help ! " 
 
 Then, when his breath was fetched, the good man told — 
 
 Sorely lamenting — how his wife had laid 
 
 Her sleeping baby in that Temple-yard 
 
 While at the tank they bathed ; and how, half- washed. 
 
 They marked a great gaunt Tigress from the wood 
 
 Stalk forth, and sniff the Temple-steps, and pass 
 
 Into the Temple-court ; and there she couched 
 
 Watching the infant yet asleep, if yet 
 
 It slept in that most dreadful company, 
 
 Since none could see or know ; nay, all were fled 
 
 For life's sake ; only, in a peepul tree, 
 
 Hard by the shrine, a camel-man had climbed, 
 
 And he was calling " Haste ! if ye would aid ! 
 
 The beast is not yet hungered, and she plays, 
 
 Licking her jowls, curling her tail : she lies 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 145 
 
 Eyeing the babe, which doth not move : oh, 
 haste ! " 
 
 Saheb. Note, Gulbadan ! how well this tale is told : 
 Why should you draw your sari o'er your face ? 
 Are you not trembling for the pretty maid ? 
 Would God I had been there, rifle in hand ! 
 
 DiLAZAR. That had been death, Protector of the Poor ! 
 To the sleeping child. At any show of arms 
 The beast had leaped upon the prey it watched 
 Across that Temple-court. There was one hope — 
 To come between the Tigress and the child 
 Before its mood changed, while it surmised still 
 Some trap, some mischief in its sleeping food — 
 This we knew, and the Singing-girl, and all ; 
 But how to come ? 
 
 Gulbadan. Why will you still go on, 
 
 Dear Dilazar ? 
 
 MiRZA. The peril frightens her ; 
 
 It troubles me ! 
 
 K 
 
146 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Saheb. Nay ! but the way to save 
 
 That helpless child ? I cannot find a way ! 
 
 DiLAZAE. This common woman could ! I heard her say, 
 " The baby is my baby of the mom 
 Who wound its arms about my neck, and kissed 
 My mouth with innocent lips ! See ! I will go 
 And take my friend forth from the Tiger's mouth 
 If God shall please ! And if He shall not please 
 Why, 'tis a Singing-girl the brute will eat, 
 And not that tender one, born to live pure.'' 
 So, ere a hand could stay her, she had drawn 
 The sari tight between her knees, and walked. 
 With those kind eyes fixed hard upon the beast, 
 Straight to the spot — had stooped — had gathered close 
 The silent child against that heart which beat 
 Fearless of fear— had reached the steps again. 
 Steadfastly eyeing always those fierce eyes 
 That glared and sparkled, blazing rage and dread. 
 Her face always full-turned to that fell face 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 147 
 
 CusMoned upon spread paws, yet stirring not ; 
 For, Sirs ! as God is God, the love of it, 
 The greatness of it, and the suddenness — 
 Which, as I do perceive, hold now yonr minds — 
 Lay on that snarling, bristling beast of blood, 
 A spell and wonder which it could not burst 
 For all the savage pantings of its strength : 
 And she had gained the porch, the outer steps, 
 Ere, with a roar as when the thunder cracks 
 A black-bound cloud, mad to be free and safe 
 From the sweet terror of those mastering eyes. 
 The Tigress bounded though the air — a flash 
 Of living lightning — passed the porch, one claw 
 Striking the girl, tearing her choli down. 
 But oh ! a skin- wound only ! for the beast 
 Sought quick escape ; and safe she came to us 
 Clasping the babe, red with her gentle blood ; 
 And so the mother took her infant back 
 A gift from the Bazaar-girl ! 
 
148 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Saheb, Gulbadan — 
 
 As we may juclge from her averted head — 
 Hardly believes you ! 
 
 DiLAZAK. Well ! she doubts herself 
 
 If she doubts that bold deed. Look, Sirs ! I turn 
 The choli from her shoulder ; there's the seal 
 The Tigress stamped upon it — for 'twas she ! 
 
 \_Both the men rise, and make salutation to Gulhadan.] 
 
 MiEZA. Afrin ! Girl ! an old man honours thee ! 
 While I have thought to play the teacher here, 
 Eeciting Ishk, and all our Siific lore, 
 And how men pass from low to high, and learn 
 From Love to conquer love of self, and come 
 Nearer to Him, the Friend, who is Love's self, 
 Here is a Singing-girl turns my last page 
 And teacheth Sa'di ! Gulbadan ! Salaam ! 
 
 Saheb. Dear Gulbadan ! brave, loving Gulbadan! 
 
OE, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 149 
 
 Salaam ! if Agra only owos the thing, 
 
 Or has a sonar working worthily, 
 
 You shall have such an armlet for that arm — 
 
 Which bears its red wound like a Rose of God — 
 
 Of tiger-claws set in fine gold, to make 
 
 The whole gay taifah envious of you ! 
 
 Is't true ? did those eyes stare a Tigress down ? 
 
 Did that brown satin wrist and little hand 
 
 Forbid the man-eater her bloody meal ? 
 GuLBADAN. I did it, Saheb 1 for the baby's sake 
 
 Who loved me so, unasked. It was not hard ! 
 
 I was afraid — the beast was more afraid ! 
 
 It would have leaped, but had not time to think. 
 Saheb. I think, if Arjamand and Shah Jahan 
 
 Walked in their Garden — as we said — to-night. 
 
 The Queen would give another such a gem 
 
 As that great ruby of the hilt, to you ! 
 
 And if the Sultan heard this Ishk with us, 
 
 I think that he would say, " Where in my Hind 
 
ISO WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Lives lie had dared for manhood and for me — 
 Though he knew Sa'di as wise Hussein knows — 
 What for a baby's kiss your Singing-girl 
 Did and forgot, till Dilazar's light tongue 
 Fetched the sweet truth forth, as the honey-bird 
 Pecks nectar from the tight-shut trumpet flower ? " 
 Eight-learnfed Friend ! is not this also Love 
 As true as Maj nun's ? 
 
 MiRZA. Yea, Sir ! Love to praise ! 
 
 To ponder, worship, wonder at, and thank — 
 By the perspicuous Book! — for nobleness 
 Which yields us high example, and makes plain 
 Life is a little gift when Love bids " give ! " 
 
 DiLAZAE. Oh, Sister ! hanging down your head for shame 
 Like yonder rose heavy with early dew, 
 To hear these Presences ! Now is your face 
 Made white, shy Rose ! but I — if I have leave — 
 Will be your Bulbul, since there comes to mind 
 A little song Lord Sa'di made for this. 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 151 
 
 [DiLAZAE si7igs.'\ 
 
 A Drop of Rain was falling from forfcL. a summer cloud, 
 It saw the ocean under it roll billows large and loud ; 
 And, all-ashamed and sore-dismayed, it whispered " Woe 
 
 is me ! 
 By Allah ! I am nought ! what counts one Kain-drop 
 
 to the Sea?" 
 
 But while it mocked and mourned itself — for littleness 
 
 forlorn — 
 Into a sea-shell's opened lips the Drop of Rain was 
 
 borne, 
 Where many a day and night it lay, until at last it grew 
 A lovely Pearl of lucent ray, faultless in form and hue ; 
 
 And God our Lord, who knoweth best how sea-fish 
 make His gem. 
 
 Caused those that dive to bring it up ; — so in the diadem 
 
 Of Persia's King they set that Pearl, and so the Rain- 
 drop came 
 
 To be a Sultan's pride and wealth, a Jewel of great 
 name ! 
 
152 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 In that it fell, for loftiness that Eain-drop was de- 
 signed ; 
 
 It rose to majesty and worth, because of modest mind ! 
 
 Oh Sadi! here thou singest sooth! Who waits at 
 Door of Fate 
 
 With lowly heart and humble voice finds unexpected 
 state. 
 
 MiKZA. True, Friends ! it is not station, birth, nor wealth. 
 Nor power, nor learning, lends us grace to grow 
 A Pearl upon the Neck-string of the Friend ! 
 And this next lesson will the Ishk impart : 
 
 [The MiEZA reads.] 
 
 They mocked the Sovereign of Ghaznln: one saith, 
 " Ay as hath no great beauty, hy my faith ! 
 
 A Base that's neither rosy-red nor fragrant. 
 The Bulbul's love for such astonisheth ! " 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 153 
 
 This went to MahmudJs ears ; ill-pleased he sate, 
 Bowed on himself, reflecting : then to that 
 
 Beplied : " My love is for Ms kindly nature, 
 Not for his stature, nor his face, nor state ! " 
 
 And I did hear how, in a rocky dell, 
 Bursting a chest of gems a camel fell : 
 
 King Mahmud waved his sleeve, permitting plunder. 
 But spurred his own steed onward, as they tell. 
 
 His horsemen parted from their Lord amain. 
 Eager for pearls, and corals, and such gaiyi : 
 
 Of all those neck-exalting courtiers 
 None except Ayaz near him did remain. 
 
 The King looked hack — "How many hast thou won. 
 Curled comfort of my heart ? " ITe answered "None ! 
 
 I galloped up the pass in rear of thee ; 
 I quit thee for no pearls beneath the sun ! " 
 
154 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Oh, if to God thou hast propinquity, 
 For no wealth heedless of Sis service be ! 
 
 If Lovers true of God shall ash from God 
 Aught except God, that's infidelity ! 
 
 If thine eyes fix on Uny gift of Friend 
 Thy gain, not his, is thy desires end : 
 
 If thy mouth gape in avarice, Heaven's message 
 Unto Heart's ear hy that road shall not wend. 
 
 Saheb. I see it is not willed that Love should gain, 
 Nor pay itself with pleasure, nor sit soft 
 On this world's carpets, drinking wine of ease. 
 But, all in drawing closer to the " Friend' 
 (Your Sufic word) — the Cup-bearer — forego 
 Those passing pearls and corals of Life's chance, 
 The plunder of the camel's broken chest. 
 For glory of far greater joys, for bliss 
 Of sacrifice, for ecstasy of death 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 135 
 
 Which bnys for the Beloved life, for meed 
 
 To hear the Sultan of all Sultans say, 
 
 " Curled Darling of my heart ! " as He shall say 
 
 To those who rode near to His Flag of Love 
 
 All through Earth's gloomy pass, unwavering, 
 
 Disdaining profit. Learned Mirza ! so 
 
 Your Ishk comes, by its Persian road of palms 
 
 And nightingales, and roses, and soft verse, 
 
 To that same Syrian Hill whose slopes austere 
 
 Heard our Lord Isa speak : " T say to you, 
 
 Love ye your enemies ! Be in your love 
 
 Perfect, as is your Father Who is Love ! 
 
 Talce no thought for your life: the Kingdom first ! 
 
 God's Kingdom first ! God's righteousness ! and then 
 
 Other things shall he added ! " And, it comes — 
 
 Your SMc Ishk, with " Oup " and " Cup-bearer," 
 
 Down all these garden-paths — to that green tree 
 
 Whereunder sate my Buddha, when he taught 
 
 Ahinsa, and the Law of Love and Peace, 
 
156 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 The " Noble Truths " and high Nirvana's word. 
 Only, I find not that your Prophet prized 
 This doctrine of the all-embracing Love, 
 Gentle to enemies, submissive, sweet, 
 Foregoing, and forgiving : seeking bliss 
 In gift, and gain by loss, contemning self, 
 Heedless of safety in the lust to save. 
 Like our good Gulbadan, who from that beast 
 Eedeemed imperiously the babe she loved, 
 Terrible in her tenderness of heart, 
 Stronger than death — all by Love's sorcery, 
 The Jadoo of your Ishk ! 
 MiEZA. Allah assoil 
 
 The boldness of thy tongue, dear Friend ! there lacks 
 
 Nothing hereof to the Perspicuous Book : 
 
 But when our Lord (on whom be peace !) received 
 
 Jibr8,irs message, 'twas to his own race — 
 
 The lean, fierce, desert-seasoned Bedaween — 
 
 This came ; and it was very meet God's word 
 
OE, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 157 
 
 Should fall in thunder on their ears, not songs ; 
 
 Should scourge to rightfulness with Hell's khamseen, 
 
 Not lure them thither with sweet airs of Heaven. 
 
 And, for the rest, our holy Koran saith : 
 
 " Allah hath given to every land its Book, 
 
 Its Prophet to each people." 
 Saheb. Ah ! your Hell — 
 
 Al-Zakhum' s ghastly fruit ! the " Shoes of flame " ! 
 
 Al Hotama, where sinful Christians roast ! 
 
 How fits th' Eternal Love, the " Friend," with those ? 
 Mtrza. Tdba ! Saheb, tola ! Ibn-us-Sammak spake 
 
 The master-word hereon : " Fear God, oh Man ! 
 
 As though not once thou had'st obeyed His word ; 
 
 And trust the Love of God, oh Man ! as though 
 
 Thou never once had'st disobeyed His laws ! " 
 Saheb. But why make bloody tigers and sly snakes ? 
 
 The evil things and ugly of this Earth ? 
 
 What place have such, if all is God and Love ? 
 MiEZA. Tigers are not so murderous as men 
 
158 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Arrayed in battle, or by hate inflamed ; 
 
 Nor snakes as sly and deadly. For ill-looks 
 
 Each to his kind shows fair. We have heard here 
 
 Your MoUahs of the West hold Adam's sons 
 
 Sprung of the sea-slug, and, by apish sires, 
 
 Down through slow shapings of the bone and brain, 
 
 Developed from the savage to the sage ; 
 
 So might you, surely, with more patience wait 
 
 Fixed working-out of steadfast primal plans 
 
 In beast and serpent, poison-bag and fang ! 
 
 For us it is enough that Allah's will 
 
 Found them their place and purpose in His World ; 
 
 And 'tis of this the Ishk now witnesseth : 
 
 [Tlie MiEZA reads.'] 
 
 Philosophy goes many a windiTig road, 
 
 Now here she turns — now there— on ways re-trod ; 
 
 For Lovers of the Friend straight leads the pathway, 
 They see and Jcnoiv and seek nothing save God ! 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 159 
 
 This is a plain thing unto all with eyes, 
 But Doctors of Dispute hold otherwise : 
 
 " The Sky and Earth," they ask, " tke-sons of Adam, 
 Birds, Beasts, and Snakes, how wilt thou such comprise ? " 
 
 Yea ! Ahl-i-Kiyds ! learned masters, yea / 
 'Tis an approved knot this which ye say: 
 
 If answer he permitted, Sa'di answers, 
 " He is in all things, and hy Him are they ; 
 
 " The plains, the seas, the mountain, and the mist, 
 Men, Pdris, Angels, Jinns — all that suisist. 
 All, whatsoever is, lives comprehended ; 
 Only ly His existing these exist. 
 
 " Huge rolls the sea — we know — in foam and spray 
 Under our feet, ivith dreadful waves at play ; 
 
 Bright climbs to topmost of the firmament 
 The hroad and blinding Sun, Sultan of Day. 
 
i6o WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 " Tet, if ye deem them something outside Him, 
 Tlien are ye ' Peoples of the Picture ! ' Dim 
 
 Your lamps gleam ! never will ye find a passage 
 To that far other Land vjhere Seraphim 
 
 " And Lords of Truth sit saying : ' Ton gold Sun, 
 Lt is not of His smallest treasures one ! 
 
 Yon Ocean, seven times folded, if He willed it, 
 Uxhales, like deio-drop in the noon undone / ' 
 
 " Oh, when the Sultan of all State appears, 
 And Royal Banner of the real Life rears, 
 
 This world into the neck of Non-existence 
 Braivs head, as when a tortoise footsteps fears ! " 
 
 MiEZA. And this our Lord will still exemplify. 
 
 [The MiEZA reads.] 
 
 The Pais of a village, with his son. 
 Encountered on a certain road alone, 
 
OE, THE BOOK OP LOVE. i6i 
 
 The main-guard of a monarch's army marching, 
 A myriad pacing with the step of one. 
 
 Marvelling the hoy beheld the pioneers, 
 With swords and battle-axes ; halberdiers, 
 
 Heralds and scouters ; glistering shirts of satin, 
 Waist-cloths of gold, horse-trappings, shields and spears ; 
 
 BanJcs of fierce fighting-men, bearing the bow ; 
 And after them those that with quivers go 
 
 Furnishing shafts ; a blaze of bright silk yonder. 
 And here a King's cap in the glorious show : 
 
 Which pomp and splendour watching — ivhen he turned 
 To speak the joy wherewith his young blood burned, 
 
 Lo I the exceeding meanness of his Father ! 
 At that loiid storm of war sorely concerned 
 
 The old man's mien was changed, his colour fled. 
 His heart made water ; and, with fear half-dead. 
 
i62 WITH SA'DI IN THE GAEDEN; 
 
 Into a cave he hied. The Son inquired, 
 "Art thou not Rais, as the folks have said ? 
 
 " Chief of our Tribe, and hy such chieftaincy 
 
 Named with the great ones ? What hath come to thee, 
 
 To snap the staff of manhood, and with terror 
 To tremble like a wind-torn willoio-tree ? "■ 
 
 The Sire replied : " Yea ! truly I am chief, 
 
 And of the great — at home ; hut this belief 
 
 Goeth not past our village ! " — 
 
 Even likewise 
 The mightiest are oerwhelmed with awe and grief 
 
 Who come upon the march of God the King. 
 Oh, thou of mortal sort ! why should it bring 
 
 Pride to thy soul to rule in this world's village ? 
 Thy state and greatness is a little thing ! 
 
OK, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 163 
 
 Saheb. Truly, a little thing ! See where we sit 
 In this fair Garden with its milk-white Tomb 
 Gleaming behind the palms, and those great Dead 
 Whose joy it was, who ruled the spacious land, 
 Lie out of sight under two narrow slabs. 
 Forgot, unseen — the Sultan and his Love — 
 Arjamand Banu Begam, Shah Jahan, 
 Two basketsful of dust and crumbled bones ! 
 
 MiEZA. Tes, that hath solemnness, if we did look 
 Not farther than to trivial circumstance 
 Of death, and dust, and darkness of the grave ; 
 And common is the homily thereon ; 
 Even Sa'di hath this skull-verse I recall : 
 
 [The MiEZA recites.] 
 
 Say not Sultans are mighty! think not largely of 
 
 thrones ! 
 The realm of the beggar is safer than the kingdoms of 
 
 diademed ones : 
 
^ WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 The ligLter tlie wallet is loaded the farther the traveller 
 
 goes; 
 And the crown is a heavier headgear than felt, as a 
 
 Darweesh knows. 
 
 The woe of a Darweesh is measured by his want of an 
 
 oaten crust ; 
 On the heart of a King sit always his Empire's toil and 
 
 trust. 
 
 When the Darweesh has munched at sunset his hunk of 
 
 yesterday's bread, 
 He sleeps in his rags more sweetly than the King on a 
 
 golden bed. 
 
 Be grieved for whoso ruleth, and pity his sorrowful fate ! 
 The beggar is verily monarch, though he hides with 
 a clout his state. 
 
 I heard it told of a Darweesh, long ago, in a distant 
 
 land, 
 How a skull spake these words to him, as he held the 
 
 thing in his hand : 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 165 
 
 " The pomp of tlie giving of orders, and the power to 
 
 save and to slay, 
 Were mine; and a turban of greatness on the brow 
 
 which is bone to-day. 
 
 " God's will and the glory of battle brought harvest to 
 
 edge of my sword ; 
 I was King of the two great Eivers, I was Babylonia's 
 
 Lord: 
 
 " I had in my heart the purpose to seize Karamania's 
 
 plain ! — 
 When lo ! — in the wink of an eyelid — ^the worms were 
 
 eating my brain ! " — 
 
 From the Ear of Wisdom, Darweesh ! the Cotton of 
 
 Carelessness pluck, 
 That counsel of dead men, Darweesh ! may bring thee, 
 
 by lowliness, luck. 
 
 Saheb. Tour own glad Poet, then, touched strings so 
 sad? 
 
1 66 WITH SA'DI IN THE GAEDEN ; 
 
 MiEZA. Sir! he wrote thus. But whoso deems life 
 ends 
 With what a skull saith, and the wormy talk 
 Of mortal minutes finished, wotteth not 
 Of inner times unfolding, and large days 
 Beyond our dawns, and Beauty beautified 
 Past Arjamand, past Laila and Majniin. 
 They who take hopelessness for truth, and sit 
 On carpet of Resignment, looking not 
 Except for Death to undo Life's slow-wove web, 
 Ravelling the pattern — toilsome, finished, rich — 
 Just when God's shuttle shot the last thread home, 
 Are like those apes which caught a fire-fly 
 And laid it 'neath green sticks, and blew, and blew, 
 Hoping to kindle light. See there ! 'tis full — 
 Yon cypress-top, the Tree of gloom — with sparks 
 Born of the swamp and the wan water ! Look ! 
 Should one take those pale fluttering specks for stars ? 
 And hear how Sa'di mocketh them ! he saith : 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 167 
 
 [The MiEZA reads.] 
 
 In mead or grove, hy night, oft hast thou seen 
 The fire-fly wave his lamp of glittering green : 
 
 Once some one said, " Oh, Fly ! lamping the darkness, 
 What makes it that thy kind hath never been 
 
 " Spied in the day-time ? " Mark what answer wise 
 That little marsh-horn thing, with fiery eyes. 
 Gave from its mouth of luminosity ! — 
 " Wherever waters spread, and dank leaves rise, 
 
 " We range, day-time and night-time ; hut the Sun 
 Puts out our gleam : till his great race is run 
 Our feeble heams are nowhere manifest; 
 The darkness kindles them, when night's legun I " 
 
 Saheb. Yet, Mirza ! men will press that Death is Death, 
 Painful and hateful, ending tender Love ; 
 
1 63 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 That Beauty, like the rose, drops her sweet leaves. 
 And eyes of youth, which saw Heaven's smile therein, 
 Grow dim and hopeless ; and ten thousand ills 
 Palsy the heart's wings mounting hopefullest : 
 Till, at the last — whether we pile on it 
 A mountain of snow-marble, like this Taj, 
 Or clay on clay — here lies the sum of all 
 Arjamand, dead in child-bed, dust and bones ! 
 Her Sultan, crownless, fleshless, good to make 
 Pipkins for potters ! Ah, the bitterness ! 
 MiEZA. What " bitterness " ? What " sum " ? Did men 
 complain, 
 Waiting so long and still in the safe womb. 
 Before the Maker's scheme gave them glad birth 
 And resurrection into present life, 
 With roses, and delights, and lips and songs, 
 So dear to have you cannot brook to lose ? 
 Oh, Allah ! pardon men, who are as babes 
 That will not open hands to clasp Thy hand 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 169 
 
 Lest they unclasp the playthings given them 
 
 To make the sunlight sweet 'twixt sleep and sleep ! 
 
 Listen once more to Sa'di, teaching peace : 
 
 [The MiEZA reads.] 
 
 A tumult in a Syrian toion had place ; 
 
 They seized an old man there of wit and grace ; 
 
 Still in my ear lingers his nolle saying, 
 When, fettered fast, they snfMe him on the face : 
 
 Quotha : " If of all Sultans the Sultan 
 Gives not the word for plunder, who else can ? 
 
 Who, save upon His lidding, would le lold 
 To do such deeds ? Therefore I hold the man 
 
 " That wrongs me, not mine enemy lut friend ; 
 God hath appointed him unto this end ! 
 
 If there fall scorn or honour, gifts or shackles, 
 'Tis God — not Zayd or Omar — who doth send." — 
 
I70 WITH SA'DI IN THE GAEDEN ; 
 
 Bight, Sheykh ! no griefs the wise heart will annoy ; 
 The Great Physician sharp drugs doth employ ! 
 
 A sick maris not more skilful than his HAkim ; 
 Take what the Friend gives as a Miss and joy. 
 
 Saheb. Good ! if we knew, as this calm ancient knew, 
 All things from Him ! 
 
 MiEZA. How were it otherwise ? 
 
 Or, have you thought the stars and worlds are left. 
 The angels, and the jinns, and men — those least 
 Last creatures of the Universe, yet lodged 
 In palace of this wondrous Earth, roofed o'er 
 With sapphire, and with emerald pavemented — 
 To Shaitan, to Azazil ? If the worm 
 Will wrap itself in self-made shroud of silk, 
 Glad to quit being, sure of life to come. 
 Trusting the secret promise of the hours 
 To bring it wings of cream and gold, and feasts 
 Of blossoms brimmed with honey ; if she-bears 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 171 
 
 Have love enough for their shagged cubs to dash 
 Careless upon the spear-blade — shall not we 
 Have sense and grace to wait for Him to give 
 Who giveth all, to trust the Oup-bearer 
 Whatever wine He pour ? 
 DiLAZAU. Most learned one ! 
 
 Is it taught true that, when Believers die, 
 The spirits of them dwell in green birds' crops 
 Under the Throne, until the Trumpet blows ? 
 MiKZA. The birds are milk-white, Daughter ! Yet who 
 
 knows 
 Of Al-Berzalch, and of the bone Al Ajb 
 Wherefrom all spring anew ? Have thou in mind 
 How when our Lord the Prophet (on his tomb 
 Shine Allah's light ! ) questioned Jibrail's self 
 Of this, and of the " Blast of Summoning," 
 The holy Angel answered, " Times and signs 
 We wot not ! Allah wotteth ! " And, hear now 
 What Sa'di saith of God's sufficiency : 
 
172 WITH SA'DI IN THE GAEDEN ; 
 
 [The MiEZA reads.] 
 
 A Prince praised Said, Zangi's Son : quoth he, 
 " Much mercy on his tombstone may there ie ! 
 
 Dirhams I gave him, and a dress of honour, 
 And kept for him a seat of dignity. 
 
 " But on my role of honour when he read 
 " Allah wa bas " ivrit large in golden thread, 
 
 With sudden heat he pluclced that garment from him, 
 And suchjlame caught his spirit that hejied 
 
 " Into the waste. One of the Beseri-hreed 
 Asked, ' Said, Son of Zangi J what did'st read 
 
 Worked on the khillat, that, in act to worship 
 Thou shouldst, with rude heel, on the good gift tread ? ' 
 
 " He laughed and answered : ' I was over-fraught 
 With pride at first ; but when I saw that wrought 
 
OR, THE BOOK OP LOVE. 173 
 
 " God is Enough ! " upon the gilded silk, 
 I did remember all the rest was nought! " 
 
 Saheb. Noble thy scroll is, Mirza ! strange to muse 
 This Sa'di fought our soldiers of the Cross 
 In old days for the Holy Sepulchre, 
 At Askalon, and Lebanon ! How mad 
 Are nations' quarrels ! righteous work, forsooth, 
 For Heaven and Christ that Red-Cross Knight had 
 
 wrought. 
 Who should have cloven brain with such rhymes rich, 
 Or driven blundering consecrated lance 
 Through such a Paynim's heart. 
 
 Merza, Doubt thou not, Sir ! 
 
 He battled, as he teacheth, valiantly : 
 'Tis told he thrice set free a Nazarene — 
 Unhorsed, and helpless at his dagger's point — 
 'Ere he was made a slave at Tripoli. 
 
 [GuLBADAN starts and cries aloud .•] 
 
174 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 GuLBADAN. Ya Ali ! help me, lielp ! 
 Saheb. What is it ? 
 
 MiEZA. Girl ! 
 
 Kh-dbda lad na dihad ! * What aileth ? 
 
 GULBADAN. Oh ! 
 
 I thought a scorpion crept beneath my cloth ! 
 
 Some winged thing 'twas flew in my neck : 'tis nought ! 
 
 Pardon me, Sirs ! 
 Saheb. Our sweet-voiced Gulbadan, 
 
 Who did not dread the tiger's blazing eyes. 
 
 Screams at a moth ! When shall we ever leam 
 
 This book of man ? 
 MiEZA. It came for love of flame 
 
 Into the burning lamp : nay, Dilaz&r ! 
 
 Kill it not ! 'tis a creature, too, of God, 
 
 And flutters towards the light, like us : I mind 
 
 A little ghazal which doth bid thee spare : 
 
 * God send thee no evil. 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 175 
 
 [The MiEZA recites^ 
 
 Who is so small but, when he suffers, sighs ? 
 Who is so great but mercy dignifies ? 
 
 Shibli, from grain bazaar, upon his back 
 With toilsome steps took home a loaded sack ; 
 
 Arrived — a red Ant in the wheat he spied. 
 Her troubled feet running from side to side. 
 
 " I to my house, and thou to thine ! " quoth he ; 
 " Testify at the Judgment this of me ! " 
 
 For pity of her woe all that long way, 
 He bore her to her people of the clay : 
 
 And Firdausi this gentle verse did make, 
 
 " Peace be to his pure Tomb for that Ant's sake ! ' 
 
 DiLAZAE. Sir ! I have sent it free, the spotted moth ! 
 If I sate many nights in vour BostS,n 
 
176 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 I think I should grow good and wise ; but look ! 
 
 The Wolfs Tail sweeps the sky, soon 'twill be 
 
 dawn ! 
 MiEZA. Yes, we must finish ! And the fluttering 
 
 moth 
 Is Sa'di's image now of Love which lives 
 Faithful unto the end in trust of Love : 
 
 [The MiEZA reads.] 
 
 Hear what the little soft-winged Moth replied, 
 Fluttering around the lam/p-Jlaine, ere he died, 
 
 To one who said : " Creature contemptible ! 
 Some Mistress choose to thine own land allied, 
 
 "Some road of Love, which holds forth hope, pursue. 
 Thou and thy Wiclis enibraces ! What's to do 
 
 Betwixt ye ? Whence and whither such mad passion ? 
 Burnest thou ? Aye ! and candle hurneth, too I 
 
OR, THE BOOK OP LOVE. 177 
 
 " Thou art not a Samundar to pass free 
 Mid scorching coals ; let the hot lantern he ! 
 
 Since Sense comes first, and after Sacrifi/;e ; 
 And blind bats leave the Sun to such as see. 
 
 '• Vainly against a stronger force we strive ; 
 And foolish 'tis in gentilesse to live 
 
 With those declared our enemies ! Who taught thee 
 'Twas right thy being for her beams to give ? 
 
 " Rast thou not heard how, once, a Beggar wooed 
 The daughter of a King, and boldly sued 
 
 To wed her ; and the pushings on his nech 
 How hard they were ; the blows how so7'e and rude ? 
 
 " A lover like to thee why should she bring 
 Into heart's count, when Agha, Mirza, King 
 
 Turn their great faces towards her for their light ? 
 In such high company think no vain thing 
 
 M 
 
178 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 " That she can show thee tenderness! Good, lack! 
 Tender she might he to the general pack, 
 
 But thou art of the helpless ones ! thy softness 
 With scorn consuming she will pay thee hack!' 
 
 Listen what answer made the ardent Moth : — 
 " iVb matter if I hum, oh, thou too wroth ! 
 
 Such fire is in my hreast, like Ihrahim's, 
 That frames hecome Bose-gardens to us hoth ! 
 
 " My hand draws not my Lady's skirts, L know ! 
 But she draws me ! And yet, it is not so : 
 
 Strong love for her this is which claims and draws me 
 It is not wholly of my will I go 
 
 " To tvin red ICiss of Death. Afar, afar 
 I was as hurnt as now my poor wings are 
 
 Here, in the flame. The worst of fire hefcll me 
 Then, when my love first kindled at her Star." 
 
OB, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 179 
 
 Saheb. You see it was for comfort that he fled, 
 Rose-Body ! to your neck ! How could he dream, 
 Kind Gulbadan, brave Gulbadan, who takes 
 Their prey from tigers, would have feared a moth ? 
 
 Gulbadan. Ah, Treasure-house of Bounty ! I am 
 shamed ! 
 I did not know this was so sad a one. 
 Read, Mirza Saheb ! what the Moth said next. 
 
 Mteza. Still went he on, exalting constancy : 
 
 [Tlie MmzA reads.] 
 
 " Yet, in regard of Beauty no men pray 
 For less of Beauty — thd that Beauty slay ! 
 
 Who then reproves me, loving my Beloved, 
 Since Life at her white feet well-pleased I lay ? 
 
 " Dost thou not know why I court doom and Death ? 
 That she may live when I have yielded breath ! 
 
I So WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 For that is Jit ! and she, my Best-beloved 
 Burns hrightlier when myjlesh enhindleth. 
 
 " How wilt thou say, then, 'Find thyself some mate 
 Suitable, equal, more compassionate ? ' 
 
 'Tis all as though to one by scorpion bitteyi 
 Thou shouldst cry ' Grieve not ! ' as console my state. 
 
 " Idle is counsel which men cannot take. 
 
 And vain to urge, when one his reins doth break, 
 
 ' Ay, Gholam ! drive thou slower ! ' 'Twas well 
 written, 
 Islik atesli ast ; — and wind worse fire doth make ! 
 
 " Advice is wind, and passion is dsjftame ; 
 The panther by his wounds fiercer became : 
 
 Thou art didl-witted, being what thou seemesl, 
 To deem that I, a Lover, am the same. 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 
 
 "Let worshippers of Self seek such as they, 
 In spots secure, and hy an easy way ; 
 
 Those drunk with heavenly self-forgetfulness 
 Go on a perilous quest, glad if it slay. 
 
 " WTien first with this desire I grew possessed, 
 All other hopes I rooted from my breast ; 
 
 He that will stake his head is called true Lover , 
 The feeble-livered loves his life the lest. 
 
 " What ? on a sudden, from some ambush, Death 
 Ends me in some vile way ? Better my breath 
 
 To yield as I will yield it, willing-minded. 
 Doomed by my Lady's swift delicious wrath ! 
 
 " 'Tis written on the brow when we must die ; 
 If she's to kill, ' Bight welcome I ' answer I ; 
 
 Since one day, helpless, we must quit existence, 
 Now at her feet I lay it, joyously ! " 
 
1 82 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 GuLBADAN. If tliere were lovers like to him 'mongst men, 
 
 Women would be, as breeze of Mosellay 
 
 Gentle and steadfast ; and, as Euknabad,* 
 
 Limpid and sweet. 
 DiLA^AR. Yet I am fain to hear 
 
 What spake the lamp ! 
 MiEZA. It answereth in the next : 
 
 [The MiEZA reads.] 
 
 One night — I do remertib&r — when mine eyes 
 Closed not, I heard a talking in this wise : 
 
 Moth said to Lamp-Jlame, "Ah, my Well-heloved ! 
 I am a Lover ; this is no surprise 
 
 If I do weep and hum ; hut thou ! hut thou ! 
 Why do I see thee weeping, hurning, noiv ? " 
 
 The Lamp replied, " Shirin-i-man ! Soft Lover ! 
 The honey of my life melts from my hrow ! " 
 
 * A spot and stream mentioned by Hafiz. 
 
OR, THE BOOK OP LOVE. 183 
 
 It said, " Oh, tearful Lover ! cease to sigh ! 
 Passion's worst pangs thou hnowest not, as I : 
 
 Leave claiming, leave lamenting, or come boldly I 
 Nor fower, nor patience of Loves mystery 
 
 "Hast thou, who fliest from my naked fire, 
 Desiring, yet afraid of thy Desire ! 
 
 Hither and thither dost thotojlutter, fearful ; 
 But I consume, exhale, glow and expire. 
 
 " If flame of Love thy silver feathers scorch, 
 Look upon me, who am Love's kindled Torch / 
 
 Think on the hlaze and torrent of my burning. 
 Forget my splendour, lighting Court and Porch ! " 
 
 There lingered still some little of the night. 
 When one of Pdri-face put out that light ; 
 
 The smoke rose like a parting soul : it whispered, 
 " Look, Lover ! now, indeed. Love endeth right ! 
 
1 84 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 " This is the Boad ! Rah in ast ! Imrn of me ; 
 Dying thou gainest Love's test ecstacy ! " 
 
 Make over Lover slain no Imnentatioii ; 
 Cry Sliiikur ! thanks ! — He is accepted ; he. 
 
 Oh, if thou lest true Lover wash not hand 
 From that dear stawi of Love ! from worldly hrand 
 Of wealth and self-love wash it ! At the last 
 Those win, who spite of Fortune's tempests, stand, 
 
 Glad to wreck all for Love. I say to thee— 
 I, Sa'di — laimch not on that houndless Sea ! 
 
 But, if thou puttest forth, hoist sail, quit anchor ! 
 To storm and wave trust thyself hardily ! 
 
 Saheb. I think, with Dilaz^r, if we should sit 
 Ofttimes, good Mirza ! in Bostan with you, 
 We might almost grow bold as Gulbadan 
 For Allah's holy sake, and what He made ; 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 185 
 
 Might learn to love like Candle and like Moth. 
 And, of a truth, by this we may perceive 
 Whither your Poet brings us. But now dance 
 One little measure more, and sing that song 
 The Nautchnees use at parting, Gulbadan ! 
 Then will I tell you what our Hindoos say — 
 The pundits of the Poorans and the Ved — 
 Touching this Love in Life, and all it means. 
 Gulbadan. Jan§,b ! I think it is this dance you 
 ask, 
 Where first we lay aside chuddur and veil 
 And glide near to the Peast-master, and gaze 
 Eyes into eyes ; and then again put on 
 The garments, and steal slow away, and hide 
 Our face, the music softly dying down : 
 
 \_Sh6 dances and sings ; Dilazae playing. \ 
 
 I have danced, oh, my Master and Lover ! 
 
 All my best ; 
 
1 86 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEX ; 
 
 It is past, I shall no more discover 
 
 Neck and breast ! 
 
 Thou hast seen, thou hast seen ! and, by glances 
 
 Deep impressed — 
 
 The beat of my feet in the dances 
 
 Told the rest. 
 
 Jan-i-man ! Life of mine, it is ended ! 
 
 O'er my face 
 I draw veil ! Music no more is blended 
 
 In this place 
 With the songs where Love's sigh comprehended 
 
 Soul's embrace : 
 IChUda Hdfiz ! God keep you attended 
 
 By His grace ! 
 
 Saheb. Thanks, most kind Gulbadan ! Tulip and Bird ! 
 Dancer and Singer both, and both so sweet ! 
 Yes ! it is this the Sankhya maxim taught 
 In Nartakiva * (do you know it. Sir ?), 
 Saying ('tis section sixty-nine, book three 
 
 * Nartakivatpravittasyapi uivrittischaritarthyat, &o. ka. 
 
OE, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 187 
 
 Of Kapila) in Sanskrit terse and dark : 
 " For Nature, in the shows and plays of life, 
 Is like a dancing-girl who paces, siags, 
 Eeveals, conceals, approaches, and retires 
 Before the eyes of him whom she would move ; " 
 Till — when it is enough — she drops her veil. 
 And speaks the word of rest, and ceases so, 
 (As Gulbadan did, when tamboora stayed), 
 And then an end for him ; since Soul is taught. 
 
 Gulbadan. Ah, English Lord ! but those that teach the 
 Soul, 
 Obeying Nature, or hard need, or fate ; 
 Or set to this by whatso force or fault ; 
 Have you no happy wisdom, too, for us ? 
 
 Saheb. My Tiger-tamer ! with the roe-deer eyes. 
 
 What should I know? Heaven hath its scheme for you, 
 
 Its pity, and its pardon, and its love. 
 
 Even as for queens. Nature doth dance for you 
 
 As for her best ; matches her songs to ear, 
 
1 88 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Makes eye-play, heart-play, till siie fill your soul 
 With what was meant. Inshallah ! be well-pleased ! 
 Would I had such good hope as Gulbadan ! 
 
 DiLAZAR. But what is meant ? Huzoor ! for these high 
 words 
 Make even Nautchnees muse. 
 
 Saheb. Calamity 
 
 Of heedless minds, bright Dilazar ! 'twere best 
 If Hussein answered, for the Mirza's wit 
 Guides us herein — yet we three witless ones 
 Glean thus much, as I deem, from this fair night 
 Spent in the Garden of Queen Arjamand : 
 That all the glory and the grace of things, 
 Witchcraft of loveliness, wonder of flesh, 
 Fair symmetry of forms, deep harmonies 
 Of line and limb — are but as shadows cast 
 From hidden Light of Beauty and of Love 
 Thus chiefly here revealed. Nor charm alone 
 Of man for woman, woman for the man. 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 189 
 
 With secret of Earth's roll kept thus at speed, 
 
 And all its tender fruits of motherhood, 
 
 And fatherhood, and friendships, and large links 
 
 Of households, villages, towns, nations, race ; 
 
 But all things beautiful and great which please, 
 
 Those wonder-whispering stars, that poised swift moon, 
 
 The purple peace of Night, yon pearly Dawn 
 
 Coloured with day's first gold ; this cool pure breeze 
 
 Which is the breath of Nature wakening, 
 
 Those roses with their lovely blush come back, 
 
 These birds withdrawing little heads from wings, 
 
 The butterflies abroad spreading soft vans 
 
 Of blue and green and crimson, silver-mealed ; 
 
 The blossoms opening for them, honey-filled. 
 
 And stately things and rich of Art, where Man 
 
 Works to the patterns of the Master-hand, 
 
 Such as yon cloud-white dome which, soaring, notes 
 
 The coming Morn and takes its first warm gleam 
 
 On the glad marble : — these, and joy of Life, 
 
igo WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 And ecstasy of Love, and youth and faith, 
 
 And marvels of the pictures painted us 
 
 By land and sea, and wonders in the lap 
 
 Which fold by fold the Mother opens us, 
 
 Whispering her secrets as we learn to hear — 
 
 And, at the last, that last large joy of all, 
 
 Trust in the goodness and the love of Him 
 
 Who, making so much well, will end all well : 
 
 These, as I think, are pages of Love's Book 
 
 Which here, with childhood's stammering lips, we 
 
 spell ; 
 And those who study deepest learn the most 
 That Love hates nought except Self-love — will have 
 Self-love uptorn, disdained, slain, cast away; 
 Will have us learn in Life's great book to be 
 Patient and reasonable, kindly and mild, 
 Led always by the hand of what we love 
 Nearer and nearer to the Loveliest, 
 The Largest, Highest, Fullest, Happiest, Best; 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 191 
 
 Despising none because 'tis Allah made — 
 For sKall men wrangle o'er the Nameless Name ? — 
 And envying none because 'tis Allah wills 
 What fortunes each shall have, and where his place : 
 But lief to live and not afraid to die, 
 Since Love, that would not wrong us, whispers oft 
 " Die now for me ! " as though we could not die 
 Obeying Love ! These are the echoes, Friends ! 
 I catch from Sa'di and wise Hussein here ; 
 Music for modern minds subtle — ^but yet 
 Sweet and contenting as those sounds which float 
 Around the snow-pure ceiling of yon tomb, 
 Lifting the heart on plumes of wings unseen. 
 And linking painful Earth with blissful Heaven. 
 Thus have I gathered — if I gather well. 
 MiEZA. Well hast thou gathered. Sir ! and truly heard 
 The Sama', that deep murmur of the truth. 
 Which soundeth everywhere to ears unlocked : • 
 And thereto lastly Sa'di leadeth us : 
 
192 WITH SA'DI IN THE GAEDEN ; 
 
 [The MiRZA reads.] 
 
 Was one God-loving — tut he idly gave 
 His heart to he a cruel Beauty'' s slave : 
 
 Contempt he suffered ; those that lately lauded 
 Beat Bumours drum to call him fool and knave : 
 
 Yet all ill things he lore for her fair sake ; 
 Love for Lifers poison antidote doth make ! 
 
 His neck to harsh rebuke he hoiued ; his forehead 
 Was hared for contumely to heat and hreak : 
 
 Nay — for all those reproachings were in vain; 
 Small heed hath one that drowns of pelting rain I 
 
 Wlien Foot of Will strikes hard on Bock of Frenzy, 
 Who thinks of mud-splash, or of garment's stain ? 
 
 And, one night, in the guise of her, Shaitdn 
 Ensnared the heart of this bewildered man ; 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 193 
 
 Soul-hound he lay in that delicious bondage, 
 And found no power of prayer when day began. 
 
 Angered against his flesh a pool he sought ; 
 Winter upon the water s face had ivrovght 
 
 A marbled door of ice — he burst and phinged: 
 One cried : " Oh, Fool ! to death thou wilt be brought ! " 
 
 The youth said : " Vex me not with s"orn and blame 
 If thus I punish Self. Five days the flame 
 
 Of Love had scorched my blood, consuming patience ; 
 Now I extinguish it ! for since I came 
 
 " Into this tender sin not once did she 
 Ask, with sweet throat, if ill or well I be ; 
 
 Not once with gentle speech of grace and pity 
 Lighten the burden of Love's tyranny. 
 
 " But He ! but He ! Who made me from the clay. 
 
 And set my Soul within it, and alway 
 
 N 
 
194 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Pities and pardons, and enfolds us ever 
 In Sis henejlcence, shall I not lay 
 
 " My heart back in His hand ? " Quoth Sa'di, too, 
 lose thyself thus if thou art lover true 
 
 Of Him where loss is gain ! If otherwise, 
 Folloio the path of flesh, and following , rue! 
 
 Yet, fear not, lost in God, dead earth to be ; 
 He ivill remahe, lohen He tmmaketh thee ! 
 
 There shoot no green blades from the tuheat and barley 
 Till seed is laid in dust of husbandry. 
 
 That which doth set thee free from self shall bring 
 Nighness to God ! This is a subtle thing 
 
 The selfless only hnoiv. Not self-possessing 
 Art thou thine oivn — but self-abando7iing ! 
 
 Saheb. So are we back again on Christ's own Hill 
 In Syria ; under the Tree with Buddh ! 
 
OE, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 195 
 
 " Lose thyself," Sa'di says, "to fiad thyself; " 
 The secret word of Love — but, will it come, 
 That hour which makes the sadness end in joy. 
 The worst turn best ? 
 
 MiEZA. Surely that hour will come ! 
 
 How else ? The Master of the Cup keeps back 
 His richest vintage for last round of the Feast. 
 Is there not, Gulbadan ! a song you sing, 
 Where some one asks the Pearl, the Rose, the Bird, 
 If it was hard to wait ? 
 
 Gulbadan. Chand wakt — why, yes ! 
 
 If it may please, I do remember that. 
 
 [Gdlbadan sings.'\ 
 
 " How didst thou bear, white Pearl ! the sea-waves' 
 swelling, 
 
 The cold green underworld, where Day is Night 
 The horrid monstrous fish, the dismal dwelling. 
 
 Shut in thy shell— ^such lustre lost to sight ? " 
 
196 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 " Oh, fair Princess ! on whose neck I am gleaming, 
 I dreamed of thee — and now 'tis no more dreaming!" 
 
 " How didst thou pass, red Eose ! the bitter weather 
 While I was songless ? " " Nightingale ! " she said, 
 
 " I knew that Love and thou would come together ! 
 In bud of Patience flower of Hope I laid 
 
 Till Zephyrs breathed, these blessed moon-times bringing. 
 
 And now 'tis summer, and I hear thee singing ! " 
 
 " Why didst thou toil, bright Bird, thy soft nest weaving, 
 
 Early and late, hiding it in the tree ; 
 The meadows and the pleasant sunshine leaving, 
 
 To build that little house ? " " Oh, Poet ! see 
 Under my wing five feathered chirping treasures ! 
 Was I not wise to let go woodland pleasures ? " 
 
 " How didst thou bring thy well-beloved hither 
 Hand in hand, Lover with the happy eyes ! 
 
 Not waiting till the Dead should rise together ? 
 Knowest thou not that this is Paradise ? " 
 
 " Angel of God ! her step passed near my tomb, 
 
 I heard it, and I rose, and I am come ! " 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 197 
 
 Saheb. I have a wisli you too should dance for us 
 One last time, Dilaz§,r — as Nature does 
 Before Life's lesson closes, teaching men 
 What eyes were for, and hearts. There must have 
 
 happed 
 Some last dance in this Garden for the Queen, 
 Some hour when all that love of Shah Jahan, 
 The stately days, the sovereignty, the bliss, 
 Gathered to golden finish like yon horn 
 Pointing the Taj. Dance and sing, Dilazar ! 
 
 [DiLAZAR rises and dances slowly, accompanying her steps 
 ly the voice alone.] 
 
 Eyes softly bold ! 
 
 Bodice bound with gold ! 
 
 Girdle clasping what love would enfold I 
 
 Light glancing feet 
 
 Which meet — part — and meet ! 
 
 Dancing, dancing the measure sad and sweet : 
 
WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Dance, dance still ! 
 
 Dance, if you will, 
 
 All the night long as the slow stars dance ! 
 
 All the night long 
 
 I would hear your Indian song. 
 
 And watch you, dark Star ! in a trance. 
 
 Nay, 'tis enough ! 
 
 To the world rude and rough 
 
 Take back your heart, wistful Lover ! 
 
 I have woven well the spell ; 
 
 In your spirit it will dwell ! 
 
 Remember me ! the Dance and Song are over ! 
 
 Saheb. Even so, the changes and the charms of 
 Life 
 Dance to the heart and die away from eyes, 
 And Love takes off the bells, and we are left 
 To think, to sink, to die — at Burhanpur. 
 But that's no end ! the Sama' still is heard ! 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVK 199 
 
 God's music cannot finish with, one tune ! 
 Hath Sa'di more upon this subtle theme ? 
 MiEZA. Yet one piece more and then the end, good Friend ! 
 
 [The MiEZA reads.] 
 
 Thus all around is Sama' — Micsic ! they, 
 Who live in love of Ileav'n ask none to play 
 
 Bahdi or pipe ! the common sounds of Earth, 
 Make meanings ! horse-hoofs clattering on the way, 
 
 Voices of waste and water, nay ! a fly — 
 His gilded filmy wings he doth not ply 
 
 Before Ood's Lover, hut that man puts, Jly-lihe, 
 His hands across his head in ecstacy : 
 
 Full of those melodies of God heard here. 
 His Lover heeds not much for bam or zer, 
 
 High note or low note ! To his eyes the call 
 Of wild birds winging home brings a glad tear : 
 
200 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 For never anyiohere one instant dunib 
 The Master of all Music doth become ; 
 
 The great Chief-Singer sings — hut what He sings 
 Sounds clear and dear only to ears of some. 
 
 Brothers ! I say not what that Music is, 
 Nor when 'tis heard aright, nor why the Hiss 
 
 Of melody celestial sets life dancing, 
 Nor all the spell and mystery of this : 
 
 Needs that it find right hearer / If Soul's Bird 
 Launch wings from Tower of Truth at that Voice heard, 
 
 The Angels soar not higher : if a man 
 Be sunk in folly Shaitan speaks the word 
 
 Wliich holds him deaf. How should an evil ear 
 Catch the sweet whisper of the Sama clear ? 
 
 When midnight sitars play the loved one listens. 
 Not he whose senses steeped in wine-jars vjere. 
 
OE, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 201 
 
 When Zephyr breathes 'tis the Hose nods to it, 
 Not that dead trunk which the steel axe must split ! 
 
 The world is filled with Sama', with God spealcing, 
 But harmony for deafness is unfit. 
 
 Say I hast thou marked the camel quicken speed, 
 And step forth joyous, when the Arab's reed 
 
 Pipes him a desert-strain ? have camels gladness 
 At sweet sounds, and is man of baser breed ? 
 
 Saheb. Pain would we hear such strains, if we had grace ! 
 But you who know all music, Gulbadan ! 
 Is there still one of all your hundred songs 
 With echo of the Sama', of this sound 
 Unheard, yet sweeter than the things we hear ? 
 
 Gulbadan. I unroll all my cloth of memory, 
 Searching for such, my Lord ! If we please you, 
 We are well-pleased. Yes ! there is this I know : 
 DilazS.r ! play the " song without a sound." 
 
WITH SA'DI IN THE GAEDEN ; 
 
 \_She sings, Dilazak playing.] 
 
 The Bulbul wailed, " Oli, Rose ! all night I sing, 
 And Thou, Beloved ! utterest not one thing." 
 " Dear Bird ! " she answered, " scent and blossoming 
 Are music of my Song without a, sound." 
 
 The Cypress to the Tulip spake : " What bliss 
 Seest thou in sunshine, dancing still like this ? " 
 " My cup," the Tulip said, " the wind's lips kiss ; 
 
 Dancing' I hear the Songf without a sound." 
 
 The grey Owl hooted to the Dove at morn, 
 "Why art thou happy on thy jungle-thorn ? " 
 " Hearest thou not," she cooed, " o'er Earth's face borne 
 This music of the Song without a sound ? " 
 
 " Ah, Darweesh ! " moaned a King, " Vainly I pray 
 For Allah's comfort, kneeling day by day." 
 " Sultan ! " quoth he, " be meek, and hear alway 
 The music of His Mercy without sound." 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 203 
 
 " Poet ! " a Queen sighed, " wliy alone to thee 
 Oome visions of that world we cannot see — 
 Not great nor rich ? " "I borrow minstrelsy," 
 
 Smiling he said, "from Songs without a sound \" 
 
 Shirtn-i-man ! dear Lover ! true and sweet, 
 
 Ask no more if I love, nor kiss my feet ; 
 
 But hear, with cheek against my bosom's beat, 
 
 The music of the Song without a sound ! 
 
 Saheb. Fair ladies, thanks ! the wind of morning lulls 
 
 Lest it lose half a note of your soft strain. 
 
 But here'fe broad Day at last ! we have outwatched 
 
 The Nightingales, and quite forgotten sleep. 
 
 How glorious comes the Morn ! So it will come, 
 
 As I do hope, and as great Sa'di says, 
 
 After Life's night of loneliness and lack. 
 
 To all the Lovers who were tried and true. 
 
 So has it come, then — ages back — to him 
 
 That Sultan of the heart of Arjamand 
 
204 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Who loved Ms Queen so well, and laid her here 
 Look, Gulbadan ! — unless thy large black eyes 
 Be heavy with long vigil — how the Light 
 Walks like an Angel, making all things clear ! 
 See, Dilazar ! the palm feathers are gilt 
 With new gold of another day for Earth, 
 And our Queen's tomb is turned to rose and pearl 
 There must be some sweet Persian verse to praise 
 This perfect hour ! 
 Gulbadan. We are not weary yet, 
 
 Since you are not ; and we would serve you still 
 Who are not proud, and have such gentle thoughts 
 Not for the great ones only, but for us. 
 There comes a song to mind ; Sister ! play up 
 Chaman az nazim : 
 
 {They sing alternate versesi^ 
 
 Gulbadan. The garden was laden with musk by the 
 breeze, 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 205 
 
 It whispered while Earth stirred, it rustled the 
 
 trees ; 
 From the tresses of night fell the last loosened 
 
 star; 
 Ay ! chaman az nazim-i-sabah mushkhar ! 
 
 DiLAZAE. The flowers ope'd their lids ; from the wing of 
 the bird 
 The feathered head lifted ; the jessamine heard 
 All pale in her charms as true Lovers' looks are, 
 Saman az latdfat chu rulchsar-i-yar ! 
 
 GULBADAN. The Eose was awake 'ere the breath of dawn 
 blew, 
 With a tear on her cheek, as the Nightingale knew ; 
 But she parted her lips now and lifted her face : 
 Zi had-i-sahar gul dihan kurdah haz ! 
 
 DiLAZAR. In the light of the morning her beautiful 
 breast 
 She bared for her lover, with passion confessed ; 
 
2o6 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 AH smiliBg and nodding she gave Mm her grace ; 
 Chu madshuh-irhhanddn adshiJc nawdz ! * 
 
 MiEZA. Yea, Girl ! thou canst not sing of love too sweet 
 So it be known that all these pretty words 
 Shadow the true words, play at baby joys. 
 Lisp the first letters of the larger life : 
 Yea, Girl ! thou canst not drink this wine too deep, 
 Nor brim the cup too full, so it be known 
 The Cup-bearer is bliss, and not the wine. 
 The picture nought, the Painter all in all ! 
 Sama' ! Sama' ! oh ! hear, behind the string's. 
 Past voice of the BelovM, past Morn's breath, 
 Past Rose and Nightingale, and yielded lips ; 
 Past high delights of learning, lore and art. 
 Oh, beyond Sa'di even, God's sweet call 
 
 * These four refrains may be rendered literally : 
 
 " The garden was filled with musk by the breeze of morn." 
 " The jasmine, in delicacy, was as the cheek of the Beloved." 
 " The rose opened her lips to the breath of Dawn." 
 "Like a laughing beauty caressing her lover." 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 207 
 
 Lifting all hearts by Jamdl and Jaldl, 
 
 By Tenderness divine, and Majesty, 
 
 To Love and Life whicli have not place nor name ! 
 
 Intoxicate yourselves with that wise dream. 
 
 Be SM ! 
 Saheb. Must we don the woollen cap, 
 
 And drink in Shiah taverns ? 
 MiEZA. Friend ! the heart 
 
 Weareth no garb. But see ! the Sun is come, 
 
 And hath his presence gloriously told, 
 
 Like a great King before whose feet they spread 
 
 The crimson carpet of expectancy ! 
 
 Now must we part, belated Birds of night, 
 
 Who talked, i' the dark, of Love and Life some while, 
 
 Yet blink, only to look at this gold hem 
 
 Of Heaven's hid splendour which men call the Morn. 
 
 Tou will not quite forget the Ishk, and us. 
 
 The roses we outwatched, the nightingales 
 
 That vexed their hearts, and stayed their burning songs, 
 
2o8 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 And gathered round, for enviousness to hear 
 
 Gulbadan's voice, and strings of Dilazar ? 
 Saheb. Never shall I forget ! 
 MiEZA. And when men say, 
 
 In your ' Wilayeti ' beyond the seas, 
 
 That Islam hath no deep philosophies, 
 
 Will you not speak of Sa'di and the night 
 
 We sate together underneath this Taj, 
 
 And tell your people ? Dilazar ! read yet 
 
 Ba dil goftam az Misr to the Saheb : 
 
 [Dilazar reads7\ 
 
 In many lands I have wandered, and wondered, and 
 
 listened and seen ; 
 And many my friends and companions and teachers 
 
 and lovers have been. 
 
 And nowhere a corner was there but I gathered up 
 
 pleasure and gain. 
 From a hundred gardens the rose-blooms, from a 
 
 thousand granaries grain ; 
 
OR, THE BOOK OP LOVE. 209 
 
 And I said to my Soul in secret, " Oh, thou who from 
 
 journeys art come ! 
 It is meet we should bear some token of love to the 
 
 stayers at home ; 
 
 For where is the traveller brings not from Nile the 
 
 sweet green reed, 
 Or Kashmiri silk, or musk-bags, or coral, or cardamum- 
 
 seed ? " 
 
 I was loth from all that Pleasaunce of the Sun, and its 
 
 words and ways. 
 To come to my country giftless, and showing no fruit of 
 
 my days : 
 
 But if my hands were empty of honey, and pearls and 
 gold, 
 
 There were treasures far sweeter than honey, and mar- 
 vellous things to be told, 
 
 Whiter than pearls, and brighter than the cups at a 
 
 Sultan's feast, 
 And these I have brought for love-tokens, from the 
 
 Lords of Truth, in my East. 
 
210 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN ; 
 
 Saheb. Yes ! for I know a Friend wLo is as I 
 Your lover, and a seeker for the Truth, 
 And he will strive to teach what Sa'di taught 
 Among my people, if this Persian Rose 
 Under our skies can open her rich leaves. 
 And western Nightingales sing praise to them ! 
 Mirza ! my grateful hand ! Angels of God 
 Say some day to your gentle soul in Heaven, 
 Khitsh Amadid ! * Dilaz§,r ! tie this gold 
 Tight in your cloth, and keep one Saheb's name 
 Green in your thoughts, as our Queen's Garden is ! 
 And Gulbadan ! dear Gulbadan ! I kiss 
 That little palm which took the baby safe 
 Forth from the tiger's jaws ; I praise and press 
 These gentle lips which sang so meltingly : 
 To-morrow I will send your wounded arm. 
 Which bears its red hurt like a Rose of God, 
 The golden armlet ! Ah ! not thanks ! I owe 
 
 * ' ■ You are welcome ! " 
 
OR, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 2 
 
 More than much gold — more than you know — to you. 
 Remember me ! 
 GuLBADAN. Inshallah ! till we die ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
 PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO 
 EDINBURGH AND LONDON 
 
SIR EDWIN ARNOLD'S 
 AVORKS. 
 
 LONDON : 
 KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER, & CO LI 
 
 PATERNOSTER HOUSE, CHARING CROSS ROAD. 
 
Siv E&win Hrnolb's poetical Tiaiorfts. 
 
 Imperial i6mo, parchment, pp. 144, price 3s. 6d. 
 
 N MY LADY'S PRAISE: 
 
 BEING POEMS OLD AND NEW, 
 
 Written to the Honour of Fanny, Lady Arnold, 
 
 And now Collected for Her Memory, 
 
 BY 
 
 Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I.E., C.S.I., 
 
 Author of " The Light of Asia," &c. &c. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 " Good-night ! not Good-bye ! ' 
 
 Introduction. 
 
 A Casket of Gems — 
 
 P. Fire-opals. 
 
 A. Amethysts. 
 
 N. Nephrite, Jade. 
 
 N. Nacre and Pearls. 
 
 Y. Yacut, Topazes, 
 
 M. Moonstone. 
 A. Aquamarine. 
 R. Rubies 
 
 I. Idocrase, Garnets. 
 4. Agates. 
 
 A. Amber and Lazulite. 
 
 D. Diamonds. 
 
 E. Emeralds. 
 
 L. Ligure, Jacynths. 
 
 A. An Aureus. 
 
 I. lolite and Ivory. 
 
 D. Dawn-stone. 
 
 E. Euclase and Essonite. 
 2 
 
 October. 
 
 Dedication of a Volume of Trans- 
 lations. 
 
 To "Stella.- 
 
 A Duet. 
 
 On a Cyclamen. 
 
 In Happy Days. 
 
 To a Sleeping Lady. 
 
 "Students' Day" in the National 
 
 Gallery. 
 
 Memories. 
 
 In Absence. 
 
 In the Death-Chamber. 
 
 Sic sine vita. 
 
Sir JS&win Hrnol&'s "3n ^15 %nWs iPraise." 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 MoRNiNQ Post. — "Possess considerable merit, and indicate a 
 keen appreciation of and admiration for her in whose honour 
 they were composed}' 
 
 Saturday Review. — " The poets fancy ranges with character- 
 istic ease and buoyancy through m^ny a rich field of legend and 
 history, and does not disdain to add to the poetic garnering 
 somewhat of the spoils of science!' 
 
 Academy. — " Very sweet and sacred would seem to have been 
 the love of which Sir Edwin Arnold allows us to be partakers 
 through the fellowship of grief and song}' 
 
 Whitehall Review. — " It will be the cherished possession of 
 all Sir Edwin Arnold's friends." 
 
 Graphic. — "Admirers of Sir Edwin Arnold's imaginative 
 and poetical gifts will not be willing to remain without the 
 volume in which is enshrined the thoughts which have come of 
 the breaking up of a domestic alliance, to all seeming of idyllic 
 happiness}' 
 
 World. — "His dedication is an exquisite specimen of that 
 spirit of love which pervades the book}' 
 
 Society. — " This is indeed a noble addition to our store of 
 elegiac poetry}' 
 
 Observer. — " A graceful and pathetic tribute to the memory 
 of one whose passing away extinguished for a time the light of 
 his heart and home." 
 
 Literary World. — "Contains some very beautiful thoughts. 
 . . . There are passages in these poems that deserve to live. . . . 
 The ' Casket of Gems is well described as such, and we commend 
 it to all lovers of poetry}' 
 
 British Weekly. — "Necessarily m.ournful, yet rich with 
 imagination, and worthy of the poems that have preceded it 
 from, the same pen}' 
 
 Lloyd's News. — "Comes like a fresh and inspiring breeze 
 from the mountain heights, chasing the gloom of those who 
 would have us believe that there is an end of chivalry, and that 
 life is all a failure}' 
 
 Figaro. — " Some of them are very beautiful, and others in- 
 tensely pathetic}' 
 
 Scotsman. — "Has beauties enough of its own to make it 
 heartily enjoyed by all lovers of poetry}' 
 
 LONDON : KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER, & CO. L™ 
 
 3 
 
Sit E&win Hmolb's ipoetfcal Tiaiorfts. 
 
 Crown 8vo, pp. viii. and 375, price 6s. 
 
 POEMS: 
 
 NATIONAL AND NON-ORIENTAL. 
 
 WITH SOME NEW PIECES. 
 
 Selected from the Works of 
 
 Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I.E., C.S.I., 
 
 Author of "The Light of Asia," &c. &c. &c. 
 
 The Four Crowns. 
 
 To H.R.H. the Princess 
 of Wales. 
 
 The First Distribution of 
 the Victoria Cross. 
 
 In Memoriam. 
 
 Florence Nightingale. 
 
 Congratulatory Address. 
 
 The Order of Valour. 
 
 On the Death of the Prin- 
 cess Alice. 
 
 Havelock in Trafalgar 
 Square. 
 
 Adelaide Anne Procter, 
 
 To America. 
 
 Armageddon. 
 
 To Matthew Arnold. 
 
 Song of the German Sol- 
 diers in Alsace. 
 
 Berlin. — The Sixteenth of 
 1 larch. 
 
 Hero and Leander. 
 
 The Feast of Belshazzar. 
 
 The Three Roses. 
 
 He and She. 
 
 "On the th instant, 
 
 Drowned whilst Bath- 
 ing." 
 
 Dream-land. 
 
 A ma Future. 
 
 Llangollen. 
 
 The Two Wreaths. 
 
 Almond Blossom, 
 
 Sonnet. 
 
 All Saints' Day. 
 4 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Serenade. 
 
 The Emigrant. 
 
 The Three Students. 
 
 Jam Satis. 
 
 Aristippus. 
 
 Effie. 
 
 To F. C. H. 
 
 From Sappho. 
 
 From Anacreon. 
 
 Nemesis. 
 
 Love and Life. 
 
 Two Idylls of Theocritus : 
 By the Fountain. 
 The Spell. 
 
 Lament of Adonis. 
 
 Prayer to the Muses. 
 
 A Dedication. 
 
 With a Volume of Trans- 
 lations. 
 
 Dedication of a Book. 
 
 The Epic of the Lion. 
 
 Nencia. 
 
 The Stratford Pilgrims. 
 
 ' ' Students' Day " in the 
 National Gallery. 
 
 The Knight's Tomb at 
 Swanscombe Church. 
 
 Alia Mano Delia Mia 
 Donna. 
 
 The Hymn of the Priestess 
 of Diana. 
 
 To a Sleeping Lady. 
 
 To Stella. 
 
 Inscribed upon a Skull 
 picked up on the Acro- 
 polis at Athens. 
 
 The New Lucian, 
 
 Oxford Revisited. 
 
 A Duet. 
 
 The Altar of Pity. 
 
 The Cholera in Italy. 
 
 The Wreck of the " Nor- 
 thern Belle." 
 
 A Home Song. 
 
 Fond Fancies. 
 
 On a Dead Lady. 
 
 Lydia. 
 
 The Lost Pleiad. 
 
 Amadis of Gaul to Don 
 Quixote de la Mancha, 
 
 The Shadow of the Cross. 
 
 Christ Blessing Little Chil- 
 dren. 
 
 On a Cyclamen. 
 
 The Twelve Months. 
 
 In Westminster Abbey. 
 
 Atalanta. 
 
 Life. 
 
 Hadrian's Address to hii 
 Soul. 
 
 The Depths of the Sea. 
 
 The Heavenly Secret. 
 
 An Adieu. 
 
 Jeanne. 
 
 A Farewell. 
 
 A Love-Song of Henri 
 Quatre. 
 
 In Memory of S. S. 
 
 Epitaph written for the 
 Same. 
 
 Obscure Martyrs. 
 
 Wilfred H. Arnold. 
 
 The Rhine and the Mo- 
 selle. 
 
Sir 3Et>wln Htnol&'s Selecte& poems. 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 Daily Telegraph. — "Among' so much that is striking in 
 thought or diction it may be difficult to select favourites, and im- 
 possible to award absolute priority of merit; but the short set 
 of verses called ^Atalanta,' and another on Mr. Burn Joneis 
 picture of ^ The MennaidJ entitled '' The Depths of the Sea^ come 
 as near poetical perfection as any in a volume which will delight 
 all to whom English poetry is dear." 
 
 Morning Post. — "Sir Edwin Arnold, in the work under 
 notice, purposely turns from the glowing magic of his Eastern 
 verse, and complies '■with a desire that a selection should be 
 made from his non-Oriental poems! There is consequently great 
 variety in this volume, which contains also many fine and 
 scholarly renderings from French, German, and other poets, 
 besides some ' new pieces! " 
 
 Echo. — " We thank the author for this volume of selected 
 non-Oriental poems, which contain many things which the world 
 would not willingly let die" 
 
 St. James' Gazette. — "Assuredly as Catholic as it is musical!^ 
 
 Manchester Guardian. — "Exceedingly pleasant verse." 
 
 Scotsman. — "A goodly volume of goodly verse. . . . These 
 poems are of uniformly exquisite workmanship, and in many 
 the verse is rich and glowing. They are all inspired by pure 
 and lofty sentijnent and noble ideas. They possess unusual 
 grace of form and expression!' 
 
 Saturday Review. — "As a selection the volume shows unusual 
 care and discrimination. It comprises some new poems, in 
 addition to many old favourites, sure of welcome by all lovers of 
 poetry!' 
 
 Westminster Review. — " They are as refreshing as a breath 
 of air after long confinement in a crowded room!' 
 
 Bookseller. — "A most masterly composition!' 
 
 LONDON : KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER, & CO. L™ 
 
 S 
 
Sft E&win HtnoI6's poetical Morfts. 
 
 Crown 8vo, pp. x. and 212, cloth, price 6s. 
 
 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE BOOK OF LOVE. 
 
 Being the " Ishk " or Third Chapter of the " Boston " of 
 the Persian Poet Sa'di. 
 
 Embodied in a Dialogue held in the Garden of the 
 Taj Mahal, at Agra. 
 
 BY 
 
 Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I.E., C.S.I., 
 
 Author of " The Light of Asia," &c. &c. 
 
 In this work, which is dedicated to the Earl of Dufferin, 
 
 the Author, after minutely describing the beautiful Tomb and 
 
 surrounding Gardens of the Taj Mahal, introduces a group 
 
 composed of a learned Mirza, two singing-girls with their 
 
 attendant, and an Englishman, who pass the night in the 
 
 Mosque attached to the famous Monument, reading the 
 
 Chapter of Sa'di upon " Love," and conversing upon that 
 
 theme, with accompaniments of music and dancing. The 
 
 larger portion of the Book is original, and comprises, besides 
 
 the included translations from Sa'di, many lyrical pieces in 
 
 the Persian manner, sung by the accomplished musicians, 
 
 and also several novel Oriental Tales illustrating the dialogue, 
 6 
 
Sit Ebwm Hrnol&'s "mitb Sa'&i." 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 MoRNiNQ Post. — ^^ From first to last Sir Edwin Arnold's 
 work is rich in gems of thought, conveyed now in words of 
 brilliant imagery, sometimes of deeper import, again of exquisite 
 feeling, but testifying one and all to his absolute assimilation of 
 the genius of the East" 
 
 Daily Telegraph. — "The char7n of the volume is greatly en- 
 hanced by the mingling of dramatic narrative with love, lore and 
 philosophy j and those who in this shape first become acquainted 
 with Sddi's poetry and quaint wisdom will owe a lasting debt 
 of gratitude to the accomplished translator" 
 
 Echo. — "Another volume of charming verse from the far 
 East. . . . That they are charming there can be no question : 
 the only question is whether they are not too charming — so 
 charming as to be almost enervating" 
 
 Academy. — ". . . The perusal of these poems has something 
 of the effect of a change of climate: we open the book, and forth- 
 with leave behind our modern practical life, to find ourselves in 
 1 spiritual region of yearning, and ecstasy and high-strung 
 devotion. We close it, and come back to our work-a-day with a 
 feeling as if we had been breathing a softer and purer air!' 
 
 Spectator. — " The plan of Sir Edwin Arnold's latest -poem 
 is simple but ingenious. . . . He displays a considerable com- 
 mand of picturesque imagery, and a flowing narrative style. 
 His verse is often melodious." 
 
 Whitehall Review. — " We could quote and quote and quote 
 again, filling our columns with orient pearls, and yet leave the 
 treasures of this book well-nigh untouched!' 
 
 British Weekly. — "His verse has all its old dreamy charm; 
 one could give himself up to it in the sun for hours!' 
 
 St. Stephen's Review. — "' Sa'di's' poems go straight to the 
 heart. . . . It is not going too far to say, that for captivating 
 interest, for situations on which the mind hangs spell-bound 
 and for exquisite touches of human nature and sublimest pathos, 
 the author of ' The Light of Asia' has in this exquisite idyl 
 surpassed hhnself!' 
 
 Literary World. — " We hope Sir Edwin Arnold will long 
 be spared to give us more of his delightful and scholarly Oriental 
 poems, instinct as they are with the truest spirit of Eastern 
 philosophy and life!' 
 
 Liverpool Mercury. — "Glowing with sensuousness, the light, 
 the colour of the East. . . . The ballads and love songs are 
 especially fine, and the work as a whole will add to its authors 
 already not inconsiderable fatne." 
 
 LONDON : KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER; & CO. L™ 
 
 7 
 
Sir E&wtn Htnol&'s poettcal Morfts. 
 
 Crown 8vo, pp. viii. and 264, cloth, price 6s. 
 
 LOTUS AND JEWEL. 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 "IN AN INDIAN TEMPL E," 
 
 "A CASKET OF GEMS," 
 
 "A QUEEN'S REVENGE." 
 
 With other Poems. 
 
 By Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I.E., C.S.I., &C &c. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 In an 
 
 ndian Temple. 
 
 A Caskut of Gems. 
 
 In 
 
 troduction. 
 
 F. 
 
 Fire-opals. 
 
 A. 
 
 Amethysts. 
 
 N. 
 
 Nephrite, Jade. 
 
 N. 
 
 Nacre and Pearls. 
 
 Y. 
 
 Yacut, Topazes. 
 
 M. 
 
 Moonstone. 
 
 A. 
 
 Aquamarine. 
 
 E. 
 
 Rubies. 
 
 I. 
 
 Idocrase, Garnets. 
 
 A. 
 
 Agates. 
 
 A. 
 
 Amber and Lazulite. 
 
 D. 
 
 Diamonds. 
 
 E. 
 
 Emeralds. 
 
 T 
 4J. 
 
 Ligure, Jacynths. 
 
 A. 
 
 An Aureus. 
 
 I. 
 
 lolite and Ivory. 
 
 D. 
 
 Dawn-stone. 
 
 E. 
 
 Euclase and Essonite 
 
 Laila. 
 
 In Westminster Abbey. 
 
 Atalanta. 
 
 Life {from Victor Hugo). 
 
 Hadrian's Address to his Soul. 
 
 The Depths of the Sea. 
 
 The Heavenly Secret. 
 
 An Adieu. 
 
 The Indian Judge. 
 
 Jeanne {from Victor Hugo). 
 
 A Rajptlt Nurse. 
 
 Zanouba's Song (from the Persian). 
 
 The Snake and the Baby. 
 
 From a Sikh Hymn. 
 
 A Farewell (from the French). 
 
 A Love-Song of Henri Quatre. 
 
 From the Sanskrit Anthology. 
 
 Basti Singh's Wife. 
 
 In Memory of S. S. 
 
 Epitaph on the Same. 
 
 From the Sanskrit 
 
 Grishma ; or, The Season of 
 
 Heat. 
 A Queen's Revenge. 
 
Sfc j£5wln Hrnol&'s "%otus an5 Jewel." 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 Daily Telegraph. — " Steeped in the lore and penetrated with 
 the love of India, Sir Edwin Arnold has accomplished that 
 which few other men would venture to attempt. He has brought 
 to English ears and English hearts the strange and wonderful 
 meanings of the Vedas and the Piiranas, blending the mystery 
 of Hinduism with the clear and noble sweetness of English 
 verse." 
 
 Daily News. — '^ If Sir Edwin Arnold owes his inspiration as 
 a poet to Indian air, where his imagination loves to dwell, and 
 his fancy seems radiant with all the light and colour and redolent 
 of all the perfumes of the East, he has itt these pages shown that 
 a poet is a poet all the world over, wherever the still sad music 
 of humanity is heard" 
 
 Pall Mall Gazette. — "Fully 7naintains Sir Edwin Arnold's 
 reputation. It contains three principal poems, of which the first 
 in order, '■In an Indian Temple j' seems to us the best. The second, 
 'A Casket of Gems,' is full of delicate and graceful fancy, its 
 diction is rich even to gorgeousness, while passages showing 
 depth of feeling occur again and again. The third, M Queen's 
 Revenge,' is a translation from the Sanskrit of the MahAbhdrata. 
 Powerful certainly it is, and it casts, as the author remarks, a 
 curious light 07t ' ancietit Indian life and manners' " 
 
 Echo. — "Sir Edwift Arnold is always very pleasant read- 
 ing. He takes us out of our surroundings, and puts us down 
 in an entirely different country" 
 
 Whitehall Review. — " Sir Edwin Arnold is a poet, ascholar, 
 and a student ; he knows what he is writing about, and he 
 writes beautifully. . . . He has brought many precious Eastern 
 things to our market, and so we are very grateful to him.." 
 
 Academy. — " The book is full of charm." 
 
 Bristol Mercury. — "Every 0}ie who loves poetry should get 
 this collection, and we shall be surprised if they do not say, when 
 they have read it, that the writer is a true poet." 
 
 Scotsman. — "Style and rhythm are, as in all this author's 
 poems, rich and melodious, the imagery is beautiful and appro- 
 priate, and the thoughts warm and noble.'' 
 
 LONDON : KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER, & CO. LP 
 A3 y 
 
Stc BDwfn arnol&'s Ipoetfcal Morfts. 
 
 Crown 8vo, pp. xiv. and 173, cloth, price 5s. 
 
 THE SONG CELESTIAL; 
 
 Or, bhagavad-gita. 
 
 {From the lifahdbhdraia.) 
 
 Being a Discourse between Arjuna, Prince of India, and the 
 Supreme Being, under the form of Krishna. 
 
 Translated from the Sanskrit. 
 By Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I. E., C.S.I., &c. &c. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 The Distress of Arjuna. 
 
 The Book of Doctrines. 
 
 Virtue in Work. 
 
 The Religion of Knowledge. 
 
 Religion of Renouncing Works. 
 
 Religion by Self- Restraint. 
 
 Religion by Discernment. 
 
 Religion by Service of the Supreme. 
 
 Religion by the Kingly Knowledge and the Kingly Mystery. 
 
 Religion by the Heavenly Perfections. 
 
 The Manifesting of the One and Manifold. 
 
 Religion of Faith. 
 
 Religion by Separation of Matter and Spirit. 
 
 Religion by Separation from the Qualities. 
 
 Religion by Attaining the Supreme. 
 
 The Separateness of the Divine and Undivine. 
 
 Religion by the Threefold Faith. 
 
 Religion by Deliverance and Renunciation. 
 
Sic JE&wfn Htnolb's "Song Celesttal." 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 TfMES OF India. — "Sir Edwin Arnold has, in fact, presented 
 us with a new poem of beautiful diction and splendid rhythm, as 
 indeed might have been expected from such a master of the 
 intricacies of versification!' 
 
 Morning Post. — " Sir Edwin Arnold has once moreenriched 
 our literature with a treasure drawn from the mine of Indian 
 lore. . , If ' The Song Celestial ' offers less narrative interest 
 than other works previously translated by Sir Edwin Arnold, it 
 excels them in elevation of tone, the effect of which is rendered 
 still more complete by the author's power and grace of diction.^' 
 
 Literary World. — " Sir Edwin Arnold merits our warmest 
 thanks for his scholarly and highly poetic rendering of this 
 famous poem!' 
 
 Liverpool Mercury. — "One feels the better for a book like 
 this which Sir Edwin Arnold has given us. That fulness of 
 thought and simplicity of presentment which everywhere distin- 
 guishes Eastern literature is nowhere more conspicuous than in 
 this admirable translation. The blank verse is strong and yet 
 pliable, easy to read and very musical, clear and yet strenuous!' 
 
 Leeds Mercury. — "Sir Edwin Arnold has again achieved 
 a notable success in a difficult task . . . he has given us a ?nost 
 readable and attractive metrical translation of the loftiest and 
 purest of the episodes of the huge Mahdbhdrata!' 
 
 Sheffield Independent. — "In Sir Edwin Arnold's trans- 
 lations these exquisite melodies captivate the English ear, and 
 lead one to wonder what they must be like in the Sanskrit text!' 
 
 Christian World. — " Far surpasses its predecessors i}i poetic 
 grace and attractiveness." 
 
 LONDON : KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER, & CO. LT? 
 
Sir jEDwin arnolb's ipoettcal Morfts. 
 
 Crown 8vo, pp. viii. and 406, cloth, price 6s. 
 
 THE SECRET OF DEATH. 
 
 {From the Sanskrit.") 
 
 WITH SOME COLLECTED POEMS. 
 
 By Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I. E., C.S.I., &c. &c. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Introduction. 
 The Secret of Death. 
 Hero and Leander. 
 The Epic of the Lion. 
 Nencia. 
 
 The Rajpoot Wife. 
 The CaUph's Daughter. 
 The Stratford Pilgrims. 
 Vernier. 
 King Saladin. 
 The Rajah's Ride. 
 A Bihari Mill-Song. 
 Hindoo Funeral Song. 
 Song of the Serpent-Charniers. 
 Song of the Flour-Mill. 
 "Students' Day" in the National 
 
 Gallery. 
 The Knight's Tomb at Svvanscombe 
 
 Church, 
 Adelaide Anne Procter. 
 The Three Roses. 
 Alia Mano Delia Mia Donna. 
 The Hymn of the Priestess of 
 
 Diana. 
 To a Sleeping Lady. 
 To Stella. 
 Lines Inscribed on a Skull picked 
 
 up on the Acropolis at Athens. 
 Dedication of a Poem from the 
 
 Sanscrit. 
 The New Lucian. 
 On the Death of the Princess Alice, 
 Facies Non Omnibus Una. 
 12 
 
 Armageddon. 
 
 The Four Crowns. 
 
 Havelock in Trafalgar Square. 
 
 Oxford Revisited. 
 
 A Duet. 
 
 The Altar of Pity. 
 
 The Cholera in Italy. 
 
 Rest. 
 
 The First Distribution of the Victoria 
 
 Cross. 
 The Wreck of the ' ' Northern Belle." 
 A Home Song. 
 Fond Fancies. 
 The Landing of the Princess of 
 
 Wales. 
 To F. C. H. 
 He and She. 
 
 On a Dead Lady (from the Italian), 
 The Three Students, 
 erenade. 
 Lydia {from Horace). 
 Dante and his Verses. 
 The Lost Pleiad. 
 Amadis of Gaul to Don Quixote de 
 
 la Mancha. 
 The Shadow of the Cross. 
 Christ Blessing Little Children. 
 On a Cyclamen, Plucked at Cana of 
 
 Galilee. 
 A Discourse of Buddha. 
 The Twelve Months. 
 A Dedication. 
 Translation from the Greek. 
 
Sfr JEbwfn ScnoID's "Secret of Deatb." 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 Morning Post. — "Each new work of Sir Edwin Arnold's 
 shows his style to he as vigorous, his imagination as fertile as 
 ever. He is unequalled as an exponent of the treasures to be 
 found in the rich mine of Oriental literature. . . . In the first 
 three ' Vallis' or ^ Lotus Stems' of the ' Katha Upanishad^ the 
 purest philosophical doctrines are conveyed in a species of par- 
 ables, full of Oriental imagery and vivid colouring!' 
 
 Daily Telegraph. — " Nothing can exceed the graceful purity, 
 the sympathetic and reverent tenderness, with which ' this lovely 
 lotus-blossom.' is unfolded by its faithful admirer'' 
 
 Globe. — " The story is told with a truly Oriental wealth of 
 imagery, and is no less vivid in its landscape than subtle in its 
 philosophy!' 
 
 Morning Advertiser. — " Every poem in the present collection 
 •will amply sustain Sir Edwin Arnold's reputation as a writer of 
 English verse of undoubted originality, versatility, and power!' 
 
 Scotsman. — " Translations and original poems alike give 
 proof of a scholarly and cultured taste, and of grace and dignity 
 of diction; and not seldom, of a fine combination of vigour of 
 phrase with delicacy of thought." 
 
 Illustrated London News. — "He has drawn upon the 
 treasures of Sanskrit, Greek, Latin, French, and German, for 
 his varied and interesting collection; and his touch is that not 
 only of a cunning hand, but of one who feels that respect is due 
 to what he touches" 
 
 The Whitehall Review. — " The poem is a great, almost a 
 priceless, contribution to religion, to poetry, and to thoiight." 
 
 Literary World. — "It can hardly fail to meet with a cordial 
 welcome from, those readers who never tire of the humbler 
 poetry which sings of love, and loss, and longing— themes as old 
 as life itself but which never lose their freshness and their charm. 
 A collection of poems like this, in which are gathered together the 
 gleanings and the memories of many years, is to a sympathetic 
 reader abnost like an hour of talk face to face; we expect a book 
 and we find a man" 
 
 LONDON : KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER, & CO. Lt" 
 
 13 
 
Sic E&wtn Hcnol&'s poetical morKs. 
 
 Crown 8vo, pp. xii. and 282, cloth, price 6s. 
 
 INDIAN IDYLLS. 
 
 {From the Sanskrit of the Mah&bhdrata.) 
 Bj Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I. E., C.S.I., &c. &c. 
 
 CONTENTS 
 SAVITRl; OR, LOVE AND DEATH. 
 NALA AND DAMAYANXl. 
 THE ENCHANTED LAKE. 
 THE SAINT'S TEMPTATION 
 THE BIRTH OF DEATH. 
 THE NIGHT OF SLAUGHTER. 
 THE GREAT JOURNEY. 
 THE ENTRY INTO HEAVEN. 
 
 EXTRACT FROM PREFACE. 
 
 ' ' The present volume contains (besides the two Parvas from my 
 'Indian Poetry') such translations as I have from time to time made 
 out of this prodigious epic {the Mah^bh^rata), which is sevenfold greater 
 in bulk than the Iliad and Odyssey taken together. The stories here 
 extracted are new to English literature, with the exception of a few passages 
 of the ' Sivitrl ' and the ' Nala and Damayanti,' which was long ago most 
 faithfully rendered by Dean Milman, the version being published side by 
 side with a clear and excellent Sanskrit text edited by Professor Monier 
 Williams, CLE. But that presentation of the beautiful and brilliant 
 legend, with all its conspicuous merits, seems better adapted to aid the 
 student than adequately to reproduce the swift march of narrative and 
 old-world charm of the Indian tale, which I also have therefore ventured 
 to transcribe, with all deference and gratitude to my predecessors." 
 14 
 
Sir ]E5wfn Brnol&'s "3n5fan J&sUs." 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 Daily Telegraph. — '^Nobody who reads the heart-stirring 
 epics put iftto magnificent rhythm which are contained z« this 
 book can ever again affect to despise the people whose genius 
 established such an imperishable monument." 
 
 Daily News. — '^ From these }nighty poems the author well 
 describes these Indian epics, compared with which Homer is a 
 modern ; he has translated some beautiful and touching episodic 
 legends, and readers of ' Sdvitrlj or, Love and Death! and of 
 '■ Nala and Damayanti,' for exa7?iple, will feel grateful to him 
 for having revealed to the somewhat jaded sensibilities of our 
 poets of to-day such a mine of inexhaustible spiritual Jertility, 
 and such treasures of emotional tenderness and imaginative 
 f?'eshness and simplicity." 
 
 Globe. — '' All the idylls are marked by the grace of diction 
 and tenderness of tone which are among Sir Edwin Arnold's 
 leading characteristics, while it needs scarcely to be said that 
 the style is pure and elevated throughout. The imagery, too, 
 is full offeree and fire." 
 
 Fortnightly Review. — "l7ihis recently published volume of 
 ''Indian Idylls^ Sir Edwin A mold continues his task of interpret- 
 ing to English readers the tender thoughts and graceful imagery 
 of the East. 1 'he volume consists of eight graphic pieces from the 
 ' Mahdbhdrata,' one of the two colossal and unparalleled epic 
 poems of India, which were not known to Europe even by name 
 till Sir William Jones announced their existence" 
 
 St. James's Gazette. — "5zV Edwin Arnold has eaten of the 
 lotus-fruit of Eastern song, and finds it hard to leave it. A7id 
 of this we are far from complaining, seeing that this taste of 
 his has enabled many of us to travel into ^realms of gold' 
 which we could hardly enter without some such skilful guide." 
 
 New York Times. — "The '■Indian Idylls' partake of the 
 same character as his previous works, ' The Light of Asia! 
 ' Pearls of the Faith! ^^^^ others, being deeply imbued with the 
 spirit of Oriental poetry, and having the power of rendering 
 that spirit in English language with a verisimilitude and force 
 which cannot fail to convince the reader of the truth of its 
 colouring." 
 
 LONDON : KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER, & CO. L™ 
 
 IS 
 
Sir iE5wfn HrnolJ)'s poetical MorFjs. 
 
 Crown 8vo, pp. xiv. and 320, with green borders, 
 cloth, price 6s. 
 
 PEARLS OF THE FAITH; 
 
 Or, ISLAM'S ROSARY. 
 
 Being the Ninety-nine Beautiful Names of Allah 
 (Asmi-el-'Husni). 
 
 With Coinments in Verse frojn varioiis Oriental Sources. 
 As 7nade by an Indian Mussulman. 
 
 By Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I.E., C.S.I., &c. &c. 
 
 Allah. 
 
 Ar-Rahm^n. 
 Ar-Raheem. 
 Al-Milik. 
 Al-Kuddfts. 
 As-Salim. 
 Al-Maumin. 
 Al-Muhaimin. 
 Al-Hathim. 
 Al-Jabbte. 
 Al-Mutakabbir. 
 Al-Khalik. 
 Al-Bari. 
 Al-Muzawwir. 
 Al-Ghaffar. 
 Ai-Kahhar. 
 Al-Wahhab. 
 Ar-Raz2^ 
 Al-Fati'h. 
 Al-'Alim. 
 Al-Kabiz. 
 Al-Basit. 
 Al-Khafiz. 
 Ar-Rafi. 
 Al-Muhizz. 
 Al-Muzlll. 
 As-Sami'h. 
 Al-Bazlr. 
 Al-Hakim. 
 Al-H4dil. 
 Al-Latif. 
 Al-Khablr. 
 Al-HaUm. 
 AI-'Aziz. 
 16 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Al-Ghafir. 
 
 Ash-Shakir. 
 
 Al-'Alee. 
 
 Al-Kabir. 
 
 Al-Hafiz. 
 
 Al-Muklt. 
 
 Al-Hasib. 
 
 Al-Jamll. 
 
 Al-Karlm. 
 
 Ar-Raklb. 
 
 Al-Mujtb. 
 
 Al-Was'ih. 
 
 Al-Hakim al Mutlak. 
 
 Al-Wadood. 
 
 Al-Majld. 
 
 Al-Bahith. 
 
 Ash-Shahld. 
 
 Al-Hakk. 
 
 Al-WaMl. 
 
 Al-Kawi. 
 
 Al-Mateen. 
 
 Al-Wall. 
 
 Al-Hamld. 
 
 Al-Mtthsi. 
 
 Al-Mubd!. 
 
 Al-Mu'hid. 
 
 Al-Mo'hyl. 
 
 Al-Mumlt. 
 
 Al-Haiy. 
 
 Al-Kalv(im. 
 
 Al-Wajid. 
 
 AI-W4hid. 
 
 As-Samad. 
 
 Al-Kadar. 
 
 Al-Muktadir. 
 
 Al-Mukaddim. 
 
 Al-MOakhkhir. 
 
 Al-Awwal. 
 
 Al-Akhir. 
 
 Ath-Thahir. 
 
 Al-Batin. 
 
 Ai-wait. 
 
 Al-Mutahaii. 
 
 Al-Barr. 
 
 Al-Tawwab. 
 
 Al-Muntakim. 
 
 Al-Ghafoor. 
 
 Al-Rawdf. 
 
 Maiik-ul-Mulki. 
 
 Dhu'l jalal wa Ikram, 
 
 Al-Muksit. 
 
 Al-Jami 'h. 
 
 Al-Ghani. 
 
 Al-Mughnl, 
 
 Al-Mu'hti. 
 
 Al-Mani'h. 
 
 An-Nafi'h. 
 
 Az-2arr. 
 
 An-Noor. 
 
 Al-Hadl. 
 
 Al-Azali. 
 
 Al-Bakl. 
 
 Al-Warith. 
 
 Ar-Raschld. 
 
 Az-Zaboor. 
 
 Notes. 
 
Sit je&witt Hrnol&'s "pearls of tbe jfaitb." 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 Times. — "Sir Edwin Arnold has succeeded in producing a 
 delightful collection of Oriental stories in verse!' 
 
 Illustrated London News (G. A. SalaX — " I am reading 
 Sir Edwin Arnold's book with intense delight, for the sake oj 
 its majesty and eloquence, its wealth and beauty of imagery, and 
 its sweet and harmonious numbers" 
 
 Daily Telegraph. — "// will take its place in contemporary 
 literature as of the highest class." 
 
 Standard. — "Sir Edwin Arnold has caught the spirit of the 
 Eastern original, so childlike and yet so sage, so simple yet so 
 profound, so tender in feeling yet so strong in seiue." 
 
 Daily News. — " In the present poem he sets to musical words 
 the rosary of an Indian Mussulman, and really displays an 
 astonishing wealth and variety of mystical and devotional 
 imagery and allegory, not without a keen perception of the finer 
 and larger human feeling and instinct which has given to the 
 faith of the Moslem its fascination, and is, perhaps, the secret 
 ofitspower." 
 
 Daily Chronicle. — " The subject is invested with fascinating 
 beauty by the wealth of Oriental illustrations displayed." 
 
 Scotsman. — "Sir Edwin Arnold brings to the performance 
 of his task peculiar qualifications — great poetic gifts, broad 
 sympathies, and extensive knowledge of Oriental tongues, ideas, 
 and methods of thought." 
 
 Society. — " There is such a delightful imagery and rhyth- 
 mical cadence in every line that it positively thrills one with a 
 feeling of abounding pleasure. The air of pure devotion, the 
 unsurpassable power of description, the inimitable eloquence and 
 wonderful grace, displayed with a lavish profusion, render this 
 work almost peerless" 
 
 Vanity Fair. — " We cordially recommend this book to those 
 who know the world of Islam and to those who do not. The 
 former will be pleased to see in an English dress that which 
 they have admired in its Eastern garb ; the latter will be sur- 
 prised to find how much the Mohammedan traditions resemble 
 those which they have been accustomed to revere both in the Old 
 Testament and the New, and to adm.ire in some of the m,ore 
 solemn portions of the '■ Arabian Nights!" 
 
 LONDON: KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER, & CO. LIp 
 
 17 
 
5ft JEDwfn Hrnolb's poetical Mor?5S. 
 
 Post 8vo, pp. viii. and 270, cloth, price 6s. 
 
 INDIAN POETRY: 
 
 Containing "The Indian Song of Songs," 
 
 From the Sanskrit of the " Gita Govinda " qfjayadeva; Two 
 
 Books from " The Iliad of India" {Mahdbhdrata), '■'■Proverbial 
 
 Wisdom" from the Shlokas of the Hitopadesa, 
 
 and other Oriental Poems. 
 
 By Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I.E., C.S.I., &c. &c 
 
 18 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 The Indian Song of Songs — 
 Introduction. 
 Hymn to Vishnu. 
 
 Sarga the First— The Sports of Krishna. 
 Sarga the Second — The Penitence of Krishna. 
 Sarga the Third — Krishna Troubled. 
 Sarga the Fourth — Krishna cheered. 
 Sarga the Fifth — The Longings of Krishna. 
 Sarga the Sixth — Krishna made bolder. 
 Sarga the Seventh — Krishna supposed False. 
 Sarga the Eighth— The Rebuking of Krishna. 
 Sarga the Ninth— The End of Krishna's Trial. 
 Sarga the Tenth — Krishna in Paradise. 
 Sarga the Eleventh — The Union of Radha and Krishna. 
 
 Miscellaneous Oriental Poems — 
 The Rajpoot Wife. 
 King Saladin. 
 The Caliph's Draught 
 Hindoo Funeral Song. 
 Song of the Serpent Charmers. 
 Song of the Flour-Mill 
 Taza ba Taza. 
 The Mussulman Paradise. 
 Dedication of a Poem from the Sanskrit. 
 The Rajah's Ride. 
 
 Two Books from the " Iliad of India.'' 
 The Great Journey. 
 The Entry into Heaven. 
 
 The Night of Slaughter. 
 
 The Morning Prayer. 
 
 Proverbial Wisdom from the Shlokas of the Hitopadesa. 
 
Sit JEbwfn Hrnolb's "5n&(an poetrg." 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 Times. — "fn this new volume Sir Edwin Arnold does good 
 service by illustrating, through the medium of his musical 
 English melodies, the power of Indian poetry to stir European 
 emotions. ' The Indian Song of Songs ' is not unknown to 
 scholars. Sir Edwin Arnold will have ijitroduced it among 
 popular English poems!' 
 
 Morning Post. — " Complete mastery of the English language, 
 combined with genuine poetic fervour, has enabled the translator 
 of^ The Indian Song of Songs' to spread before his readers a 
 feast of dulcet sounds and lyrical language. Music seems to flow 
 from his pen as naturally as rain from the cloud or song from 
 the throat of the thrush'' 
 
 Standard. — " The poem abounds with imagery of Eastern 
 luxuriousness and sensuousness j the air seems laden with the 
 spicy odours of the tropics, and the verse has a richness and a 
 melody sufficient to captivate the senses of the dullest" 
 
 Scotsman. — '''■Sir Edwin Arnold has translated into English 
 verse, from, the original Sanskrit, the ' Gita Govinda, or Song of 
 Govind,' a sort of Indian parallel to the Hebrew song so called 
 of Solomon. . . . Sir Edwin Arnold exhibits himself a master of 
 the accomplishment of verse. . . . The volume furnishes an hour's 
 very agreeable and refined poetical reading'' 
 
 Academy. — "It has been reserved to Sir Edwin Arnold to 
 give us such a version as can convey to the European reader an 
 adequate idea of the beauty of fayadevds verse. It is the best 
 yet published, and is not likely to be soon surpassed!' 
 
 London Quarterly Review. — " Sir Edwin Arnold has be- 
 stowed his unquestionable poetic talents on a very worthy object 
 in translating the Sanskrit idyll, ' Gita Govind^ into English 
 verse. . . . ^ The Indian Song of Songs' is distinctly a new pos- 
 session for the lovers of English exotic poetry!' 
 
 Overland Mail. — " The translator, while producing a very 
 enjoyable poem, has adhered with tolerable fidelity to the original 
 text!' 
 
 The Englishman (Calcutta). — "/« Sir Edwin Arnold this 
 beautiful composition has found at once an elegant translator. 
 He has contrived to present the ' Song of Songs ' in a dress, while 
 it preserves the spirit of the original, that can hardly fail to 
 fascinate the English reader. It has none of the stiffness of a 
 translation, and no more of strangeness than necessarily belongs 
 to Oriental m.etaphor and imagery!' 
 
 LONDON: KEGAN PAUL. TRENCH, TRUBNER, & CO. LI? 
 
 19 
 
Sir E&wfn arnol6's ipoetical TOTlorfts. 
 
 Crown 8vo, pp. xii. and 294, cloth, price 6s. 
 
 Elzevir 8vo, printed on hand-made paper, 6s. 
 
 Pott 8vo, cloth gilt, or half parchment uncut, price 3s. 6d. 
 
 THE LIGHT OF ASIA; 
 
 Or, the great renunciation. 
 
 {Mahabhinishkramana.) 
 
 Being the Life and Teaching of Gautama, Prince of India, and 
 
 Founder of Buddhism. 
 
 (As told in Verse by an Indian Buddhist.) 
 
 By Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I. E., C.S.I., &c. &c. 
 
 An Illustrated Edition is also published, 
 
 Small 4to cloth, price 21s. 
 
 EXTRACT FROM PREFACE. 
 
 *' In the following poem I have sought, by the medium of an imaginary 
 Buddhist votary, to depict the life and character and indicate the philosophy 
 of that noble hero and reformer, Prince Gautama of India, the founder of 
 Buddhism. 
 
 " A generation ago little or nothing was known in Europe of this great 
 faith of Asia, which had nevertheless existed during twenty-four centuries, 
 and at this day surpasses, in the number of its followers and the area of 
 its prevalence, any other form of creed. Four hundred and seventy millions 
 of our race live and die in the tenets of Gautama ; and the spiritual domi- 
 nions of this ancient teacher extend, at the present time, from Nepaul and 
 Ceylon, over the whole Eastern Peninsula, to China, Japan, Thibet, Cen- 
 tral Asia, Siberia, and even Swedish Lapland. India itself might fairly be 
 included in this magnificent Empire of Belief ; for though the profession of 
 Buddhism has for the most part passed away from the land of its birth, 
 the mark of Gautama's sublime teaching is stamped ineffaceably upon 
 modern Brahmanism, and the most characteristic habits and convictions of 
 tlie Hindus are clearly due to the benign influence of Buddha's precepts. 
 More than a third of mankind, therefore, owe their moral and religious 
 ideas to this illustrious prince ; whose personality, though imperfectly re- 
 vealed in the existing sources of information, 'cannot but appear the highest, 
 gentlest, holiest, and most beneficent, with one exception, in the history of 
 thought. . . . To Gautama has consequently been granted this stupendous 
 conquest of humanity ; and — though he discountenanced ritual, and de- 
 clared himself, even when on the threshold of Nirvana, to be only what 
 all other men might become — the love and gratitude of Asia, disobeying 
 his mandate, have given him fervent worship. Forests of flowers are daily 
 laid upon his stainless shrines, and countless millions of hps daily repeat 
 the formula, ' I take refuge in Buddha ! ' 
 
 "The Buddha of this poem — if, as need not be doubted, he really existed 
 —was born on the borders of Nepaul about 620 B.C., and died about 
 543 B.C. at Kusinagara in Oudh. In point of age, therefore, most other 
 creeds are youthful compared with this venerable religion, which has in it 
 the eternity of a universal hope, the immortality of a boundless love, an 
 indestructible element of faith in final good, and the proudest assertion ever 
 made of human freedom. . . . My purpose has been attained if any just 
 conception be here conveyed of the lofty character of this noble prince, and 
 of the general purport of his doctrines." 
 
Sir Et>wm arnolb's "Xigbt of Hsfa." 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 International Review (Oliver Wendell Holmes). — " /i is 
 a work of great beauty. It tells a story of intense interest, which 
 never flags for a moment; its descriptions are drawn by the 
 hand of a master with the eye of a poet and the familiarity of 
 an expert with the objects described j its tone is so lofty that 
 there is nothing with which to compare it but the New Testa- 
 ment; it is full of variety, now picturesque, now pathetic, 
 now rising into the noblest realms of thought and aspiration j 
 it finds language penetrating, fluent, elevated, impassioned, musi- 
 cal always, to clothe its varied thoughts and sentiments" 
 
 MoRNiNQ Post. — " Sir Edwin Arnold, one of the most musical 
 and thoughtful of modern writers of verse, has given to the 
 world in The Light of Asia' a poem, which is for many reasons 
 remarkable. . . . Not the least of his merits is that he writes 
 such pure and delicious English. . . . ' The Light of Asia ' is a 
 noble and worthy poem." 
 
 Spectator. — "Perhaps the only poetic account in a European 
 tongue of an Asiatic faith which is at all adequate, and which 
 seems destined to bring its author a singular fate. It is being 
 translated into Asiatic tongues ; and it is quite possible that 
 two hundred years hence Sir Edwin Arnold, half forgotten at 
 home, except by students, may amongst the innumerable peoples 
 who profess Buddhism be regarded as a psalmist!' 
 
 Bookseller. — " The subtle melody of Sir Edwin Arnolds 
 verse, apart from the absorbing interest of his theme, is more 
 than sufficient to account for the sustained favour with which 
 his wonderful poem is regarded" 
 
 Calcutta Englishman. — "In Sir Edwin Artiold, Indiati 
 poetry and Indian thought have at length found a worthy Eng- 
 lish exponent. He brings to his work the facility of a ready pen, a 
 thorough knowledge of his subject, a great sympathy for the people 
 of this country, and a commaiid of public attention at home!' 
 
 THE ILIiUSTBATBD EDITION. 
 
 Times. — "The volume differs agreeably from most modern 
 editions de luxe in being of a portable size." 
 
 Athen/eum. — " Our notice of the illustrated edition of the 
 'Light of Asia' m-ay be confined to the neat and carefid wood- 
 cuts which illustrate the text — almost all Buddhist sculptures 
 selected to suit the poem, some of them being 2000 years old, and 
 representing scenes in the life of Gautama Buddha, the founder 
 of Buddhism and hero of Sir Edwin Arnold's verse" 
 
 Saturday Review. — " Admirers of Sir Edwin Arnold's suave 
 and melodious verse will welcome the illustrated edition de luxe 
 of the '■Light of Asia,' which is handsome in paper and print, 
 and of convenient bulk!' 
 
 LONDON: KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER, & CO. L^? 
 
Sir E&win 2lrnol5's ©rtental poetry?. 
 
 UNIFORM EDITION. 
 
 The following Eight Volumes may be had, uniform in size 
 and binding, price £2, 8s. Sold only in Sets. 
 
 THE LIGHT OF ASIA; 
 
 Or, the great RENUNCIATION. 
 
 INDIAN POETRY: 
 
 THE INDIAN SONG OF SONGS, &c. 
 
 PEARLS OF THE FAITH; 
 
 Or, ISLAM'S ROSARY. 
 
 INDIAN IDYLLS. 
 
 FROM THE SANSKRIT. 
 
 THE SECRET OF DEATH. 
 
 FROM THE SANSKRIT. 
 
 THE SONG CELESTIAL; 
 
 Or, BHAGAVAD-GITA. From the Sanskrit. 
 
 LOTUS AND JEWEL. 
 
 With Translations from the Sanskrit. 
 
 WITH SA'DI IN THE GARDEN; 
 
 Or, THE BOOK OF LOVE. 
 
 For description of the separate volumes, see previous pages. 
 
 LONDON : KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER, & CO. LTP 
 
Bs tbe same Hutbor. 
 
 Crown 8vo, pp. 324, cloth, price 6s. 
 
 INDIA REVISITED. 
 
 BY 
 
 Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I.E., C.S.I., &c. &c 
 
 With Thirty-two Full-Page Illustrations, from Photographs 
 selected by the Author. 
 
 "/^ is beyond all comparison the very best description of 
 India, as it looks to the intelligent European traveller, that ever 
 ■was written. Numbers of us have seen India as Sir Edwin 
 Arnold saw itj but only a man of genius could have thrown 
 his impressions upon paper in the way that he has done. No 
 one, whether he knows the country or does not know it, will rise 
 from the perusal of the volume without a quickened sense of 
 the vast responsibilities which we have undertaken in India, 
 and a quickened affection for the Indian people." — The Right 
 Hi)ii. Sir M. E. Grant-Duff, ex-Governor of Madras, in the 
 " Contemporary Review.' 
 
 Spectator. — "No one who takes it up will lay it down 
 unfinished, and no one will lay it down without knowing that 
 he has obtained something he never possessed before, that he has 
 solidly benefited- in some way which even to himself he can 
 hardly explain. . . . The reader has seen India, or part of it, as 
 if he had been there himself P 
 
 Morning Post. — " The tnost graphic account of the peoples, 
 ideas, and aspects of contemporary India which has hitherto been 
 prodticed." 
 
 Athen/eum. — " A series of glowing word-pictures. The illus- 
 trations, copied seemingly from photographs, are numerous and 
 well-chosen, especially the architectural views." 
 
 BiRMiNQHAM DAILY PosT. — " We know of no book of so unpre- 
 tending a nature which impa?'ts so much valuable information 
 on India." 
 
 Manchester Examiner. — " We cannot help unconsciously 
 identifying ourselves, until we almost believe that we are 
 indeed hearing and seeing the things of which we are reading" 
 
 Scotsman. — " Written in a charming style. . . . Scenes and 
 characters are brought before the mind with a wondrous reality!^ 
 
 Asiatic Quarterly Review. — " The perusal of Sir Edwin 
 Arnold's pages is an intellectual and humanising treat." 
 
 Indian Daily News (Calcutta). — "Those of us who have had 
 experience of Indian life can follow him, and live our lives 
 again in his pages" 
 
 Times of India. — " A charming book" 
 
 LONDON : KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER, & CO. L™ 
 
 23 
 
3Bb tbe same HutDor. 
 
 Crown 8vo, pp. 62, cloth, price is. 6d. ; paper, is. 
 
 DEATH-AND AFTERWARDS. 
 
 BY 
 
 Sir EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., K.C.I.E., C.S.I., &c. &C., 
 
 Author of " The Light of Asia," &c. 
 
 Reprinted, with Supplementary Comments, from the 
 
 Fortnightly Review. 
 
 Morning Post.^ — "Its views are novel, and often consoling, 
 and the manner in which they are expressed has the refined 
 grace of all which proceeds from Sir Edwin Arnold' s pen}^ 
 
 Globe. — " There is much matter for reflection in these thought- 
 fulpages." 
 
 Echo. — " Profoundly interesting." 
 
 Westminster Review. — "Has no doubt been read with plea- 
 sure by many." 
 
 Manchester Guardian. — "^ notable essay on the problem oj 
 immortality. . . . Sir Edwin Arnold's booklet is likely to attract 
 attention!' 
 
 Bristol Mercury. — " There are, undoubtedly, many original 
 and quaitit ideas set forth in the book." 
 
 Aberdeen Daily Free Press. — " This subtle and suggestive 
 essay on the immortality of the soul, by one of the most cultured 
 of living poets . . . is inspired by a pure and emphatic faith, 
 based on thorough scholarship and poetic insight" 
 
 British Weekly. — "Sir Edwin Arnold has been wisely 
 advised in reprinting from the Fortnightly Review his article, 
 ^ Death — and Afterwards! It effectually breaks windows 
 through the prison walls which materialism and unbelief build 
 around us, and suffers us to breathe an ampler air. Nothing 
 could surpass these few pages in felicity of statement or if 
 persuasiveness" 
 
 LONDON : KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER, & CO. LIP 
 24