Let it not be concealed from inquiring minds that at about the time when His Majesty the Shāhinshāh, the young shoot of the parterre of insight, obtained leave to go to the Panjāb, there fre­quently rose on the lips of His Majesty Jahānbānī Jinnat Āshiyānī the mention of a departure to the world of holiness. Contrary to his laudable habit of regarding such references as unbecoming (makrūh), as being repugnant to the management of affairs, and of avoiding them in conversation, he now took pleasure in speaking on the subject. Seemingly the flash had pictured itself in the ante­chamber of his mystery-knowing heart. Among such references there was this that one day he quoted with commendation the true words of His Majesty Getī-sitānī Firdūs-Makānī, when he remarked in a meeting of friends that a servant of his used to say that when­ever he saw the graves in Ghaznīn* he felt an inclination to die. Following up this, His Majesty would say that when he contemplated* Delhi and its shrines the words recurred to his memory, and he thought how sweet they were! At about the same time and when he was proceeding towards the eternal world he said to several of his familiars: “This day after paying my morning devotions a mysterious thing occurred and a secret inspiration brought this quatrain on my lips:”—

Verse.

“O God, make me wholly Thine.
Acquaint me with Thine attributes.
Tyrannous Reason hath crippled my soul.
Call me Thine own madman* and set me free.”

Tears fell from his truth-seeing eyes while he was reciting these lines, and complete detachment was manifested on his irradiated brows. About the time, too, when the Court was at Delhi, the eye-brightener of the khilāfat, to wit, His Majesty the Shāhinshāh, one night beheld in a dream that someone was pulling up his* musky (i.e., black) locks. When he awoke he told the dream to Māham Anaga, the mother of Adham Khān. She summoned all the skilled interpreters and asked them what the dream portended. When this question was put to His Majesty Jahānbānī he said: “Evil will be far from his (Akbar's) head.” Afterwards he told them quietly of his own inevitable doom, and administered consolation to them. Con­stantly during those days he was uttering words which had for the organs of the farseeing among the courtiers the savour of a passage from this transitory world which all must quit, and which divided* the joints and marrow of the faithful of soul. Among other things, he wrote with his own hand on the arch of his portico these opening lines of a poem by Shaikh Āẕarī:—*

Verse.

I've heard that on this gilded dome (the sky) 't is writ
The end* of all things is praiseworthy.

He also when near his departure reduced his consumption of opium, so much so that he said to his intimates “We'll see for how many more days two or three pellets (habb) will suffice.” He had seven days' divided supply and wrapped in paper, and made over to his body-servants, and he said to them “this is all the opium we shall eat.” On the day which was the first stage of his journey to the region of holiness and detachment, there remained four pellets. He sent for these, and partook* thereof in rosewater.

At the close* of Friday Rabī'-al-awwal 963, Shāh Budāgh,* ‘Ālam* Shāh, Beg Mūlak,* and others who had returned from the Ḥijāz, and Caghatāī Khān and some men from Gujrāt came and made reports. Also Pahlwān Dōst Mīr Barr, and Maulānā Asad came from Kābul with representations from Mun‘im Khān. At the end of the day he came out on the roof of the library which had recently been fitted up, and gave the people who were assembled at the chief mosque the blessing of performing homage (kornish). For a con­siderable time he asked questions about Holy Mecca and about Gujrāt and Kābul.

After that he sent for all the mathematicians, for it was expected that Venus would rise on that night and he wished to observe her. It was his excellent intention that when Venus rose and the moment became auspicious he would hold a grand assembly and make promo­tions of officers. At the beginning of the evening he wished to descend and when he came to the second* step, a reciter (muqrī), by name Miskīn (wretched), raised an untimely call to prayer. His Majesty, out of respect to the call, wished to sit down where he was. As the steps (darjāt) of the stair (zīná.) were sharp (tez) and the stones slippery (laghzanda) his blessed foot caught in the skirt of his robe at the moment of sitting down and his good staff slipped. He lost his feet and fell upon his head, his right temple receiving a severe blow, so that some drops of blood issued from his right ear. As he possessed a heart acquainted with mysteries he immediately, and in order that he might give comfort and also make dispositions for the world, sent an affectionate dispatch containing a report of his wel­fare to the nursling of the light of fortune by the hands of Nar* Shaikh Cūlī.

One of the wondrous flashes of his (Akbar's) intelligence was that in the middle of that very day (the day of the accident, not of the announcement) he had* said to some of his suite that a great mis­fortune would happen to an eminent man and that probably he would die.

The loyalists who were on the spot endeavoured to conceal* the dreadful occurrence and took measures to send information to the heir-apparent of the masnad of the khilāfat and to collect the principal officers who had obtained leave to various parts of the kingdom. With extreme prudence they kept this life-destroying event from the public for seventeen days. Those who were present at court and the counsellors of the threshold of the khilāfat, viz., Khiẓr Khwāja Khān, ‘Alī Qulī Khān, Laīf Mīrzā, Khiẓr Khān Hazāra, Qūndūq Khān, Qambar ‘Alī Beg, Ashraf Khān, Afẓal Khān, who were in the list of helpful ministers (wuzrāī kifāyāt pēsha) and Khwāja Ḥusain of Merv, Mīr ‘Abdu-l-Ḥai, Pēshrau Khān, Mihtar Khān, and after some days Tardī Beg Khān, who inscribed on his heart's tablet the office of Amīr-al-Umarā* (Blochmann, 240) assembled together and on the 28th of the same month, 11th February, 1556, they recited the khuba in the famous name and lofty titles of the khedive of the age, and so healed and mended the distracted world and gave the terrene and terrestrials a message of enduring restora­tion. The stewards of heaven, who had been in expectation of this, rejoiced, ‘and the desires of the administrators of the natural world were accomplished. Mīr ‘Abdu-l-Ḥai Ṣadr recited this couplet:—

Verse.

If the world's new year be destroyed,
Let the hundred-leaved red rose remain.

Several persons had recited this verse, and it had become well known and had been made the subject of conversation at assemblies. A strange thing was that at the same time one of the literate (faẓlā) had found the second line* to give the date of the accession of the Khedive of the Age, but this was by writing the word gul with an ī, gulī, though in one sense the ordinary orthography does not lend itself to this form. And during the days of concealing this fatal affair they on one occasion dressed up Mullā Bēkasī* in the clothes of the deceased (lit: that pardoned pinnacle) and brought him out on the top of the terrace (aiwān) which was His Majesty's place of sitting, and showed him to the people with his face towards the river. The people performed the kornīsh and were in some measure relieved from their distress and confusion.

When the sad misfortune was made known a great disturbance and trouble, such as was natural at a crisis like this, arose. The officers exerted themselves to soothe hearts and give people confi­dence and did what was proper at this time of dispersion both in respect of friends and of foes. They did what they could to mend the breach and to cement the crack. And how could the bond (‘aqd) of the eternal fortune of this noble family not attain corroboration and shape when the world-adorning glory of the per­sonality of His Majesty the Shāhinshāh, the true heir of sovereignty, had seized the summit of the throne of the khilāfat of the terrene and of terrestrials. Good God! How could it enter into the circle of the thoughts and imaginings of the farseeing that a being so won­drous in his perfections and so befriended of fortune, at once the arranger of the visible world and the acquirer of spirituality, should so soon leave this earth? But as the time had come when the Creator would give rejuvenescence to the old world and give a new education to mankind,—a time which had not arrived in many cycles of the past,—of necessity He designed to exhibit the nobly-constituted and consummate paragon who should be the perfection of mortals. Con­sequently the occurrence of this unavoidable event, though in the eyes of the superficial a subject of mourning and sorrow, might be reckoned by the eyes of the mature of vision as a treasury of glory and beauty. For by the bounteous presence of this sublime pearl of sovereignty the visible and invisible worlds became again glorious, and the market-square of dominion, spiritual and temporal, became active. And as the lofty intelligence of this lord of the age was come to per­fection, and the constituent elements of the rule of this great-thoughted one had been put in order and the die of dominion had turned up inscribed with his name, seeing that with real ancestorhood he wore the vesture of sonship, if the ruler of the age (Humāyūn) had on account of his right-seeing and good qualities been preserved in the prison of visible life, it must have followed that, on account of the submission to the noblest, which is proper according to the rules of wisdom, this eminent one of the age (Humāyūn) should submit to the nursling of light (Akbar). But as the robe of fatherhood is an imposing one and cometh from God, it could not harmonise with obedience to the offspring. Also the happiness of children cannot be recorded in the book of fate except when they submit to their fathers and obey their behests. Consequently it was unavoidable that the beginning of the feast of fortune should be the lord of the earth's leav­ing this world.

In fine, after giving consolations and congratulations, the imperial servants who were collected in Delhi separated in order to unite distracted hearts, and each hastened to his own place. Tardī Beg Khān, who in concert with them was at Delhi, in order to arrange the affairs of this city, sent the insignia of sovereignty along with Ghulām ‘Alī Shashangasht and other trusty servants to the world-protecting court and made declarations of obedience and devotion. M. Abū-l-Qāsim,* the son of M. Kāmrān, was also sent to do homage.