83. ¹Jigar, ú ²ján, u ³chashm, u ⁴chihr-i-man-ast, dar gham-i-'ishq-
i-án but-i-Farkhár,
84. Ham bi-gham⁴ khasta, ham zi-tan² mahjúr, ham bi-khún³ gharqa,
ham zi zakhm¹ afgár.

“My ¹heart, and ²soul, and ³eye, and ⁴face are, in love-longing for
that fair one of Farkhár,
Sick⁴ with grief, parted² from the body, submerged³ in blood,
weakened¹ by wounds.

The other kind o?? tafsír is exemplified in the next two verses:—

85. Khurd,¹ u khurdam² bi-'ishq-i-án ná-kám; hast,³ u hastam⁴ zi
hajr-i-ú ná-chár;
86. Ú mará khún,¹ u man wará andúh²; ú zi man shád,³ u man zi
ú gham-khwár.⁴

“She consumes,¹ and I consume² in her love in spite of myself;
she is,³ and I am,⁴ willing or no, through her separation;
She my blood,¹ and I her grief²; she glad³ through me, and
I sorrowful⁴ through her.”

The next two verses give an instance of what is called Kalám-i-jámi'. kalám-i-jámi', which “is when the poet treats on morality, philosophy, or worldly delights”:—

87. Mú-yam az gham sapíd gasht chu shír: dil zi miḥnat siyáh
gasht chú qár,
88. Ín zi 'aks-i-balá kashíd khiḍáb, W'án zi ráh-i-jafá girift ghubár.

“Through grief, my hair hath turned white as milk; through
sorrow my heart hath become black as pitch;
This derived its tint from the reflection of [dark] affliction,
while that was powdered with the dust of sorrow's path.”

Ḥusn-i-makhlaṣ, or “apt transition,” the figure next illus­trated, means that in the guríz-gáh, or “transition-verse” (see Ḥusn-i-makhlaṣ. pp. 30 and 32, n. 1), the poet passes gracefully and skilfully from the exordium of his qaṣída to the qaṣd or purpose (panegyric or otherwise) which he has in view:—

89. Gham-i-dil gar bi-bast bázár-am, madḥ-i-shah mí-kusháyad-am
bázár.

“If the heart's sorrow hath closed my market, the praise of the
King re-opens it.”

The next figure illustrated is tazalzul or mutazalzil, which means “shaking” or “shaken” to the foundations, as by an Tazalzul. earthquake (zalzala), and is, as Gladwin says (p. 32), “when there is a word of which, upon changing the vowel-point of one letter only, the sense is altered entirely”:—

90. Shah Qizil Arslán, ki dast u dil-ash hast khaṣm-shumár u
khaṣm-i-shumár.

“King Qizil Arslán, * whose hand and heart are [respectively] an
accounter for enemies and an enemy to accounts.”*

Ibdá', the figure next displayed, means in Rhetoric “re-originating,” “reconstructing,” or “re-creating,” that is,

Ibdá'. expressing in similar but different form the thought of some previous poet or writer, while giving it a new meaning or application; which procedure, though bordering on sirqat, or “plagiarism,” is not (like other plagiarisms of form or meaning, viz., intikhál, maskh, and salkh: see Rückert, pp. 188-191) reckoned a fault, but a merit. To judge of the comparative value of a verse inspired by another as regards either form or meaning, it is necessary to be ac­quainted with the original, which, unfortunately, I am not in the following instance:—

91. Ḥazm-ash áwurda bád-rá bi-sukún: 'azm-ash afganda khák-rá
bi-madár.

“His resolve brings the wind to a standstill: his determination
casts the dust into a whirl.”

The next verse illustrates the simple figure called ta'ajjub,

Ta'ajjub. “astonishment”:—

92. Já-yi dur gar mayána-i-daryást, az chi ma'níst dast-i-ú dur-
bár?

“If the place for pearls is in the midst of the sea, for what reason
does his hand rain pearls?”

The answer to this question contained in the next verse Ḥusn-i-ta'líl. affords an instance of ḥusn-i-ta'líl, or “poetical ætiology,” which consists in explaining a real fact by a fanciful or poetical cause:—

93. Raghm-i-daryá, ki bukhl mí-warzad, Ú kunad mál bar jahán
íthár.

“To spite the sea, which practises avarice, he scatters wealth on
the world.”

Here the king's liberality is ascribed to disgust at the stingi­ness of the ocean, though this typifies liberality, so that daryá-dast (“ocean-handed”) is used as a synonym for bountiful.

The following verse, however, strikes me as a much prettier instance of the figure in question:—

Ḥusn-i-mah-rá bá tu sanjídam bi-mízán-i-qiyás:
Palla-i-mah bar falak shud, u tu mándí bar zamín.

“I weighed the beauty of the moon with thine in the balance of
judgment:
The pan containing the moon flew up to heaven, whilst thou
wert left on the earth.”

George Puttenham's definition and examples of ætiology (“reason-rend” or “tell-cause,” as he names it in English, pp. 236-237 of Arber's reprint) hardly agree with the Persian figure, since he has in mind real, not imaginary, causes.

The next figure, ṭard u 'aks, or “thrust and inversion,”

Ṭard u 'aks. simply consists in the transposition in the second miṣrá' of the two halves of the first, thus:—

94. Chi shikár-ast nazd-i-ú, chi maṣáf: chi maṣaf-ast písh-i-ú, chi
shikár.

“Alike to him are chase and battle: battle and chase are alike to
him.”

The two next couplets illustrate the mukarrar or “re­peated” figure, which resembles those called Anadiplosis (“the Mukarrar. redouble”), Epanalepsis (“echo-sound,” or “slow return”), and Epizeuxis (“underlay” or “cuckoo-spell”) by Puttenham (pp. 210-212), especially the latter, exemplified in the three following verses:—

“It was Maryne, Maryne that wrought mine woe.”

Again:

“The chiefest staff of mine assured stay,
With no small grief is gone, is gone away.”

And again, in a verse of Sir Walter Raleigh's:—

“With wisdom's eyes had but blind fortune seene,
Then had my love, my love for ever beene.”

95. Badra badra dihad bi-sá'il zar: Dijla Dijla kashad bi-bazm
'uqár.
96. Gashta z'an badra badra badra khajil: burda z'án Dijla Dijla
Dijla yasár.

“He gives gold to the beggar, purse-on-purse: he brings wine to
the feast, Tigris-on-Tigris.
From that purse-on-purse the purse is ashamed: from that
Tigris-on-Tigris the Tigris derives wealth.”

The four concluding verses of the poem illustrate the two Ḥusn-i-ṭalab. Ḥusn-i-maqṭa'. figures ḥusn-i-ṭalab, or “apposite request,” and ḥusn-i-maqṭa', or “apposite conclusion”:—