They relate thus, that Naṣr b. Aḥmad, who was the central point of the Sámánid group, whose fortunes reached their zenith during the days of his rule, was most plenteously equipped with every means of enjoyment and material of splendour—well-filled treasuries, an efficient army, and loyal servants. In winter he used to reside at Bukhárá, his capital, while in summer he used to go to Samarqand or some other of the cities of Khurásán. Now one year it was the turn of Herát. He spent the spring at Bádghís, where are the most charming pasture-grounds of Khurásán and 'Iráq, for there are nearly a thousand watercourses abounding in water and pasture, any one of which would suffice for an army.

When the beasts had well eaten, and had regained their strength and condition, and were fit for warfare or to take the field, Naṣr b. Aḥmad turned his face towards Herát, but halted outside the city of Marghazár-i-Sapíd and there pitched his camp. Cool breezes from the north were stirring, and the fruit was ripening in the districts of Málin and Karúkh*

—fruit which can be obtained in but few places, and nowhere so cheaply. There the army rested. The climate was charming, the breeze cool, food plentiful, fruit abundant, and the air filled with fragrant scents, so that the soldiers enjoyed their life to the full during the spring and summer.

When Mihrgán*

arrived, and the juice of the grape came into season, and the eglantine, basil, and yellow rocket were in bloom, they did full justice to the charms of autumn, and took their fill of the pleasures of that season. Mihrgán was protracted, for the cold did not wax severe, and the grapes proved to be of exceptional sweetness. For in the district of Herát one hundred and twenty different varieties of the grape occur, each sweeter and more delicious than the other; and amongst them are in particular two kinds which are not to be found in any other region of the inhabited world, one called Tarniyán*

and the other Gulchídí,*

tight-skinned, slender-cored, and luscious, so that you would surely say they were [flavoured with] cinnamon.*

A cluster of Gulchídí grapes sometimes attains a weight of five maunds; they are black as pitch and sweet as sugar, nor can one eat many for the sweetness that is in them. And besides these there were all sorts of other delicious fruits.

So the Amír Naṣr b. Aḥmad saw Mihrgán and its fruits, and was mightily pleased therewith. Then the narcissus began to bloom, and the raisins were plucked and stoned in Málin, and hung up on lines, and packed in chests; and the Amír with his army moved into the two groups of hamlets called Ghúra and Darwáz. There he saw mansions of which each one was like highest paradise, having before it a garden or pleasure-ground with a northern aspect. There they wintered, while the Mandarin oranges began to arrive from Sístán and the sweet oranges from Mázan-darán; and so they passed the winter in the most agreeable manner.

When [the second] spring came, the Amír sent the horses to Bádghís and moved his camp to Málin [to a spot] between two streams. And when summer came, the fruits again ripened; and when Mihrgán came, he said, “Let us enjoy Mihrgán at Herát”; and so from season to season he continued to procrastinate, until four years had passed in this way. For it was then the heyday of the Sámánian prosperity, and the land was flourishing, the kingdom unmenaced by foes, the army loyal, fortune favourable, and heaven auspicious; yet withal the Amir's attendants grew weary, and desire for home arose within them, while they beheld the King quiescent, the air of Herát in his head and the love of Herát in his heart; and in the course of conversation he would declare that he preferred Herát to the Garden of Eden, and would set its charms above those of the springtide of Beauty.*

So they perceived that he intended to remain there for that summer also. Then the captains of the army and courtiers of the King went to Abú 'Abdu'lláh Rúdagí,*

than whom there was none more honoured of the King's intimates, and none whose words found so ready an acceptance. And they said to him: “We will present thee with five thousand dínárs if thou wilt contrive some artifice whereby the King may be induced to depart hence, for our hearts are dying for desire of our wives and children, and our souls are like to leave us for longing after Bukhárá.” Rúdagí agreed; and since he had felt the Amír's pulse and understood his temper, he perceived that prose would not affect him, and so had recourse to verse. He therefore composed a qaṣída; and, when the Amír had taken his morning cup, came in and did obeisance, and sat down in his place; and, when the musicians ceased, he took up the harp, and, playing the “Lover's air,” began this elegy:—*

“The Jú-yi-Múliyán we call to mind,
We long for those dear friends long left behind.”

Then he strikes a lower key, and sings:—

“The sands of Oxus, toilsome though they be,
Beneath my feet were soft as silk to me.
Glad at the friend's return, the Oxus deep
Up to our girths in laughing waves shall leap.
Long live Bukhárá! Be thou of good cheer!
Joyous towards thee hasteth our Amír!
The Moon's the Prince, Bukhárá is the sky;
O Sky, the Moon shall light thee by and bye!
Bukhárá is the mead, the Cypress he;
Receive at last, O Mead, thy Cypress-tree!”

When Rúdagí reached this verse, the Amír was so much affected that he descended from his throne, bestrode the horse which was on sentry-duty,*

and set off for Bukhárá so precipitately that they carried his riding-boots after him for two parasangs, as far as Burúna,*

and only then did he put them on; nor did he draw rein anywhere till he reached Bukhárá, and Rúdagí received from the army the double of that five thousand dínárs.

At Samarqand, in the year A.H. 504 (= A.D. 1110-1111), I heard from the Dihqán Abú Rijá Aḥmad b. 'Abdu'ṣ-Ṣamad al-'Ábidí as follows:—“My grandfather, the Dihqán Abú Rijá, related that [on this occasion] when Rúdagí reached Samarqand, he had four hundred camels laden with his wealth.” And, indeed, that illustrious man was worthy of this splendid equipment, for no one has yet produced a successful imitation of that elegy, nor found means to surmount triumphantly the difficulties [which the subject presents]. Thus the Poet-laureate Mu'izzí was one of the sweetest singers and most graceful wits in Persia, and his poetry reaches the highest level in freshness and sweetness, and excels in fluency and charm. Zaynu'l-Mulk Abú Sa'd [b.] Hindú b. Muḥammad b. Hindú of Isfahán*

requested him to compose an imitation of this qaṣída, and Mu'izzí, unable to plead his inability so to do, wrote:—

“Now advanceth Rustam from Mázandarán,
Now advanceth Zayn-i-Mulk from Isfahán.”

All wise men will perceive how great is the difference between this poetry and that; for who can sing with such sweetness as does Rúdagí when he says:—

“Surely are renown and praise a lasting gain,
Even though the royal coffers loss sustain!”

For in this couplet are seven admirable touches of art: first, the verse is apposite; secondly, antithetical; thirdly, it has a refrain; fourthly, it embodies an enunciation of equivalence; fifthly, it has sweetness; sixthly, style; seventhly, energy. Every master of the craft, who has deeply considered the poetic art, will admit, after a little reflection, that I am right.