He was of the Sayyids of Astarābād. He came to Hindūstān and died in A.H. 979 (A.D. 1571-72). He is remembered by many verses which he has left, a few of which are the following:—

“She showed her face from behind the curtain. Ah, this is
indeed the dawn!
This is the perfection of God's omnipotence in his handi-
work.
Not even on one night has the star of my desire risen in
thy face;
This is indeed my ill fate and my evil fortune.
See that thou hanker not after delight of the heart, and
ease
In the dust-bin of this world, for this is the house of toil.

Yesterday Murādī passed away to the dust and his love
said,
‘This is one who has been killed in the path of love by the
stone of cruelty.
O flood of grief, wash not from my eyes the dust of his
road,
For it is to me a memorial of one who, (while he lived),
was as the dust under my feet.’”

“It was the blackness* of her locks which was all the foun-
dation of my faith,
I am no true Musalmān if I turn my face away from her.
³²⁸ Though the dog of thy street is more highly regarded
than I,
Yet I am not a whit behind him in the path of fidelity.”

“The lovely ones, who have made their ringlets ornaments
around their faces,
Have taken the people in these snares.”

“Absent from that rosy-faced one, my heart is contracted
like a rosebud,
A madman am I, smitten with love's madness, fighting with
shadows.”

“When fate drew that line of dusky down on my love's face,
It drew beside it the line of my dependence on her.”