He was supposed to be the king of words. He lived the life of a darvīsh in the Dakan,* and his eyes were seldom free from tears. It is said that at the time of the massacre* of the foreign­ers by the Dakanīs he followed the direction of those foreigners who inhabit the land of non-existence. The following verses are extracted from his works:—

“The edge of the sword of testimony has brushed away the
dust of dissension,
Fire-worshipper, Christian, and Muslim are all killed by
one dagger.”

“The inmost parts of the cold-hearted are cut to pieces,
And salt is then sprinkled on the wounds in their hearts.”

“Thou, with thy sweet smile, art balm to wounded hearts,
But thy eyelashes are a sharp lancet to the liver.*
The wine of love is not suited to the capacity of intellect,*
Thou that pretendest to knowledge art no tiger of our
forest.”

“The cloud of the eye waters thy narcissus,*
The sight of thee arouses no suspicion of cruelty.”

“The sword of her cruelty drips with blood, I fear that ³³³
Malik
Will go in search of his reward to the house of the slayer.”

“The treasury of my imagination is so full of the treasure
of the thought of reunion with her that my eyes will not
close.”

“When the army of well-being* comes impudently against
thee, O Malik,

Saddle the horse of strife and hurl thyself against the
centre* of the army.”

“How long will one expect the fulfilment of promises from
every deceiver?
One has one's eye on the door and one's ear open for the
footfall of every comer.
Enemies gladly give this much ease to one's pain,
But woe be to him who expects fidelity from them.”

“What breeze has been dressing thy head
That thy hyacinthine locks are scattered over the rose of
thy cheek?
Eternity without beginning is sworn to thy moon-like face.
Eternity without end is attached to thy waving locks.
Sugar melts at the sight of thy smiling face,
Salt is attracted by thy sweet smile of love.
The temple bell is melody to the bead-tellers
In that land where the idol is lord.”

I saw the complete copy of Malik's works which Shaikh Faiẓī brought from the Dakan. All his poetry is after the fashion of that of the poets of this age and he has not departed from their set forms. No odour of love, of sympathy, or of any fresh subject ³³⁴ has touched his verse, and therefore I have confined myself to quoting these brief extracts. To what extent he understood the set terms used in poetry may he estimated from the following couplet, which is the opening couplet of his dīvān:—*

“O Thou whose praise is the ladder to all discourses,
The mention of whom is the pulpit of all assemblies!”

His rhymes are a delight to his enemies, not to mention the complete lack of dignity in his diction. In my humble opinion the following couplet is the best poetry he has written:—

“I stepped aside to take a thorn from my foot,
And her litter vanished from my sight.
For one moment I was negligent and it travelled a hundred
years' journey* from me.”