He is Maulānā ‘Alī Aḥmad, the son of Maulānā Ḥusain Naqshī of Dihlī, the seal-cutter, who was a learned man, saintly in reli­gion, and was the instructor of the eldest prince.* Both father and son attained the greatest proficiency in this art (of seal-cutting), but especially the Maulānā named above (‘Alī Aḥmad) whose own engraved seal is the exemplar of the age. Coins of which the dies have been cut by him are taken as talismans and relics to ‘Irāq, Khurāsān and Transoxiana. He is endowed with the accomplishments of learning and with such perfections as a man can possess, but this lesser accomplishment and mercenary art (of seal-cutting) has obscured all his great natural gifts, and for this reason he has not received that training and that position ³⁵⁰ in military affairs and in the service of the state to which he is entitled. Had he attained the honourable rank which was his due he would have been in no way inferior to any of the more famous Amīrs.* He is deeply read in astronomy and natural philosophy, is an ardent seeker after knowledge, and is marvellously pro­ficient in all scripts, and in prose composition and orthography he is unrivalled.

Had he been a man of one pursuit many examples of his flow­ing verse would have been left on the page of time. He some­times exercises his brilliant intellect and keen perception in the composition of verse, and has chosen a poetical name in consonance with his occupation. Since from the early days of my youth to the time of writing this selection, which is the period of my middle age,* or rather of my old age, I have been bound to him, to a greater degree than can be imagined, by the bonds of intimacy, confidence, friendship, and companionship, it is not unfitting that I should quote with appreciation, and at some length,* some of his profitable pieces of verse and prose. The following couplets are from his poems:—

“Until the down grew above thy life-giving lip
Masīḥ alone was there. Now that it has grown Khiẓr is in
company with Masīḥ.”*

“The censor yesterday broke the wine-jar, and poured forth
the fiery water which it contained.
He gave my dust to the wind, and poured my blood on the
dust.”

“The wind brought news to my sad heart of my beloved.
Alas, no trust can be placed in the word of the wind.”

“Sleep comes on me each night like a robber, my eyes become
moist.

But, when sleep sees that my heart still wakes in its grief
for me, sleep quickly flees.”

In imitation of this couplet I composed the following:—

“Fired by a hundred hopes I send a messenger to that cruel
one,
I flee to God for refuge from the hour in which he will
return from her without hope.”

351 (The following couplet is Nishānī's):—

“Since my bosom was wounded by the arrow of thy cruelty
I have not treated it with ointment, nor have I dressed the
wound.”

At the time when Gujarāt was conquered he engraved a coin-die for the emperor, and submitted it to him with the following chronogram:—

“O king! The coinage of Gujarāt is now struck in thy
name,
May the shadow of thy justice be over the head* of that
country.
Happy will be that moment when thou wilt ask of me the
date (of its conquest)
And I shall reply, ‘May the coinage of Gujarāt be auspi-
cious!’”*

The following couplets are also by him:—

“It is a matter of life and death with me, and the beloved
has not come.
My life, which is valuable to me, has become of no account.”

“I have a wounded heart and the lovely ones bear salt (wit)
on their lips;
This wound of mine will not be healed till eternity.”

“Outward form and inward truth are not united in every king,
Akbar the emperor is the king both of outward form and
inward truth.
He is the emperor at whose court, when he holds it,
King after king falls down in fear before the doorkeeper's
staff.”

“The heart in my bosom is not broken by the stone of calami-
ties
For the glass of my (heart) is made of a diamond.”

When the imperial camp was on its way to Kashmīr for the first time* and I, having taken leave, went to Basāwar,* my birth- ³⁵² place, Nishānī wrote the following verses, and sent them to me from that country (Kashmīr). God knows whether he wrote (the same verses) with the same warmth of feeling to several others, and pleased them also, but until another claimant appears I have made the verses my own.

A Manavī.

“Whilst thou art far from me, O moon that illuminest my
heart,
I sleep not at night and have no ease during the day,
My tears, rose-red with blood, trickle adown my cheek
Like tulips blooming in a field of saffron;
My eyelashes are tinged with the blood of my heart
Like branches of red coral showing their heads above the
ocean.

Owing to thy absence the blood lodged in my heart, every
moment.
Rises to my neck like liquid in a bottle;
Every breath burns with the fire of grief
And at each respiration throws forth from my bosom a
flaming banner.
Now my eyes contend with the blood of my heart
And shed, instead of tears, sparks of fire.
These are not eyelashes that encircle my eyes,
They are the soot of my heart's fire around its chimney.
O thou of angelic disposition, from this sad journey
Which has carried the lives of my dear friends away on the
breeze
Such languor has become the lot of my body and my heart
That I pay no heed to my body or my heart.
My body is disturbed by the pains of fever,
³⁵³ My heart within it is like fire in a furnace.”

In reply to that boastful poem* of Shaikh Faiẓī's, which begins:—

“Thanks be to God that the love of beautiful ones is my
guide.
I am of the religion of Brahmans and of the faith of the
fire-worshippers.”

He wrote a qaṣīdah, from which the following couplets are excerpted:—

“Thanks be to God that I am a follower of the faith of the
prophet,
The love of the prophet and of the race of the prophet is
my guide.
I am disgusted with Brahmans, prayer-gongs, and Ahri-
man,*
I am a denier of the faith of monk, priest, and fire-angel,*

I believe in the day of resurrection, and in the resurrection
of the dead,
I am hopeful of Paradise, of ḥūrīs, and of Kauar.*
O envious one, glance not towards me with contempt
Although in outward semblance I may appear contempt-
ible.
I am a fierce flame, pass not near me.*
Since thou art not the Friend* set not thy foot on my fire.
Under my seal is the face of the whole earth.
I in this age am like the seal, with my head hidden within
the collar of my robe.*
From east to west I am tempered with perfection,
From pole to pole I am the axis of every country.
The convex surface of the sky of excellence, even in the
eyes of my enemy,*
Will never fit the concave surface which is bounded by my
ego.
Though I dwell on the earth like an imaginary point
I am still the centre round which the spherical sky
revolves.
The hand of fate has drawn, with the compass of time,
The circles of the seven heavens around my book. ³⁵⁴
Although I am less than the fixed point which is the
centre
I am nevertheless more boundless than the circumference.
If my enemy performs a thousand of the magical tricks of
Sāmirī*