“Another cognate difficulty is this, that many of the quatrains ascribed to 'Umar are also attributed to other poets. I have marked a few of these in the notes, and, doubtless, careful search would bring many more to light. It might be supposed that the character of the language employed would be sufficient to differentiate the work of 'Umar at any rate from that of poets writing two or three centuries after his time, but, as observed by Chodzko, the literary Persian of 800 years ago differs singularly little from that now in use. Again, if, as has been supposed, there were anything ex­ceptional in 'Umar's poetry, it might be possible to identify it by internal evidence; but the fact is that all Persian poetry runs very much in grooves, and 'Umar's is no exception. The poetry of rebellion and revolt from orthodox opinions, which is supposed to be peculiar to him, may be traced in the works of his predecessor Avicenna, as well as in those of Afḍal-i-Káshí, and others of his successors. For these reasons I have not excluded any quatrains on account of their being ascribed to other writers as well as 'Umar. So long as I find fair MS. authority for such quatrains, I include them in the text, not because I am sure 'Umar wrote them, but because it is just as likely they were written by him as by the other claimants.”

Of the two longer poems included in Dr. Ethé's above­mentioned article, one is in praise of wine, while the other contains sundry moral precepts and reflections. Neither of them appears to me either of sufficiently high merit or of sufficiently certain authenticity to be worth translating here, and I must therefore refer the curious reader to Dr. Ethé's interesting article in the Göttinger Nachrichten.

Much more remarkable and beautiful is Avi-cenna's celebrated Arabic qaṣída on the Human Soul, * of which the following translation may serve to convey some idea:—

“It descended upon thee from out of the regions above,
That exalted, ineffable, glorious, heavenly Dove.
'Twas concealed from the eyes of all those who its nature
would ken,
Yet it wears not a veil, and is ever apparent to men. *
Unwilling it sought thee and joined thee, and yet, though it
grieve,
It is like to be still more unwilling thy body to leave.

It resisted and struggled, and would not be taméd in haste,
Yet it joined thee, and slowly grew used to this desolate waste,
Till, forgotten at length, as I ween, were its haunts and its
troth
In the heavenly gardens and groves, which to leave it was
loath.
Until, when it entered the D of its downward Descent,
And to earth, to the C of its centre, unwillingly went, *
The eye (I) of Infirmity * smote it, and lo, it was hurled
Midst the sign-posts and ruined abodes of this desolate world.
It weeps, when it thinks of its home and the peace it possessed,
With tears welling forth from its eyes without pausing or rest,
And with plaintive mourning it broodeth like one bereft
O'er such trace of its home as the fourfold winds have left.
Thick nets detain it, and strong is the cage whereby
It is held from seeking the lofty and spacious sky.
Until, when the hour of its homeward flight draws near,
And 'tis time for it to return to its ampler sphere,
It carols with joy, for the veil is raised, and it spies
Such things as cannot be witnessed by waking eyes.
On a lofty height doth it warble its songs of praise
(For even the lowliest being doth knowledge raise).
And so it returneth, aware of all hidden things
In the universe, while no stain to its garment clings.

“Now why from its perch on high was it cast like this
To the lowest Nadir's gloomy and drear abyss?
Was it God who cast it forth for some purpose wise,
Concealed from the keenest seeker's inquiring eyes?
Then is its descent a discipline wise but stern,
That the things that it hath not heard it thus may learn.
So 'tis she whom Fate doth plunder, until her star
Setteth at length in a place from its rising far,
Like a gleam of lightning which over the meadows shone,
And, as though it ne'er had been, in a moment is gone.”

Of other distinguished writers of Arabic produced by Persia, mention should be made of the celebrated inventor of that Badí'u'z­Zamán al­Hamadhání. style of composition known as the Maqáma, the ingenious Abu'l-Faḍl Aḥmad b. al-Ḥusayn of Hamadán, better known as Badí'u'z-Zamán, “the Wonder of the Age,” who, as ath-Tha'álibí tells us (Yatíma, vol. iv, pp. 168-169), died in A.H. 398 (A.D. 1008) at the comparatively early age of forty. Of his native town he had but a mean opinion, for he says in an often-quoted verse:—*

“Hamadán is my country; its virtues I'm fain to allow,
Yet most hateful of all our cities I find it, I trow:
Its children are ugly as aged men, and all must admit
That its aged men are like children in lack of wit.”

In the same sense he quotes in one of his letters (Yatìma, vol. iv, p. 179) another similar verse, which runs:—

“Blame me not for my weak understanding, for I am a man
Who was born, as you very well know, in the town Hamadán!”

We find, consequently, that he quitted his little-loved native town in A.D. 990, being then about twenty-two years of age, and first visited that great patron of letters, the Ṣáḥib Isma'íl b. 'Abbád, who, as we have seen, * tested his skill in extempore translation by giving him a Persian verse to render into metrical Arabic. Thence he went to Gurgán, where, if ath-Tha'álibí is to be credited, he frequented the society of the Isma'íli heretics, who even at this time, nearly a century before the notorious Ḥasan-i-Ṣabbáḥ made it the centre of his “New Propaganda,” appear to have been numerous in this region. In A.H. 382 (A.D. 992-93) he reached Níshápúr, and there com­posed his “Séances” (Maqámát), which, as stated by ath-Tha'álibí (loc. cit.), originally amounted to four hundred. After visiting every town of importance in Khurásán, Sístán, and the regions about Ghazna, he finally settled in Herát, and there died. His memory was prodigious, so that he could repeat by heart a qaṣída of fifty verses, after hearing it recited only once, without a single mistake; or four or five pages of a prose work which he had subjected to one hasty perusal. The respective merits of him and his imitator al-Ḥarírí in that style of composition which they so especially made their own is a subject which has been repeatedly discussed, and which need not be con­sidered in this place. * Attention may, however, be called to an Arabic qaṣída, which he composed in glorification of Sulṭán Maḥmúd, which al-'Utbí cites in his Kitábu'l-Yamíní (Cairo ed. of A.H. 1286, vol. i, pp. 384-386).

“Is this,” the poet asks himself (meaning the Sulṭán), “Afrídhún with the crown, or a second Alexander? Or hath a re-incarnation brought back unto us Solomon? The sun of Maḥmúd hath cast a shadow over the stars of Sámán, and the House of Bahrám * have become slaves to the son of the Kháqán. * When he rides the elephant to battle or review, thine eyes behold a Sulṭán on the shoulders of a devil; [a Sulṭán whose sway extends] from the midst of India to the coasts of Furján, and from the limits of Sind to the remotest parts of Khurásán.”