‘What lands,’ said I, ‘are left, were mine the might,
Were his.’ Said she, ‘What's left can ne'er be right.’ *
Said I, ‘Then doth his bounty cause no stint?’
Said she, ‘Of time, in cloth-mill and in mint.’ *
Said I, ‘What nobler is than all beside—’
‘—Hath God vouchsafed to him,’ my friend replied.
Said I, ‘This spacious realm where holds the King?’
Said she, ‘Beneath his stirrups and his ring.’ *
Said I, ‘From praising him I will not rest.’
Said she, ‘So do the brightest and the best.’
Said I, ‘What boon for him shall crave my tongue?’
Said she, ‘Long life, and Fortune ever young!’”

Of 'Asjadí (Abú Nadhar 'Abdu'l-'Azíz b. Manṣúr), whom we should next mention, we know even less than of 'Unṣurí,

'Asjadí. since even in Dawlatsháh's day “his díwán was unobtainable, though some of his verses were to be found recorded in anthologies.” Dawlatsháh describes him as one of 'Unṣurí's pupils and a native of Herát, while the earlier 'Awfí calls him a man of Merv. The following quatrain is ascribed to him by the former biographer:—

“I do repent of wine and talk of wine,
Of idols fair with chins like silver fine:
A lip-repentance and a lustful heart—
O God, forgive this penitence of mine!”

Of Farrukhí (Abu'l-Ḥasan 'Ali b. Júlúgh) of Sístán (Dawlatsháh says “of Tirmidh,” but this is certainly an Farrukhí. error), the third of the triad of poets with whom Firdawsí, according to the popular legend, was confronted on his arrival at the Court of Ghazna, we know somewhat more, thanks to a long anecdote (No. xv) in the Chahár Maqála (pp. 58-66 of my translation). His prose work on Prosody, the Tarjumánu'l-Balághat (“Interpreter of Eloquence”), of which Rashídu'd-Dín Waṭwáṭ, who describes its author as “being to the Persians what al-Mutanabbí was to the Arabs,” appears to have made use in the compilation of his Ḥadá'iqu's-Siḥr (“Gardens of Magic”), is, unfortunately, so far as we know, no longer extant; but of his Díwán, which Dawlatsháh describes as “enjoying a wide celebrity in Trans-oxiana, but lost or little known in Khurásán,” two manuscripts exist in the British Museum and one in the India Office, while a lithographed edition was published at Ṭihrán in A.H. 1301 and 1302 (A.D. 1883-85). According to the Chahár Maqála, his father, Júlúgh, was in the service of the Amír Khalaf, a descendant of the Ṣaffárids, who still preserved some fragment of his House's ancient power, while Farrukhí, on account of his skill in making verses and playing the harp (in which, like Rúdagí, he excelled), was retained in the service of a dihqán, or squire, who allowed him a yearly stipend of a hundred silver dirhams and two hundred measures of corn, each comprising five maunds. A marriage contracted with one of the ladies of Khalaf's Court made this allowance insufficient; and though at his request the dihqán consented to raise it to five hundred dirhams with three hundred maunds of corn, Farrukhí, deeming even this inadequate, and hearing glowing reports of the munificence of the Amír Abu'l-Mudhaffar of Chaghániyán (a place in Transoxiana, between Tirmidh and Qubádiyán), set off to try his fortune with this new patron, as he himself says:—

“In a caravan for Ḥilla bound from Sístán did I start
With fabrics spun within my brain and woven by my heart.”

On arriving at his destination, he found that the Amir Abu'l-Mudhaffar was absent in the country, superintending the branding of his colts and mares at the “branding-ground” (dágh-gáh), for he was a great lover of horse-flesh, and possessed, if we may credit the author of the Chahár Maqála, more than eighteen thousand beasts. In his absence the poet was received by his steward, the 'Amíd As'ad, who, being himself “a man of parts and a poet,” at once recognised the merit of the qaṣída which Farrukhí recited to him, but could hardly believe that the uncouth, ill-dressed Sístáni, who was “of the most unprepossessing appearance from head to foot,” and whose head was crowned “with a huge turban, after the manner of the Sagzís,” * could really be its author. So he said—

“The Amír is at the branding-ground, whither I go to wait upon him, and thither I will take thee also, for it is a mighty pleasant spot—

‘World within world of verdure wilt thou see’—

full of tents and star-like lamps, and from each tent come the songs of Rúdagí, * and friends sit together, drinking wine and making merry, while before the Amír's pavilion a great fire is kindled, in size like a mountain, whereat they brand the colts. And the Amír, goblet in one hand and lassoo in the other, drinks wine and gives away horses. Compose, now, a qaṣída describing this branding-ground, so that I may present thee to the Amír.”

So that night Farrukhí composed the following qaṣída, which is reckoned one of his most successful poems:—*

“Since the meadow hides its face in satin shot with greens and
blues,
And the mountains wrap their brows in silver veils of seven
hues,
Earth is teeming like the musk-pod with aromas rich and rare,
Foliage bright as parrot's plumage doth the graceful willow
wear.
Yestere'en the midnight breezes brought the tidings of the
spring:
Welcome, O ye northern gales, for this glad promise which ye
bring!
Up its sleeve the wind, meseemeth, pounded musk hath stored
away,
While the garden fills its lap with shining dolls, as though
for play.
On the branches of syringa necklaces of pearls we see,
Ruby ear-rings of Badakhshán sparkle on the Judas-tree.
Since the branches of the rose-bush carmine cups and beakers
bore
Human-like five-fingered hands reach downwards from the
sycamore.
Gardens all chameleon-coated, branches with chameleon whorls,
Pearly-lustrous pools around us, clouds above us raining
pearls!
On the gleaming plain this coat of many colours doth appear
Like a robe of honour granted in the Court of our Amír.
For our Prince's Camp of Branding stirreth in these joyful
days,
So that all this age of ours in joyful wonder stands a-gaze.
Green within the green you see, like stars within the firma-
ment;
Like a fort within a fortress spreads the army, tent on tent.
Every tent contains a lover resting in his sweetheart's arms,
Every patch of grass revealeth to a friend a favourite's charms.
Harps are sounding midst the verdure, minstrels sing their
lays divine,

Tents resound with clink of glasses as the pages pour the
wine.
Kisses, claspings from the lovers; coy reproaches from the
fair;
Wine-born slumbers for the sleepers, while the minstrels wake
the air.
Branding-fires, like suns ablaze, are kindled at the spacious
gate
Leading to the state-pavilion of our Prince so fortunate.
Leap the flames like gleaming lances draped with yellow-lined
brocade,
Hotter than a young man's passion, yellower than gold
assayed.
Branding-tools like coral branches ruby-tinted glow amain
In the fire, as in the ripe pomegranate glows the crimson
grain.
Rank on rank of active boys, whose watchful eyes no slumber
know;
Steeds which still await the branding, rank on rank and row
on row.
On his horse, the river-forder, roams our genial Prince afar,
Ready to his hand the lassoo, like a young Isfandiyár.
Like the locks of pretty children see it how it curls and
bends,
Yet be sure its hold is stronger than the covenant of friends.
Bu'l-Mudhaffar Shah, the Upright, circled by a noble band,
King and conqueror of cities, brave defender of the land.
Serpent-coiled in skilful hands his whirling noose fresh forms
doth take,
Like unto the rod of Moses metamorphosed to a snake.
Whosoever hath been captured by that noose and circling line,
On the face and flank and shoulder ever bears the Royal sign.
But, though on one side he brandeth, gives he also rich
rewards,
Leads his poets with a bridle, binds his guests as though with
cords.”