Though the heady wine of success should all men drug
and deceive,

Pass thou by and leave them, as the sober the drunkards
leave.
For the sake of the gaudy plumage which the flying pea-
cocks wear,
See how their death is compassed by many a springe and
snare!

Thy body to thee is a fetter, and the world a prison-cell:
To reckon as home this prison and chains do you deem
it well?
Thy soul is weak in wisdom, and naked of works beside:
Seek for the strength of wisdom: thy nakedness strive to
hide.

Thy words are the seed; thy soul is the farmer, the world
thy field:
Let the farmer look to the sowing, that the soil may abun-
dance yield.

Yet dost thou not endeavour, now that the Spring is here,
To garner a little loaflet for the Winter which creepeth
near.
The only use and profit which life for me doth hold
Is to weave a metrical chaplet of coral and pearls and
gold!”

^80. “Though the courts of earthly rulers have shut their doors
in my face,
Shall I grieve, while I still have access to the Court of the
Lord of Grace?
In truth I desire no longer to deal with the mighty and
proud,
Beneath whose burden of favour my back would be bent
and bowed.

To con the Holy Scriptures, to renounce, to strive, to
know—
These are the four companions who ever beside me go.
The Eye, the Heart, and the Ear through the long night-
watches speak,

And with their counsels strengthen my body so frail and
weak.
‘Guard me well, I pray thee, and prison me close,’ saith
the Eye,
‘From gazing on things forbidden, and the lust that comes
thereby.’
‘Close the road against me, and close it well,’ saith the
Ear,
‘To every lying slander, to gossip and spiteful sneer.’
What saith the Heart within me? ‘From Passion's curse
and ban
Keep me pure and unsullied, as befits an upright man.’
Then crieth the Voice of Reason, ‘To me was the watch
and ward
Over the Soul and Body given by God the Lord.
Hold thou nor speech nor commerce with the armies of
Hate and Lust,
For I am there to confront them, and to fight them, if
fight they must.’
Against the commands of Reason can I rebel and revolt,
When I am preferred through Reason alone to the sense-
less dolt?
^90. For the Fiend had caught and constrained me to walk in
his captives' train,
And 'twas Reason who came and saved me, and gave me
freedom again.
Twas Reason who seized my halter and forced me out of
the road
Whereby the Fiend would have led me at last to his own
abode.
Though this Cave of the World is truly a tenement dark
and dire,
If my ‘Friend of the Cave’ * be Reason, what more can
my heart desire?
Deem not the World, O son, a thing to hate and to
flee,
For a hundred thousand blessings it hath yielded even to
me.

Therein is my walk and achievement, my tongue and my
gift of speech;
It yields me a ground of action, and offers me scope for each.
And ever it cries in warning, ‘I am hastening fast away,
So clasp me close to your bosom, and cherish me whilst
you may!’

Reason was ever my leader, leading me on by the hand,
Till it made me famed for Wisdom through the length and
breadth of the land.
Reason it was which gave me the Crown of Faith, I say,
And Faith hath given me virtue, and strength to endure
and obey.

Since Faith at the Last Great Judgement can make my
reckoning light,
Shall I fear, if Faith require it, to lose my life outright?
So the World is now my quarry, and the hunter who hunts
am I,
Though I was once the quarry, in the days that are now
gone by.
^100. Though others it hunt and capture, I stand from its dangers
clear:
My Soul is higher than Fortune: then why should I Fortune
fear?”

I should like, did space allow, to quote other extracts from Náṣir-i-Khusraw's Díwán, which reveals throughout a combination of originality, learning, sincerity, enthusiastic faith, fearlessness, contempt for time-servers and flatterers, and courage hardly to be found, so far as I know, in any other Persian poet. In particular I would like to call the attention of Persian students to a very remarkable poem (No. 102, pp. 146-7), which is, unfortunately, too full of technical terms connected with the Pilgrimage to be easily translated or rendered intelligible without a disproportionate amount of commentary. In this poem Náṣir-i-Khusraw describes how he goes out to meet the pilgrims returning from Mecca, and in particular to welcome a friend who had accompanied the Pilgrimage. After the interchange of greetings, he says to his friend: “Tell me, how didst thou honour that noble Sanctuary? When thou didst array thyself in the iḥrám, * what resolve didst thou make in that consecration (taḥrím)? Didst thou make wholly unlawful (ḥarám) to thyself wrong­doing, and whatever stands between thee and God the Gracious?” “No,” replies his friend. “Didst thou,” con­tinues Náṣir, “when thou didst cry Labbík! * with reverence and understanding, hear the echo of God's Voice, and didst thou answer as Moses answered?” “No,” replies his friend. “And when,” continues Náṣir, “thou didst stand on Mount 'Arafát, and wert permitted to advance, didst thou become a knower ('árif) of God and a denier of self, and did some breath of Divine Wisdom (ma'rifat) reach thee?” “No,” replies his friend. Point by point Náṣir questions him as to his comprehension of the symbolic meanings of the ritual acts he has performed, and finally, having received a negative reply to every question, concludes: “O Friend, then thou hast not [truly] performed the Pilgrimage, nor stood in the station of self-obliteration; thou hast gone, seen Mecca, and come back, having bought the fatigues of the desert for silver. Hereafter, shouldst thou desire to perform the Pilgrimage, do even as I have taught thee!” Here we see in its best light the application of the characteristic Isma'ĺí doctrine of ta'wíl, or allegorical interpretation.

In strong contrast to the essentially devout spirit which pervades the poems included in the lithographed edition and in Blasphemous verses ascribed to Náṣir-i­Khusraw. most manuscripts of the Díwán, are certain free­thinking and almost blasphemous verses ascribed to Náṣir-i-Khusraw, which are widely known in Persia even at the present day, and are contained in a few manuscripts of his poetical works. Of two of the most celebrated of these pieces I published translations at p. 480 of my Year amongst the Persians, and I reproduce them here. The first is given by Jámí in his Baháristán in the short notice consecrated to Náṣir-i-Khusraw. Its purport is as follows:—

“O God, although through fear I hardly dare
To hint it, all this trouble springs from Thee!
Hadst Thou no sand or gravel in Thy shoes
What made Thee suffer Satan willingly?
'Twere well if Thou hadst made the lips and teeth
Of Tartar beauties not so fair to see.
With cries of ‘On!’ Thou bid'st the hound pursue;
With cries of ‘On!’ Thou bid'st the quarry flee!”

The second is cynical rather than blasphemous:

“Dead drunk, not like a common sot, one day
Náṣir-i-Khusraw went to take the air.
Hard by a dung-heap he espied a grave
And straightway cried, ‘O ye who stand and stare,
Behold the world! Behold its luxuries!
Its dainties here—the fools who ate them there!’”