ONE of the remarkable events which occurred in Persia, on the same day, was the violent death of Shâh Tahmâsb Safavi in the town of Sabzavâr. As Nâdir Shâh had come to India, leaving his eldest son Rizâ Colî Mîrzâ for his lieutenant in Irân; and as on the very day that the public of Shâh Jehân Abâd had falsely raised the report of Nâdir Shâh's death, and made it the foundation of the subsequent tumult, the news was spread to their most distant provinces and travelled also into Persia; and as the falsity of the intelligence was not yet discovered, Rizâ Colî Mîrzâ, who resided at the holy Meshed, fell to think of his personal interests; and looking on the life of that youthful king as repugnant to the arrangement of his affairs, though he had not once during the whole of that time set up any claim to sovereign power, and was attentively watched by his guards, he gave the signal for his death; and the officers having smote him to the ground, carried him to the holy Meshed and there interred him. His sons Abbâs Mîrzâ and Soleimân Mîrzâ, who were both tender infants, bade adieu also to this transitory world, and no children of him remained.

Arabic Poetry.*

We count the Moshrif sword and the tall spears;

Yet fate kills us without a fight or struggle.

We are bound in the ties of the most ancient kindred;

Yet they do not secure us from the nightly villain.

Abo 'ddorr Jemalo 'ddîn Yâcôt, the Penman, has said, and his expression is most beautiful and ingenious;

Arabic Lines.*

My fraternal friends I regarded as coats of mail;

And they were so, but for my enemies.

I thought them well aimed, sure striking arrows;

And they were so, but against my heart.

They say, our hearts are purified and drained;

And they speak the truth; they are drained of my affec­tion.

One of the most singular incidents is this, that in circumstances where I had absolutely no thought or imagination collected or bent on these revolutions and events, suddenly it was whispered, as it were, to the ear of my soul, that the dura­tion of the reign of the Safavean Soltâns is noted in the word Safavîyôn; and when I looked at it, I saw that it coincided; for although the exit of the prince, equal in state to Solomon, Shah Ismaïl from the court of sovereignty, Lâhijân, was in the year nine hundred and four, his session on the throne of royalty in the seat of government Tabrîz was in nine hundred and seven; then the deposition of Abbâs Mîrzâ from the name of Sovereign, and the usurpation of Nâdir Shâh, as has been described, took place in one thousand one hundred and forty-eight; consequently the dura­tion of the dynasty of this exalted race must be two hundred and forty-two years complete, which agrees with the numbers in Safavîyôn.*

And now that a slight sketch of these events has accidentally fallen from my pen, which has no inclination any further to pursue the descrip­tion of the residuary circumstances, it will abridge in a few words the conclusion of my own history. “God grant me a termination in paradise, and make my state in the last life better than in the first.”*

From the period of my arrival in Shâh Jehân Abâd until the date of this, which is the latter end of the year one thousand one hundred and fifty-four (A. D. 1742.) three years and odd are past, that my time has been spent in this town, and that I have been continually in the thought of moving and making my escape from this country, where I am fallen so utter a stranger: but from a multiplicity of insurmountable obstacles it has proved impossible. With the firm foot of patience and toleration I have measured three and fifty stations of the uneven road of life. My elemental frame, crushed by the assemblage of grief and dis­eases, and the powers of my soul, flagged and fallen away to indolence and neglect, have sunk the head within the breast-fold of lowliness. Now, weak and helpless, I sit listening for the note of departure.* “If thou punishest me, I am one of thy servants; and if thou grantest me pardon, it is that thou art the indulgent, the merciful.”*

In my nature and disposition there was no prin­ciple of association with a strange country of men familiar with corruption and depravity; and as in coming I was not master of my own choice, nor yet am in going, I have done so much with the deepest blood of my heart;

Lines.*

Arise, HAZIN, from this lower world, arise!

From this mouldering dung-hill, arise, like Christ, arise!

Thou art solitary in the midst of this strange assembly;

Arise from among them, thus alone arise!

“We pray to God for pardon, and that he change our sorrow into joy, for he is beneficent, he is generous.” *