“A tract of my own compilation which I sent
To thy Court, to disprove the predicted storm.”

The other passage in which allusion is made to this “storm” contains, if I am not mistaken, a definite reference to Anwarí. It runs:—

An kas ki ḥukm kard bi-ṭúfán-i-bád guft
'Ásíb-i-án ‘imárat-i-gítí kunad kharáb:’
Tashríf yáft az tu, wa iqbál díd u jáh:
Dar band-i-án na-shud ki khaṭá guft yá ṣawáb.
Man banda chún bi-nukta'í ibṭál karda-am
Bá man chirá zi wajh-i-digar mí-rawad khiṭáb?

“That person who predicted the storm of wind said,
‘The hurt thereof will destroy the prosperity of the world.’
He obtained from thee a robe of honour, and gained fortune
and rank:
He cared nothing whether he spoke truly or falsely.
Since I, your servant, have falsified [his prediction] with one
criticism,
Why am I addressed in a fashion so entirely different?”

Dhahír, then, was probably acquainted with Anwarí, or at least with his verse, and I am much mistaken if Dhahír's poem beginning:—

Ay Falak sar badán dar áwurda
Ki tu gú'í ki khák-i-páy-i-man-ast

be not a ‘response’ to, or parody of, Anwarí's—

Kulba'í k'andarán bí-rúz u bi-shab
Jáy-i-árám u khurd u khwáb-i-man-ast.

Apart from these indications, I can find no clear refer­ence to any contemporary poet, unless the following be to Nidhámí, whose romance of Khusraw and Shírín (or Farhád and Shírín), was, as we have seen, completed in A.H. 571 (=A.D. 1175-76):—

Wa lík bíkh-am azín dar 'Iráq thábit níst:
Khushá fasána-i-Shírín u qiṣṣa-i-Farhád!

“But on this account I am not firmly rooted in 'Iráq:
Lucky the story of Shírín and the tale of Farhád!”

And indeed it is likely enough that Dhahír was jealous of his two great contemporaries; for his poems display all the egotism, greed of gain, readiness to take offence and shameless opportunism which, with occasional outbursts of contempt for their own time-serving profession, are so characteristic of these panegyrists. His views in this respect singularly resemble those of Anwarí. To one much earlier poet, namely, Pindár of Ray, who flourished in the eleventh century of our era, there is the following clear reference, which Dawlatsháh (p. 43, l. 4) both mutilates and misquotes:—

Shi'r-i-Pindár, ki guftí bi-ḥaqíqat waḥy-ast,
Án ḥaqíqat chu bi-bíní buwad az pindárí.
Dar nihán-khána-i-ṭab'am bi-tamáshá bingar,
Tá zi har záwiya'í 'arḍa diham dildárí!

“The verse of Pindár, which thou didst declare to be ‘in truth
inspired,’
That ‘truth,’ when thou lookest into it, arises from an illusion.
Glance for delectation through the secret gallery of my genius,
That out of its every corner I may reveal some new charmer!” * Here again, though there is no question of rivalry, we observe the same note of disparagement towards the work of others.

Like most Court-poets in Persia, Dhahír was evidently addicted to wine, and, though apparently professing the Sunní doctrine, was probably entirely careless of religion. Thus in one of his quatrains he says that “it is better to be drunk in Hell than sober in Paradise,” while in another (alluding to Alexander's journey, under the guidance of the mysterious immortal Saint Khiḍr, into the Land of Darkness in quest of the Water of Life) he declares himself “the slave of that Khiḍr who brought thee forth from the Darkness of the Grape.” That he professed himself a Sunní appears clearly from the manner in which he speaks of the Caliphs 'Umar and 'Uthmán. Of the first he says:—

“How long wilt thou speak of the lily and its ‘freedom’? *
Art thou then without knowledge of the service of the world's
King,
Nuṣratu'd-Dín 'Bú Bakr, the wise and just ruler
Who hath adorned the whole world with the justice of 'Umar?”

Of both he says, in another place:—

“The most great and kingly Atábek, whose justice
Is the restorer of God's Religion and the Prophet's Law,
'Bú Bakr by name, and like 'Uthmán in modesty and clemency,
Who, by virtue of his knowledge and justice, equals Fárúq (i.e.,
'Umar) and Ḥaydar (i.e. 'Alí).”

To no class, however, does the Arabic proverb an-Násu 'alá díni Mulúkihim (“Men follow the creed of their kings”) apply more strongly than to Court-poets, and it would be a mistake to attach any great significance to these utterances, which at most show that Dhahír was not a convinced adherent of the Shí'a sect.

Our poet, as we have said, was an importunate beggar, and yet had sense enough to see how bad a use he was making of his talents. The following verses are typical samples of a large portion of his poetry. The first is from a long qaṣída addressed to the Ṣadr of Khujand.

“A whole world dances on the waves through thy bounty,
While my bark is thus heavily anchored.
Ask me not of the state in which I am to-day,
For should I tell it thou wouldst not believe.
Trouble lies in ambush round about me,
Poverty unmasks its hosts before me…
Dost thou not desire that, for a little effort [on thy part],
I may spread thy praises through the world?
In [seeking] means of livelihood there cannot be
Love for Abú Bakr or friendship for 'Umar. *
There is no jeweller in 'Iráq, so it is natural
That they should not recognise the value of a jewel.
Oh, my heart is pure like a purse of silver,
While my face is sallow like a bag of gold.
I have no fortune beyond this, that I have become
The chief amongst the poets.”

In another qaṣída addressed to Bahá'u'd-Dín Abú Bakr Sayyidu'r-Ru'asá he says:—

“I have not yet given tongue in thy praise,
Though thy generosity demands an apology from [even] a
hundred qaṣídas. *
My mind has conceived a distaste for poetry,
For it impairs the status of a scholar.
My object is to praise you, else
Where is poetry and where is he! *
I, whose soul in the arcana of the [Divine] Power
Occupies the station of ‘[a bow-shot] or even less,’ *
How can I take pride in poetry, because
My name is on the roll of the poets?
Not that poetry is bad in itself;
My complaint is of the vileness of my colleagues!”*

Again he says in another poem:—

“My talent, indeed, yields me no means of livelihood,
Whether you suppose me at Hamadán or in Baghdád.
Such advantage as I have seen in the world from my scholar-
ship
Was from the harshness of my father and the blows of my
tutor.
My poetic talent is my least claim to distinction,
For at its hands I have suffered sundry injustices.
Before whomsoever I recite a line commemorating his praises,
He thenceforth, so far as he is able, remembers me not.
Of poetry the best kind is the ode (ghazal), and that, moreover,
Is not a stock-in-trade on which one can found expectations.
The edifice of my life is falling into ruin: how long

Shall I decorate the House of Passion with the colour and fra-
grance of the fair?
What doth it profit me what sweet-lipped loveling dwells in
Kashmír?
What doth it avail me what silver-bosomed darling inhabits
Nawshád? *
Content thee with this much, and say naught of the nature of
panegyric,
For I cannot describe the heart-burnings to which it gives rise!
The finest flower which blossoms from it for me is this,
That I call myself a ‘slave’ and the cypress-tree ‘free.’ *
Now I entitle a fractious negro ‘a Houri of Paradise,’
And now address as ‘noble’ some miserable drunkard!”