6. Laylá and Majnún.

Of the last two of Jámí's “Seven Thrones,” the Romance Laylá wa Majnún of Laylá and Majnún and the Book of Wisdom of Alexander, copies are rare, but I have been able to examine them cursorily in a fine manuscript , * transcribed in 937/1530-1, belonging to Trinity College, Cambridge, and have selected the following passages as typical. The first two are from the Laylá and Majnún. * <text in Arabic script omitted> <text in Arabic script omitted>

On the meaning of the Love of the Loyal and the Loyalty
of Lovers.

“When the Dawn of Eternity whispered of Love, Love cast the Fire
of Longing into the Pen.
The Pen raised its head from the Tablet of Not-Being, and drew a
hundred pictures of wondrous aspect.
The Heavens are the offspring of Love: the Elements fell to Earth
through Love.
Without Love is no token of Good or Evil: that thing which is not
of Love is indeed non-existent.
This lofty azure Roof which revolveth through the days and nights
Is the Lotus of the Garden of Love, and the Ball [which lies] in the
curve of Love's Polo-stick.
That Magnetism which is inherent in the Stone, and which fastens
its grasp so firmly on the Iron,
Is a Love precipitated in Iron Resolve which hath appeared from
within the Stone.
Behold the Stone, how in this resting-place it becomes without
weight through longing for its opponent:
Judge therefrom of those who suffer sorrow in the attraction of the
love of those dear to the heart.
Although Love is painful, it is the consolation of pure bosoms.
Without the blessing of Love how shall a man escape from the
sorrow of the inverted Wheel [of Heaven]?”

Concerning the cause of the versification of this Book, and the
reason of the arrangement of this Address.

“When I withdrew the Veil from this Mystery, and prepared this
strange Song,
The Parrot of my Genius became an eater of sugar from the Story
of Joseph and Zulaykhá.
In this outpouring of sugar there sprang from my Pen sweet verses
mingled with sugar.

Therefrom tumult fell upon the World, and a gladness in the hearts
of lovers.
It was a Fountain of Graciousness, but therefrom my thirst was not
appeased.
The Bird of my Heart desired to sing another song on another topic.
When under fortunate auspices I cast lots, [the lot] fell on an account
of Majnún's plight.
Although aforetime two Masters, raised high above the Realm of
Verse,
Unloosed their tongues in the enunciation of subtleties, and therein
did full justice to speech;
That one * pouring forth pearls like a Treasure (ganj) from Ganja,
and this one * scattering sugar like a Parrot in India;
That one smiting the ears of [unjustified] pretension, and this one
unveiling the bride of the Ideal;
That one with his verse engraving an inscription on the rock, and
this one giving colour [to the tale] by his exquisite art;
That one raising his standard to the Zenith of Glory, and this one
preparing the spells of Magic;
I also bound my girdle behind me, and seated myself on my dromedary
fleet as the wind,
And wherever their Pegasus * attained, through their inspiring minds
I also urged onwards my camel in humility, and brought myself
within the range of their dust.
Though I fall behind their reckoning, yet their dust upon my face
sufficeth me.”

7. The Book of Wisdom of Alexander.

The following anecdote from the Khirad-náma-i-Sikandarí , or “Book of Wisdom of Alexander,” is taken from the same manuscript * as the last two extracts:

Story of the Kite which lent an ear to the Frog's talk, and in
hope of credit let slip the cash from its hand.

“The cycle of heaven now bids me indite
For example the tale of the frog and the kite.
A kite, wont to prey on the birds of the air,
By the weakness of age was reduced to despair.
For soaring its pinions no longer avail;
For hunting the strength of its talons doth fail.
From the depth of its soul bitter wailing arose;
An abode by the shore of a lakelet it chose.
Now when in that place it had dwelt for a spell
On a sudden a frog in its clutches there fell.
The miserable frog made a piteous appeal:
‘To woe thou hast turned,’ it lamented, ‘my weal!’
‘O haste not to seek my destruction,’ it cried;
‘Turn the steed of intent from my murder aside!
‘An unsavoury morsel I yield at the best,
‘Neither sweet to the palate not good to digest.
‘My body is nothing save ill-flavoured skin:
‘What eater of meat can find pleasure therein?
‘Unclose then thy beak, leave me free to depart,
‘And tidings of gladness convey to my heart!
‘Then by magic and spells evermore at thy wish
‘I will guide thee to toothsome and savoury fish,
‘In the river's clear streamlets long nurtured and bred,
‘And with various food-stuffs abundantly fed,
‘From the head to the tail flesh and fatness alone,
‘With scarcely a skin and with hardly a bone!
‘Their bellies like silver, their backs bright of blee,
‘Their eyes like reflections of stars in the sea.
‘With silvery scales back and sides are alight
‘As with God's starry largesse the heavens by night.
‘Far better, all persons of taste will agree,
‘Is a mouthful of such than a hundred like me.’

The kite, by an oath confirmation to seek,
Relaxed its control: the frog fell from its beak;
With one leap it returned to its watery lair,
And the kite once again was the slave of despair
Its seat in the dust of destruction it took,
Neither frog in its talons nor fish on its hook.

That kite disappointed is like unto me,
Whose soul has been turned from the pathway of glee.
Composure has quitted my heart at the thought
Of finding expression for thoughts so distraught.
In my hands, through my lack of good fortune, I find
Neither graces of speech nor composure of mind.
O cupbearer, come, pass the bowl, I entreat,
And like heaven, I pray thee, the cycle repeat!
That wine I desire which to peace giveth birth,
And frees us from all the defilements of earth.
O minstrel, approach, that the listening lute
At the touch of thy fingers may cease to be mute.
The heart of the heedless shall wake at its cry,
And the message of angels descend from the sky.”

As the Sab'a (“Septet”) of Jámí was admittedly inspired by and modelled on the Khamsa (“Quintet”) of Niẓámí,

Comparison of Jámí as a romantic poet with Niẓámí some comparison of their respective styles and methods may fairly be demanded. As I consider that in questions of literary taste it is very difficult for a foreigner to judge, I requested my Persian colleague, Mírzá Bihrúz, son of the distinguished physician and writer Mírzá Abu'l-Faḍl of Sáwa, a young man of great promise and ability, well read in both Arabic and Persian literature, to write a short essay on this point, and I here reproduce in English the gist of his opinions.

Jámí's verses, writes Mírzá Bihrúz, rival, and perhaps even excel, those of Niẓámí in poetical form, sweetness and simplicity, being unlaboured and altogether free from artificiality; but they fall far short of them in strength (matánat), poetic imagination and eloquence. To appreciate and enjoy Niẓámí a profound knowledge of the Persian language is required, while Jámí can be read with pleasure by all, whence his greater fame and popularity, especially in India, Turkey and other lands where Persian literature is an exotic. Moreover Niẓámí was a man of far-reaching attainments, not only in the language and history of his country, but in the sciences, especially the mathematical sciences, of his time, so that often he cannot be understood except by a reader similarly gifted. Such an one, however, will find in him depths and subtleties for which he would seek in vain in Jámí's poetry.

In one only of his “Five Poems” does Niẓámí challenge comparison with his great predecessor Firdawsí, to wit in Niẓámí and Firdawsí his “Alexander Book” (Sikandar-náma), which, alike in metre and subject-matter, resembles the corresponding portion of the Sháh-náma, but, in the judgement of most critics, falls short of it. * But here Niẓámí was apparently more hampered than Firdawsí by the fanaticism of a less tolerant age, as he hints in the following lines:

“The world was so warmed by Fire-worship
That thou mayst well be ashamed of thy Muhammadanism.
We are Musulmáns, while he is called a Guebre (gabr):
If that be heathenism (gabrí), what is Muhammadanism?
Return, O Niẓámí, to the tenour of thy tale,
For harsh are the notes of the bird of admonition!”

Jámí, though a mystic, was essentially an orthodox Muhammadan, and shows little of the enthusiasm for pre- Jámí's close imitation of Niẓámí Islamic Persia which inspired Firdawsí, and, in a lesser degree, Niẓámí. Of his indebtedness to the latter he makes no secret, and, indeed, follows his footsteps with extraordinary closeness, though here and there he introduces topics and dissertations entirely his own. * Not only does he imitate Niẓámí in the titles, metres and subdivisions of his poems, but even in minute personal details. Thus each poet addresses himself and gives advice to a seven-year-old son, the only difference being that while Niẓámí encourages his son to study Medicine, Jámí recommends Theology. The parallelism is especially apparent in the sections dealing with the “cause of the versification of the tale” of Laylá and Majnún in the respective versions of the two poets, but lack of space compels me to omit the illustrations of this given by Mírzá Bihrúz in his essay. Such critical comparison of the works of the great Persian poets is very important and has hitherto been too much neglected, but the necessary preliminary work of a historical, biographical and bibliographical character is all that I have been able to attempt in this and the preceding volumes on the literary history of Persia.

Of Jámí's lyric poetry, embodied, as already mentioned * in three separate Díwáns, it is impossible to give an adequate Jámí's lyric poetry account in this volume, which has already exceeded in bulk the limits I had assigned to it. In Europe German scholars alone have done much work in this field, notably von Rosenzweig, * Rückert * and Wickerhauser in his Blütenkranz. * Having regard to the eminence of Jámí in this field also, and to the abundance of his output, a separate monograph would be required to do adequate justice to the subject, which deserves fuller study not only on account of Jámí's own merit as a lyric poet, but also by reason of the profound influence which, as already indicated, * he exercised over his successors, not only in Persia, but also in Turkey. I hope that it may be possible to recur to his lyric poetry in my next volume, when I come to trace the development of the ghazal in later times, but for the moment I must content myself with a few specimens selected after a cursory perusal of the edition of his first Díwán printed at Constantinople in 1284/1867-8, and based, as stated in the colophon, on an autograph manuscript. * I have also at hand a much fuller text of the same Díwán lithographed at Lucknow in 1298/1881, which contains many poems omitted in the Turkish edition, and comprises 568 as against 182 pages.