A'in-i Akbarī - The Ain-i-Akbarī, Volume 1

There are few events in Indian history so confused as the details attending the death of 'Usmán. Khwájah 'Usmán, according to the Makhzan i Afghání, was the second son of Miyán 'I´sá Khán Lohání, who after the death of Qutlú Khán was the leader of the Afgháns in Oṛísá and Southern Bengal. Qutlú left three sons— Naçíb Sháh, Lodí Khán, Jamál Khán. 'I´sá Khán left five sons, Khwájah Sulaimán, 'Usmán, Walí, Ibráhím. Stewart makes 'Usmán a son of Qutlú (History of Bengal, p. 133). Sulaimán ‘reigned’ for a short time. He killed in a fight with the imperialists, Himmat Singh, son of Rájah Mán Singh (vide p. 485, No. 244), held lands near the Bráhmaputra, and subjected the Rájahs of the adjacent countries. 'Usmán succeeded him, and received from Mán Singh lands in Oṛísá and Sátgáṉw, and later in Eastern Bengal, with a revenue of 5 to 6 lacs per annum. His residence is described to have been the Kohistán i Dháká, or ‘hills of Dháká’ (Tipárah?), the viláyat i Dháká, or District of Dháká, and Dháká itself. The fight with Usmán took place on Sunday, 9th Muharram, 1021, or 2nd March, 1612,¹ at a distance of 100 kos from Dháká. My MS. of the Makhzan calls the place of the battle Nek Ujyál.² Stewart (p. 134) places the battle “on the banks of the Subarnríkhá river” in Oṛísá, which is impossible, as Shujá'at Khán arrived again in Dháká on the 6th Çafar, or 26 days after the battle. According to the Tuzuk, Islám Khán was in Dháká, when the fight took place, and Walí Khán submitted to Shujá'at, who had been strengthened by a corps under 'Abdussalám, son of Mu'azzam Khán (No. 260); but the Makhzan says that Islám besieged Walí in the Mahalls where 'Usmán used to live, between the battle-field and Dháká, and afterwards in the Fort of Dháká itself. Walí, on his submission, was sent to court, with 7 lacs of rupees and 300 elephants taken from 'Usmán, received a title, a jágír, and was made a commander of 1000, after which he lived comfortably. According to the Maásir, as said above, he was murdered before he came to court. The Tuzuk says nothing about him.

Stewart says (p. 136) that he was taken to court by Hoshang, Islám Khán's son; but the Tuzuk, p. 115, though it has a long passage on the Mugs which he brought with him, does not mention the Afghán prisoners.

The Makhzan also says that 'Usmán, after receiving his wound at the time when the battle was nearly decided in his favor, was carried off by Walí in a litter, and buried on the road. When Shujá'at came up to the place where he had been buried, he had 'Usmán's corpse taken out, cut off the head, and sent it to court.

'Usmán is said to have been so stout, that he was obliged to travel on an elephant. At his death, he was forty-two years of age.

The Dutch traveller De Laët (p. 488, note) has the following interesting passage: Rex (Jahángír) eodem tempore misit Tseziad ghanum Chiech zaden (Shujá'at Khán Shaikhzádah) ad Tzalanghanum (Islám Khán) qui Bengalae praeerat, ut illum in praefecturam Odiae (Oṛísá) mitteret. Sed Osmanchanus Patanensis, qui jam aliquot annis regionem quae Odiam et Daeck (between Oṛísá and Dháká, i. e. the Sunderban) interjacet, tenuerat et limites regni incursaverat, cum potentissimo exercitu advenit, Daeck oppugnaturus. Tzalanchanus autem praemisit adversus ipsum (Usmán) Tzesiad chanum, una cum Mirza Ifftager et Ethaman chano (Iftikhár Khán and Ihtimám Khán¹) et aliis multis Omerauvvis, cum reliquis copiis X aut XV cosarum intervallo subsequens, ut suis laborantibus subsideo esset. Orto dein certamine inter utrumque exercitum, Efftager et Mierick Zilaier (Mírak Jaláir— not in the Tuzuk) tam acrem impressionem fecerunt, ut hostes loco moverent; sed Osman inter haec ferocissimum elephantum in illos emisit, ita ut regii vicissim cedere cogerentur, et Efftager caederetur; Tzesiad gaunus autem et ipse elephanto insidens, ut impetum ferocientis belluae declinaret, se e suo dejecit, et crus prefregit, ita ut aegre a suis e certamine subduceretur, et regii passim fugam capescerent; actumque fuisset de regiis, nisi inopinatus casus proelium restituisset; miles quidem saucius humi jacens, casu Osmano, qui elephanto vehebatur, oculum globo trajecit, e quo vulnere paulo post expiravit, cujus morte milites illius ita fuerunt consternati, ut statim de fuga cogitarent. Regii vero ordinibus sensim restitutis, eventum proelii Tzalanchano perscripsere: qui biduo post ad locum venit ubi pugnatum fuerat, et Tzedsiatgano e vulnere defuncto, magnis itineribus fratrem (Walí Khán) et biduam atque liberos Osmanis assecutus, vivos cepit, eosque cum elephantis et omnibus thesauris defuncti, postquam Daeck Bengalae metropolim est reversus, misit ad regem Anno…… (the year is left out).

De Laët says that Shujá'at Khán died from a fall from his elephant during the battle; but the accident took place some time later. The Maásir says that he was on horseback, when Usmán's elephant, whom the Tuzuk calls Gajpatí, and Stewart Bukhtah (?), knocked him over, but Sh. quickly disentangled himself, and stuck his dagger into the animal's trunk.

The Makhzan says that the plunder amounted to 7 lacs of rupees and 300 elephants.

371. Mi´rza´ Khwa´jah, son of Mírzá Asadullah. Vide No. 116.

372. Mi´rza´ Shari´f, son of Mírzá 'Alá-uddín.

373. Shukrullah [Zafar Khán], son of Zain Khán Kokah (No. 34).

He was mentioned above on p. 346. On the death of his father, he was made a commander of 700, and appears to have received, at the end of Akbar's reign, the title of Zafar Khán.

As his sister was married to Jahángír (p. 345, and p. 477, note 2), Z. Kh. was rapidly promoted. When the emperor, in the second year of his reign, left Láhor for Kábul, he halted at Mauza' Ahroí,¹ near Fort Aṭak, the inhabitants of which complained of the insecurity of the district arising from the predatory habits of the K'hatar (p. 456, note 2) and Dilahzák tribes (p. 487, note). Zafar was appointed to Aṭak, vice Ahmad Beg Khán (No. 191), and was ordered to remove the tribes to Láhor, keep their chiefs imprisoned, and restore all plunder to the rightful owners. On Jahángír's return from Kábul, he joined the emperor, and was in the following year promoted to a mançab of 2000, 1000 horse. In the 7th year, he was made a commander of 3000, 2000 horse, and governor of Bihár. In the 10th year, he was removed, went back to court, where he received an increase of 500 horse, and then served in Bangash. ‘Nothing else is known of him.’ Maásir.

From the Tuzuk (p. 343) we see that Zafar Khán died in the beginning of 1031, when Jahángír made his son Sa'ádat a commander of 800, 400 horse.

Sa'ádat Khán, his son. He served in Kábul, and was at the end of Jahángír's reign a commander of 1500, 700 horse. In the 5th year after Sháhjahán's accession, he was made a commander of 1500, 1000 horse, and was promoted up to the 25th year to a full command of 3000 horse. He again served in Kábul, and under Murád Bakhsh in Balkh and Badakhshán, was made commandant of Tirmiz, and distinguished himself in repelling a formidable night attack made by Subhán Qulí Khán, ruler of Bukhárá (19th year). Later he served in the Qandahár wars, was in the 29th year Faujdár of Upper and Lower Bangash, and two years later commandant of Fort Kábul.

In 1069, the second year of Aurangzíb's reign, he was killed by his son Sherullah. Mahábat Khán, çúbahdár of Kábul, imprisoned the murderer.

374. Mi´r 'Abdul Mu´min, son of Mír Samarqandí.

Mír Samarqandí was a learned man who came during Bairám's regency to A´grah. Badáoní III., 149.

375. Lashkari´, son of Mírzá Yúsuf Khán (No. 35).

Vide above p. 374, and for his wife under No. 351.

376. A´gha´ Mulla´ Qazwíní. Vide No. 278.

377. Muhammad 'Ali´ of Jám.

Jám is a place in Khurásán, famous for its Bábá Shaikhí melons. It has given name to the two poets Púr Bahá and the renowned 'Abdurrahmán Jámí.

378. Mat'hura´ Da´s, the K'hatrí.

379. Sat'hura´ Da´s, his son.

The latter served in the 26th year (989) under Sulṭán Murád in Kábul. Akbarn., III., 333.

380. Mi´r Mura´d, brother of Sháh Beg Kolabí (No. 148). Vide No. 282.

381. Kalla´, the Kachhwáhah.

He served in 989 under Prince Murád in Kábul.

382. Sayyid Darwi´sh, son of Shams i Bukhárí.

383. Junaid Murul.

A Shaikh Junaid served under Shiháb Khán (No. 26) in Gujrát. He was killed in the Khaibar catastrophe (Akbarn., III., 190, 498).

384. Sayyid Abu´ Is-ha´q, son of Mírzá Rafí'uddín i Çafawí.

He was mentioned on p. 439. In the 36th year, he served against the Jám and Muzaffar of Gujrát.

His father Rafí'uddín was a learned man of saintly habits, and died at A´grah in 954 or 957. One of his ancestors was Mu'ínuddín, author of a commentary to the Qorán, entitled Tafsír i Ma'ání.

385. Fath Kha´n, superintendent of the leopards.

In 985, Akbar cured his sore eyes by blood letting, which Abulfazl describes, according to his custom, as a miracle. F. K. was in change of the hunting leopards.

There is some confusion in the histories regarding the Fath Kháns of Akbar's reign. First, there is Fattú Khán Afghán. Fattú is the same as Fath. His title is Masnad i 'A´lí, and his son was mentioned above, No. 306. Secondly, Fath Khán Fílbán, who when young was Akbar's elephant driver (fílbán). He was subsequently made Amír, and according to my two MSS. of the Ṭabaqát, died in 990. But Badáoní (II, 353) mentions Fath Khán Fílbán as alive in 994, when he accompanied Qásim Khán (No. 59) on his march to Kashmír; but the Akbarnámah, in the corresponding passage (III., 512) calls him Fath Khán Masnad i 'A´lí. Dowson's edition of Elliot's Historians (I, 244, 250) mentions a Fath Khán Bahádur. A Fath Khán Tughluq was mentioned under No. 187, p. 465.

386. Muqi´m Kha´n, son of Shujá'at Khán (No. 51). Vide p. 371.

He served in the siege of A´sír, and in the 46th year in the Dak'hin. Akbarn., III., 825, 865.

387. La´lah, son of Rájah Bír Baṛ (No. 85).

The Akbarnámah (III., 865) calls him the eldest son of Rájah Bír Baṛ. Vide p. 405.

388. Yu´suf i Kashmi´ri´. Vide No. 228.

389. Habi´ Yasa´wul.

Habí is an abbreviation of Habíb.

390. Haidar Dost, brother of Qásim 'Alí Khán (No. 187).

391. Dost Muhammad, son of Bábá Dost.

392. Sha´hrukh Dantúrí.

Dantúr, Dhantúr, or Dhantáwar, is a district near the Kashmír¹ frontier. The Tuzuk (pp. 287, 291) says that Dhantúr, during Akbar's reign, was ruled over by Sháhrukh, but now (in 1029, 14th year of Jahángír) by his son Bahádur. Bahádur was a commander of 200, 100 horse, and served under Mahábat in Bangash.

393. Sher Muhammad.

He served in 993 in the Dak'hin. Akbarn., III., 472.

A Sher Muhammad Díwánah was mentioned on p. 316. He had at first been in the service of Khwájah Mu'azzam, brother of Akbar's mother. When Akbar, in the 10th year, was at Jaunpúr, engaged with the rebellion of Khán Zamán, Sher Muhammad Díwánah plundered several places in Parganah Samánah, the faujdár of which was Mullá Núruddín Tarkhán. The Mullá had left his vakíl Mír Dost Muhammad in Samánah. Sh. M. D. invited him and treacherously murdered him at the feast. Plundering several places he went to Máler, when he was surprised by the Mullá at a place called Dhanúrí in Samánah. Sh. M. D. fled, but his horse ran against the trunk of a tree and threw him down. He was captured and executed, A. H. 973. Akbarn., II., 332.

394. 'Ali´ Quli´ [Beg, Istajlú, Sher Afkan Khán].

He was the safarchí, or table-attendant, of Ismá'íl II, king of Persia. After his death, he went over Qandahár to India, and met at Multán the KhánKhánán (No. 29), who was on his march to T'hat'hah. At his recommendation, he received a mançab. During the war he rendered distinguished services. Soon after his arrival at court, Akbar married him to Mihrunnisá (the future Núr Jahán), daughter of Mírzá Ghiás Ṭahrání (No. 319). Ghiás's wife had accession to the imperial harem, and was on her visits often accompanied by her daughter. Prince Salím saw her, and fell in love with her, and Akbar, to avoid scandal, married her quickly to 'Alí Qulí.

'Alí Qulí accompanied the prince on his expedition against the Ráná, and received from him the title of Sher Afkan Khán. On his accession, he received Bardwán as tuyúl. His hostile encounter with Shaikh Khúbú (No. 275) was related on p. 496. The Maásir says that when he went to meet the Çúbahdár, his mother put a helmet (dubalghah) on his head, and said, “My son make his mother cry, before he makes your mother weep,” then kissed him, and let him go.

'Alí Q.'s daughter, who, like her mother, had the name of Mihrunnisá, was later married to Prince Shahryár, Jahángír's fifth son.

Jahángír in the Tuzuk expresses his joy at 'A. Q.'s death, and hopes that “the blackfaced wretch will for ever remain in hell.” Kháfí Khán (I., p. 267) mentions an extraordinary circumstance, said to have been related by Núr Jahán's mother. According to her, Sher Afkan was not killed by Quṭbuddín's men, but, wounded as he was, managed to get to the door of his house, with the intention of killing his wife, whom he did not wish to fall into the emperor's hands. But her mother would not let him enter, and told him to mind his wounds, especially as Mihrunnisá had committed suicide by throwing herself into a well. “Having heard the sad news, Sher Afkan went to the heavenly mansions.”

His body was buried in the shrine of the poet Bahrám Saqqá (vide below among the poets); the place is pointed out to this day at Bardwán.

A verse is often mentioned by Muhammadans in allusion to four tigers which Núr Jahán killed with a musket. The tigers had been caught (Tuzuk, p. 186), and Núr Jahán requested Jahángír to let her shoot them. She killed two with one ball each, and the other two with two bullets, without missing, for which the emperor gave her a present of one thousand Ashrafís. One of the courtiers said on the spur of the moment—

“Though Núr Jahán is a woman, she is in the array of men a zan i sher afkan,” i. e. either the wife of Sher Afkan, or a woman who throws down (afkan) tigers (sher).

395. Sha´h Muhammad, son of Masnad i 'A´lí.

Vide Nos. 306 and 385.

396. Sanwalda´s Ja´don.

He accompanied Akbar on his forced march to Patan and Ahmadábád (p. 416, note), and served in 989 under Prince Murád in Kábul. In 992, he was assaulted and dangerously wounded by some Bháṭí. Akbar visited him, as he was given up by the doctors; but he recovered after an illness of three years.

He was the son of Rájah Gopál Jádon's brother (vide No. 305), and Abulfazl calls him a personal attendant of the emperor. Akbarn., III., 24, 333, 435.

397. Khwa´jah Zahi´ruddi´n, son of Shaikh Khalílullah.

He served in the 31st year under Qásim Khán (No. 59) in the conquest of Kashmír, and in the 46th year in the Dak'hin.

His father is also called Sháh Khalílullah. He served in the 10th year against Khán Zamán, and under Mun'im Khán in Bengal and Oṛísá, and died in 983 at Gaur of fever (p. 376).

Father and son are not to be confounded with the more illustrious Mír Khalílullah of Yazd and his son Mír Zahíruddín, who in the 2nd year of Jahángír came as fugitives from Persia to Láhor. The history of this noble family is given in the Maásir.

398. Mi´r Abul Qa´sim of Níshápúr.

399. Ha´ji´ Muhammad Ardistání.

400. Muhammad Kha´n, son of Tarson Khán's sister (No. 32).

401. Khwa´jah Muqi´m, son of Khwájah Mírakí.

He served under 'Azíz Kokah in Bengal, and returned with him to court in the 29th year. In 993, he served again in Bengal, and was besieged, together with Ṭáhir Saiful Mulúk (No. 201) in Fort G'horág'hát by several Bengal rebels. In the end of the 35th year (beginning of 999), he was made Bakhshí. Akbarn., III., 418, 470, 610.

Vide Dowson's edition of Elliot's Historians, I., pp. 248, 251.

402. Qa´dir Quli´, foster brother of Mírzá Sháhrukh (No. 7).

He served in the 36th year in Gujrát. Akbarn., III., 621.

403. Fi´ru´zah, a slave of the emperor Humáyún.

Badáoní (III, 297) says that he was captured, when a child, by a soldier in one of the wars with India, and was taken to Humáyún, who brought him up with Mírzá Muhammad Hakím, Akbar's brother. He played several musical instruments and composed poems. He came to India with Ghází Khán i Badakhshí (No. 144).

Badáoní also says that he was a Langá.

404. Ta´j Kha´n K'hatriah. Vide No. 172.

405. Zainuddi´n 'Ali´.

He served in the 25th year (end of 988) under Mán Singh against M. Muhammad Hakím.

406. Mi´r Shari´f of Koláb.

407. Paha´r Kha´n, the Balúch.

He served in the 21st year against Daudá, son of Surjan Háḍá (No. 96), and afterwards in Bengal. In 989, the 26th year, he was tuyúldár of Gházípúr, and hunted down Ma'çúm Khán Farankhúdí, after the latter had plundered Muhammadábád (p. 444). In the 28th year, he served in Gujrát, and commanded the centre in the fight at Maisánah, S. E. of Patan, in which Sher Khán Fuládí was defeated. Akbarn., III., 160, 355, 416.

Dr. Wilton Oldham, C. S., states in his ‘Memoir of the Ghazeepoor District’ (p. 80) that Faujdár Paháṛ Khán is still remembered in Gházípúr, and that his tank and tomb are still objects of local interest.

408. Keshu´ Da´s, the Ráṭ'hor.

In the beginning of 993 (end of the 29th year), he served in Gujrát. A daughter of his was married to Prince Salím (p. 310). From the Akbarnámah, III., 623, it appears that he is the son of Rái Rái Singh's brother (No. 44), and perished, in the 36th year, in a private quarrel.

409. Sayyid La´d Ba´rha.

In 993, Sayyid Láḍ served with the preceding in Gujrát, and in the 46th year, in the Dak'hin.

410. Nasi´r Maín.

Maín (), or Munj, is the name of a subdivision of Rang'har Rájpúts, chiefly inhabiting Sarhind and the Bahat Duáb. “The only famous man which this tribe has produced, is 'I´sá Khán Maín. He served under Bahádur Sháh and Jahándár Sháh.” Maásir.

411. Sa´ngah, the Puṉwar.

412. Qa´bil, son of 'Atíq.

415. Nu´ram, foster brother of Mírzá Ibráhím.

He served in the 31st year against the Afgháns on Mount Teráh, and in 1000, under Mán Singh in the expedition to Oṛísá. Akbarn., III., 532, 642.

Mírzá Ibráhím was Akbar's youngest brother, who died as an infant.

The above list of Grandees includes the names of such Mançabdárs above the rank of commanders of Five hundred as were alive and dead in the 40th year of his Majesty's reign, in which this book was completed; but the list of the commanders from Five hundred to Two hundred only contains such as were alive in that year. Of those who hold a lower rank and are now alive, I shall merely give the number. There are at present

Scarcely a day passes away on which qualified and zealous men are not appointed to mançabs or promoted to higher dignities. Many Arabians and Persians also come from distant countries, and are honoured with commissions in the army, whereby they obtain the object of their desires. A large number again, both of old and young servants, receive their discharge, and are rewarded by his Majesty with daily allowances or grants of land, that render them independent.

As I have mentioned the Grandees of the state, both such as are still alive and such as have gone to their rest, I shall also give the names of those who have been employed in the administration of the government, and thus confer upon them everlasting renown.

The following have been Vakíls, or prime-ministers,—¹

Bairám Khán (No. 10); Mun'im Khán (No. 11); Atgah Khán (No. 15); Bahádur Khán (No. 22); Khwájah Jahán (No. 110); KhánKhánán Mírzá Khán (No. 29); Khán i A'zam Mírzá Kokah (No. 21).

The following have been Vazírs, or ministers of finances—

Mír 'Azízullah Turbatí; Khwájah Jaláluddín Mahmúd² of Khurásán (No. 65); Khwájah Mu'ínuddín i Farankhúdí (No. 128); Khwájah 'Abdul Majíd A´çaf Khán (No. 49); Vazír Khán (No. 41); Muzaffar Khán (No. 37); Rájah Todar Mall (No. 39); Khwájah Sháh Mançúr of Shíráz (No. 122); Qulij Khán (No. 42); Khwájah Shamsuddín Khawáfí (No. 159).

The following have been Bakhshís—

Khwájah Jahán (No. 110); Khwájah Ṭáhir of Sijistán (No. 111); Mauláná Habí Bihzádí,¹ Mauláná Darwísh Muhammad of Mashhad; Mauláná 'Ishqí,² Muqím of Khurásán (No. 401); Sulṭán Mahmúd of Badakhshán; Lashkar Khán (No. 90); Shahbáz Khán (No. 80); Ráí Puruk'hotam; Shaíkh Faríd i Bukhárí (No. 99); Qází 'Alí of Baghád; Ja'far Beg A´çaf Khán (No. 98); Khwájah Nizámuddín Ahmad;³ Khwájagí Fathullah (No. 258).

The following have been Çadrs—⁴

Mír Fathullah; Shaikh Gadáí, son of Shaikh Jamál i Kambú; Khwájagí Muhammad Çálih, descendant in the third generation from Khwájah 'Abdullah Marwáríd; Mauláná 'Abdul Báqí; Shaikh 'Abdunnabí; Sulṭán Khwájah (No. 108); Çadr Jahán (No. 194).

The principal facts which Abulfazl's list of Grandees discloses are, first, that there were very few Hindústání Musulmáns in the higher ranks of the army and the civil service, most of the officers being foreigners, especially Persians and Afgháns; secondly, that there was a very fair sprinkling of Hindú Amírs, as among the 415 Mançabdárs there are 51 Hindús.

The Mançabdárs who had fallen into disgrace, or had rebelled, have mostly been excluded. Thus we miss the names of Mír Sháh Abul Ma'álí; Khwájah Mu'azzam, brother of Akbar's mother; Bábá Khán Qáqshál; Ma'çúm i Kábulí (p. 431, note); 'Arab Bahádur; Jabárí, &c. But there are also several left out, as Khizr Khwájah (p. 365, note 2), Sulṭán Husain Jaláir (vide under No. 64), Kamál Khán the Gak'khar (vide p. 456), Mír Gesú (p. 421), Naurang Khán, son of Quṭbuddín Khán (p. 334), Mírzá Qulí (p. 385), Rájah A´skaran (p. 458), and others, for whose omission it is difficult to assign reasons.

Comparing Abulfazl's list with that in the Ṭabaqát, or the careful lists of Sháhjahán's grandees in the Pádisháhnámah, we observe that Abulfazl has only given the mançab, but not the actual commands, which would have shewn the strength of the contingents (tábínán). In other words, Abulfazl has merely given the zátí rank (p. 241). This will partly account for the discrepancies in rank between his list and that by Nizámuddín in the Ṭabaqát, which may advantageously be given here. Nizám only gives mançabdárs of higher rank, viz.

In this above list, a few grandees are mentioned whom Abulfazl classes among the commanders of 400. Nizám, however, adds the following note to his own list—“Let it be known that the title of Amír is given to all such as hold Mançabs from 500 upwards. None of those whom I have enumerated holds a less rank.”

The Historian Badáoní has not given a list of Amírs, but has compiled instead a very valuable list of the poets, doctors, learned men, and saints of Akbar's reign, together with biographical notices, which make up the third volume of the edition printed by the Asiatic Society of Bengal. With his usual animus he says (III. 1,)—“I shall not give the names of the Amírs, as Nizám has given them in the end of his work, and besides, most of them have died without having obtained the pardon of God.

Of the Mançabdárs whose names Abulfazl has not given, because the A´ín list refers to the period prior to the 40th year of Akbar's reign, the most famous are Mahábat Khán, Khán Jahán Lodí (p. 503), and 'Abdullah Khán Fírúz-jang.

We have no complete list of the grandees of Jahángír's reign; but the Dutch traveller De Laët, in his work on India (p. 151), has a valuable note on the numerical strength of Jahángír's Mançabdárs, which may be compared with the lists in the A´ín and the Pádisháhnámah (II., 717). Leaving out the princes, whose mançabs were above 5000, we have—

The number of Ahadís under Jahángír, De Laët fixes as follows—

Under Sháhjahán, 17 Grandees were promoted, up to the 20th year of his reign, to mançabs above 5000. There is no Hindú among them.

De Laët has not mentioned how many of the Amírs were Hindús. But we may compare the lists of the A´ín and the Pádisháhnámah.

We find under Akbar—

Under Sháhjahán (20th year of his reign), we have—

The names of commanders below 500 are not given in the Pádisháhnámah. Regarding other facts connected with the relative position of Hindús and Muhammadans at the Mughul court, I would refer the reader to my ‘Chapter from Muhammadan History,’ Calcutta Review, April, 1871.

I shall now speak of the sages of the period and classify them according to their knowledge, casting aside all differences of creed. His Majesty who is himself the leader of the material and the ideal worlds, and the sovereign over the external and the internal, honours five classes of sages as worthy of attention. And yet all five, according to their light, are struck with his Majesty's perfection, the ornament of the world. The first class, in the lustre of their star, perceive the mysteries of the external and the internal, and in their understanding and the breadth of their views fully comprehend both realms of thought, and acknowledge to have received their spiritual power from the throne of his Majesty. The second class pay less attention to the external world; but in the light of their hearts they acquire vast knowledge. The third class do not step beyond the arena of observation (nazar), and possess a certain knowledge of what rests on testimony. The fourth class look upon testimony as something filled with the dust of suspicion, and handle nothing without proof. The fifth class are bigoted, and cannot pass beyond the narrow sphere of revealed testimony. Each class has many subdivisions.

I do not wish to set up as a judge and hold forth the faults of people. The mere classification was repugnant to my feelings; but truthfulness helps on the pen.

1. Shaikh Mubárak of Nágor.¹

Vide p. 490. The Ṭabaqát also mentions a Shaikh Mubárak of Alwar, and a Sayyid Mubárak of Gwáliár.

2. Shaikh Nizám.

Abul Fazl either means the renowned Nizámuddín of Amet'hí, near Lak'hnau, of the Chishtí sect, who died A. H, 979; or Nizámuddín of Nárnaul, of the same sect, who died in 997.

3. Shaikh Adhan.

He also belonged to the Chishtís, and died at Jaunpúr in 970.

4. Miyán Wajíhuddín.

Died at Ahmadábád in 998. The Ṭabaqát mentions a contemporary, Shaikh Wajíhuddín Gujrátí, who died in 995.

5. Shaikh Ruknuddín.

He was the son of Shaikh 'Abdul Quddús of Gango. Badáoní saw him at Dihlí at the time of Bairám's fall.

6. Shaikh 'Abdul 'Azíz (of Dihlí).

7. Shaikh Jaláluddín.

He belongs to T'hanesar, and was the pupil and spiritual successor (khalífah) of 'Abdul Quddús of Gango. Died 989.

8. Shaikh Iláhdiyah.

Iláhdiyah is Hindústání for the Persian Iláhdád, ‘given (diyá) by God,’ ‘Theodore.’ He lived at Khairábád, and died in 993.

9. Mauláná Husámuddín.

“Mauláná Husámuddín Surkh of Láhor. He differed from the learned of Láhor, and studied theology and philosophy. He was very pious.” Ṭabaqát.

10. Shaikh 'Abdul Ghafúr.

He belongs to A'zampúr in Sambhal, and was the pupil of 'Abdul Quddús. died in 995.

11. Shaikh Panjú.

He was wrongly called Bechú on p. 104, note 2. He died in 969. Badáoní II., 53.

12. Mauláná Ismá'íl.

He was an Arabian, and the friend of Shaikh Husain, who taught in Humáyún's Madrasah at Dihlí. He was a rich man, and was killed by some burglars that had broken into his house.

22. Shaikh Ruknuddín Mahmúd¹ Kamángar (the bow maker).

23. Shaikh Amánullah.

24. Khwájah 'Abdushshahíd.

He is the son of Khwájagán Khwájah, son of the renowned Khwájah Ahrár. Vide No. 17, p. 322, and No. 108, p. 423. He died in 982, and was buried at Samarqand. He had been for twenty years in India, and held a jágír in Parganah , in the Bárí Duáb, where he maintained two thousand poor.

25. Shaikh Músá.

He was a smith (áhangar), and performed many miracles. He died in the beginning of Akbar's reign, and was buried at Láhor. The elder brother of Shaikh Salím i Chishtí also was called Shaikh Músá; vide p. 402. Vide also below, No. 102.

26. Bábá Balás.

27. Shaikh 'Aláuddín Majzúb. Vide Badáoní III., 61.

28. Shaikh Yúsuf Harkun.

The Ṭabaqát calls him Shaikh Yúsuf Harkun Majzúb of Láhor.

29. Shaikh Burhán.

He lived as a recluse in Kálpí, and subsisted on milk and sweetmeats, denying himself water. He knew no Arabic, and yet explained the Qurán. He was a Mahdawí. He died in 970 at the age of one hundred years, and was buried in his cell.

30. Bábá Kipúr.

Shaikh Kipúr Majzúb of Gwáliár, a Husainí Sayyid, was at first a soldier, then turned a bhíshtí, and supplied widows and the poor with water. He died in 979 from a fall from his gate.

31. Shaikh Abú Is-háq Firang. Vide Badáoní III., 48.

32. Shaih Dáúd.

He is called Jhanníwál from Jhanní near Láhor. His ancestors had come from Arabia and settled at Sítpúr in Multán, where Dáúd was born. Badáoní (III., p. 28) devotes eleven pages to his biography. He died in 982.

33. Shaikh Salím i Chishtí.

He was a descendant of Shaikh Faríd i Shakarganj, and lived in Fathpúr Síkrí, highly honoured by Akbar. Jahángír was called after him Salím. He died in 979. Several of his relations have been mentioned above, pp. 402, 492.

34. Shaikh Muhammad Ghaus of Gwáliár.

Vide No. 173, p. 457.

37. Mír Fathullah of Shíráz.

Vide pp. 33, 104, 199, 274. His brother was a poet and wrote under the takhalluç of Fárighí; vide Badáoní III., 292. His two sons were Mír Taqí and Mír Sharíf.

38. Mír Murtazá.

He is not to be confounded with Mír Murtazá, No. 162, p. 449. Mír Murtazá Sharíf of Shíráz died in 974 at Dihlí, and was buried at the side of the poet Khusrau, from where his body was taken to Mashhad. He had studied the Hadís under the renowned Ibn Hajar in Makkah, and then came over the Dak'hin to A´grah. Vide Akbarnámah II., 278, 337.

39. Mauláná Sa'íd of Turkistán.

He came in 968 from Máwará-lnahr to A´grah. Bad. II., 49. He died in Kábul in 970; l. c., III., 152.

40. Háfiz of Táshkand.

He is also called Háfiz Kumakí. He came in 977 from Táshkand to India, and was looked upon in Máwará-lnahr as a most learned man. He had something of a soldier in him, and used to travel about, like all Turks, with the quiver tied to his waist. He went over Gujrát to Makkah, and from there to Constantinople, where he refused a vazírship. Afterwards he returned to his country, where he died. Vide Badáoní II., 187.

41. Mauláná Sháh Muhammad.

Vide p. 106; Bad. II., 295, l. l.

42. Mauláná 'Aláuddín.

He came from Láristán, and is hence called Lárí. He was the son of Mauláná Kamáluddín Husain, and studied under Mauláná Jalál Dawwání Sháfi'í. He was for some time Akbar's teacher. Once at a darbár he placed himself before the Khán i A'zam, when the Mír Tozak told him to go back. “Why should not a learned man stand in front of fools,” said he, and left the hall, and never came again. He got 4000 bíghahs as sayúrghál in Sambhal, where he died.

43. Hakím Miçrí. Vide No. 254, p. 491.

44. Mauláná Shaikh Husain (of Ajmír).

He was said to be a descendant of the great Indian saint Mu'ín i Chishtí of Ajmír, was once banished to Makkah, and had to suffer, in common with other learned men whom Akbar despised, various persecutions. Badáoní III., 87.

45. Mauláná Mír Kalán.

He died in 981, and was buried at A´grah. He was Jahángír's first teacher. Bad. II., 170.

46. Ghází Khán. Vide No. 144, p. 440.

47. Mauláná Çádiq.

He was born in Samarqand, came to India, and then went to Kábul, where he was for some time the teacher of Mírzá Muhammad Hakím, Akbar's brother. He then went back to his home, where he was alive in 1001. The Ṭabaqát calls him Mullá Çádiq Halwáí. Badáoní (III., 255, where the Ed. Bibl. Indica has wrong Halwání) puts him among the poets.

48. Mauláná Sháh Muhammad.

Vide No. 41. This seems to be a mere repetition. Other Histories only mention one Mauláná of that name.

49. Mauláná Pír Muhammad. Vide No. 20, p. 324.

50. Mauláná 'Abdul Báqí.

He was a Çadr; vide pp. 272, 528.

51. Mírzá Muflis.

He was an Uzbak, came from Máwará-lnahr to India, and taught for some time in the Jámi' Masjid of Mu'ínuddín Farankhúdí (p. 434) at A´grah. He died in Makkah at the age of seventy. Vide Bad. II., 187.

52. Maulánázádah Shukr.

53. Mauláná Muhammad.

He lived at Láhor and was in 1004 nearly ninety years old. Badáoní (III., 154) calls him Mauláná Muhammad Muftí.

Abulfazl, however, means perhaps Mauláná Muhammad of Yazd, a learned and bigoted Shí'ah, who was well received by Akbar and Abulfazl, with whose innovations he at first agreed. But he got tired of them and asked for permission to go to Makkah. He was plundered on the road to Súrat. Mir-át. But Badáoní tells quite a different story; vide p. 189.

Or it may refer to No. 140, p. 438.

54. Qásim Beg.

Vide No. 350, p. 517, and p. 106. The Ṭabaqát also says of him that he was distinguished for his acquirements in the 'aqlí 'ulúm.

55. Mauláná Núruddín Tarkhán.

Vide p. 524. He was a poet and a man of great erudition. Towards the end of his life “he repented” and gave up poetry. He was for a long time Mutawallí of Humáyún's tomb in Dihlí, where he died.

The Ṭabaqát says that he was a good mathematician and astronomer. According to the Maásir, he was born in Jám in Khurásán, and was educated in Mashhad. He was introduced to Bábar, and was a private friend of Humáyún's, who like him was fond of the astrolabe. He went with the emperor to 'Iráq, and remained twenty years in his service. As poet, he wrote under the takhalluç of ‘Núrí.’ He is also called ‘Núrí of Safídún,’ because he held Safídún for some time as jágír. Akbar gave him the title of Khán, and later that of Tarkhán¹ and appointed him to Samánah.

71. Hakím Miçrí. Vide No. 254, p. 491.

72. Hakím ul Mulk.

His name is Shamsuddín and, like several other doctors of Akbar's court, he had come from Gílán on the Caspian to India. He was a very learned man. When the learned were driven from court and the innovations commenced, he asked for permission to go to Makkah (988), where he died.

73. Mullá Mír.

The Ṭabaqát calls him Mullá Mír Ṭabíb of Harát, grandson of Mullá 'Abdul Hai Yazdí.

74. Hakím Abul Fath. Vide No. 112, p. 424.

75. Hakím Zanbíl Beg. Vide No. 150, p. 442.

76. Hakím 'Alí of Gílán. Vide No. 192, p. 466.

77. Hakím Hasan.

He also came from Gílán. His knowledge, says Badáoní (III., 167), was not extensive, but he was an excellent man.

78. Hakím Aristú.

79. Hakím Fathullah.

He also came from Gílán, knew a great deal of medical literature, and also of astronomy. He wrote a Persian Commentary to the Qánún. In the first year of Jahángír's reign, he was a Commander of 1000, 300 horse (Tuzuk, p. 34). The Pádisháhnámah (I, b., 350) says that he afterwards returned to his country, where he committed suicide. His grandson, Fathullah, was a doctor at Sháhjahán's court.

80. Hakím Masíh ul Mulk.

He came from the Dak'hin, where he had gone from Shíráz. He was a simple, pious man, and was physician to Sulṭán Murád. He died in Málwah.

81. Hakím Jaláluddín Muzaffar. Vide No. 348, p. 516.

82. Hakím Luṭfullah. Vide No. 354, p. 518.

83. Hakím Saiful Mulk Lang.

Badáoní and the Ṭabaqát call him Saiful Mulúk. Because he killed his patients, he got the nickname of Saif ul Hukamá, ‘the sword of the doctors.’ He came from Damáwand, and was in A´grah during Bairám's regency. Later he went back to his country. He was also a poet and wrote under the takhalluç of ‘Shujá'í’. He is not to be confounded with No. 201, p. 473.

84. Hakím Humám. Vide No. 205, p. 474.

85. Hakím 'Ain ul Mulk. Vide No. 234, p. 480.

86. Hakím Shifáí.

The Mir-át mentions a Hakím Shifáí, who in his poetical writings calls himself ‘Muzaffar ibn i Muhammad Al-husainí Al-shifáí.’ He was born at Içfahán, and was a friend of Sháh'Abbás i Çafawí. He died in 1037. There is a copy of his Masnawí in the Library of the Asiatic Socy. of Bengal (No. 795).

87. Hakím Ni'matullah.

88. Hakím Dawáí.

Dawáí was also the takhalluç of No. 85.

89. Hakím Ṭalab 'Alí.

90. Hakím 'Abdurrabím.

91. Hakím Rúhullah.

92. Hakím Fakhruddín 'Alí.

93. Hakím Is-háq.

94. Shaikh Hasan and 95. Shaikh Bíná.

Shaikh Hasan of Pánípat, and his son Shaikh Bíná were renowned surgeons. Instead of ‘Bíná’, the MSS. have various readings. The Maásir has Phaniyá, the Ṭabaqát Bhaniyá.

Shaikh Bíná's son is the well known Shaikh Hasan, or Hassú, who under Jahángír rose to great honours, and received the title of Muqarrab Khán. Father and son, in the 41st year, succeeded in curing a bad wound which Akbar had received from a buck at a deer-fight. Hassú was physician to Prince Salím, who was much attached to him. After his accession, he was made a commander of 5000 and governor of Gujrát, in which capacity he came in contact with the English at Súrat. He gave no satisfaction, and was recalled. In the 13th year (1027), he was made governor of Bihár, and in the 16th, governor of A´grah. In the beginning of Sháhjahán's reign, he was pensioned off, and received Parganah Kairánah, his birthplace, as jágír. He constructed a mausoleum near the tomb of the renowned Saint Sharafuddín of Pánípat, and died at the age of ninety. In Kairánah he built many edifices, and laid out a beautiful garden with an immense tank. He obtained excellent fruit trees from all parts of India, and the Kairánah mangoes, according to the Maásir, have since been famous in Dihlí.

Muqarrab's son, Rizqullah, was a doctor under Sháhjahán, and a commander of 800. Aurangzeb made him a Khán. He died in the 10th year of Aurangzeb.

Muqarrab's adopted son is Masíhá i Kairánawí. His real name was Sa'dullah. He was a poet, and composed an epic on the story of Sítá, Rámchandra's wife.

100. Miyán Hátim.

He lived at Sambhal. The Historian Badáoní, when twelve years old, learned under him in 960. Hátim died in 969.

101. Miyán Jamál Khán.

He was Muftí of Dihlí, and died more than ninety years old in 984. He was a Kambú.

102. Mauláná 'Abdul Qádir.

He was the pupil of Shaikh Hámid Qádirí (buried at Hámidpúr, near Multán), and was at enmity with his own younger brother Shaikh Músá regarding the right of succession. 'Abdul Qádir used to say the nafl-prayers³ in the audience-hall of Fathpúr Síkrí, and when asked by Akbar to say them at home, he said, “My king, this is not your kingdom, that you should pass orders.” Akbar called him a fool, and cancelled his grant of land, whereupon 'Abdul Qádir went back to Uchh. Shaikh Músá did better; he joined the army, and became a commander of 500. Vide below Nos. 109, 131.

The Mir-át mentions a Mauláná 'Abdul Qádir of Sirhind as one of the most learned of Akbar's age.

103. Shaikh Ahmad.

The Ṭabaqát mentions a Shaikh Hájí Ahmad of Láhor, and a Shaikh Ahmad Hájí Púládí Majzúb of Sind. Vide also pp. 106, 206.

104. Makhdúm ul Mulk. Vide p. 172.

This is the title of Mauláná 'Abdullah of Sulṭánpúr, author of the 'Açmat i Anbiyá, and a commentary to the Shamáil unnabí. Humáyún gave him the titles of Makhdúm ul Mulk and Shaikh ul Islám. He was a bigoted Sunní, and looked upon Abulfazl from the beginning as a dangerous man. He died in 990 in Gujrát after his return from Makkah.

105. Mauláná 'Abdussalám.

The Ṭabaqát says, he lived at Láhor and was a learned man.

The Mir-át mentions another Mauláná 'Abdussalám of Láhor, who was a great lawyer (faqíh) and wrote a commentary to Baizáwí. He died more than ninety years old in the first year of Sháhjahán's reign.

106. Qází Çadruddín.

Qází Çadruddín Quraishí 'Abbásí of Jálindhar was the pupil of Makhdúm ul Mulk (No. 104). He was proverbial for his memory. He was attached to dervishes and held so broad views, that he was looked upon by common people as a heretic. When the learned were driven from court, he was sent as Qází to Bhroṉch, where he died. His son, Shaikh Muhammad, succeeded him. His family remained in Gujrát.

107. Mauláná Sa'dullah.

He lived at Biánah, and was looked upon as the best grammarian of the age. He was simple in his mode of life, but liberal to others. Towards the end of his life, he got silent and shut himself out from all intercourse with men, even his own children. He died in 989.

108. Mauláná Is-háq.

He was the son of Shaikh Kákú, and lived at Láhor. Shaikh Sa'dullah, Shaikh Munawwar, and many others, were his pupils. He died more than a hundred years old in 996.

109. Mír 'Abdullaṭíf. Vide No. 161, p. 447.

110. Mír Núrullah.

He came from Shustar and was introduced to Akbar by Hakím Abul Fath. He was a Shí'ah, but practised taqiyah among Sunnís, and was even well acquainted with the law of Abú Hanífah. When Shaikh Mu'ín, Qází of Láhor, retired, he was appointed his successor, and gave every satisfaction. After Jahángír's accession, he was recalled. Once he offended the emperor by a hasty word, and was executed.

111. Mauláná 'Abdul Qádir.

He was Akbar's teacher (ákhúnd). Vide No. 242, p. 485.

112. Qází 'Abdussamí.'

He was a Miyánkálí,¹ and according to Badáoní (II., 314) played chess for money, and drank wine. Akbar made him, in 990, Qází-lquzát, in place of Qází Jaláluddín Multání (No. 122). Vide Akbarnámah, III., 593.

113. Mauláná Qásim.

The Ṭabaqát mentions a Mullá Qásim of Qandahár.

114. Qází Hasan. Vide No. 281, p. 498.

115. Mullá Kamál.

The Ṭabaqát mentions a Shaikh Kamál of Alwar, the successor and relative of Shaikh Salím.

116. Shaikh Ya'qúb (of Kashmír). Vide below among the poets.

117. Mullá 'A´lam. Vide p. 159, note.

He died in 991, and wrote a book, entitled Fawátih ulwiláyat. Bad. II., 337.

118. Shaikh 'Abbunnabí. Vide pp. 173, 177, 185, 187, 272, 490, 547, note.

He was the son of Shaikh Ahmad, son of Shaikh 'Abdul Quddús of Gango, and was several times in Makkah, where he studied the Hadís. When he held the office of Çadr, he is said to have been arbitrary, but liberal. The execution of a Bráhman, the details of which are related in Badáoní (III., 80), led to the Shaikh's deposal.

Badáoní (III., 83) places his death in 991, the Mir-át in 992. 'Abdunnabí's family traced their descent from Abú Hanífah.

119. Shaikh Bhík.

The Ṭabaqát has also ‘Bhík’, Badáoní (III., 24) has ‘Bhíkan.’ Shaikh Bhík lived in Kákor near Lak'hnau. He was as learned as he was pious. He died in 981.

120. Shaikh Abul Fath.

Shaikh Abul Fath of Gujrát was the son-in-law of Mír Sayyid Muhammad of Jaunpúr, the great Mahdawí. He was in A´grah at the time of Bairám Khán.

121. Shaikh Baháuddín Muftí.

He lived at A´grah, and was a learned and pious man.

122. Qází Jaláluddín Multání. Vide pp. 175, 185.

He comes from near Bhakkar and was at first a merchant. He then took to law. In 990, he was banished and sent to the Dak'hin, from where he went to Makkah. He died there.

123. Shaikh Ziáuddín.

It looks as if Shaikh Ziáullah was intended; vide No. 173, p. 457.

124. Shaikh 'Abdul Wahháb.

125. Shaikh 'Umar.

126. Mír Sayyid Muhammad Mír 'Adl. Vide No. 140, p. 438, and No. 251, p. 490.

127. Mauláná Jamál.

The Ṭabaqát has a Mullá Jamál, a learned man of Multán. Badáoní (III, 108) mentions a Mauláná Jamál of , which is said to be a Mahallah of Láhor.

128. Shaikh Ahmadí.

Shaikh Ahmadí Fayyáz of Amet'hí, a learned man, contemporary of the saint Nizámuddín of Amethí (p. 537).

129. Shaikh 'Abdul Ghaní.¹

He was born at Badáon and lived afterwards in Dihlí a retired life. The Khán Khánán visited him in 1003.

130. Shaikh 'Abdul Wáhid.

He was born in Bilgrám, and is the author of a commentary to the Nuzhat-ul Arwáh, and several treatises on the technical terms (içtiláhát) of the Çúfís, one of which goes by the name of Sanábil.

131. Çadr i Jahán. Vide No. 194, p. 468.

132. Mauláná Ismá'íl. Vide above No. 12.

The Ṭabaqát mentions a Mullá Ismá'íl Muftí of Láhor, and a Mullá Ismá'íl of Awadh.

133. Mullá 'Abdul Qádir.

This is the historian Badáoní. Abulfazl also calls him Mullá in the Akbarnámah.

134. Mauláná Çadr Jahán.

This seems a repetition of No. 131.

135. Shaikh Jauhar.

136. Shaikh Munawwar.

Vide p. 106. He was born at Láhor, and was noted for his memory and learning. He is the author of commentaries to the Masháriqul-anwár (Hadís), the Badí 'ul bayán, the Irshád i Qází, &c. When the learned were banished from Court, he was imprisoned in Gwáliár, where he died in 1011.

His son, Shaikh Kabír, was also renowned for his learning. He died in 1026, in Ahmadábád, and was buried in the mausoleum of the great Ahmadábádí saint Sháh 'A´lam. Mir-át.

137. Qází Ibráhím.

Vide pp. 172, 174, 189. Badáoní and the Ṭabaqát mention a Hájí Ibráhím of A´grah, a teacher of the Hadís.

138. Mauláná Jamál. Vide above No. 127.

139. Bijai Sen Súr.

140. Bhán Chand.

I have now come to this distinguished class of men and think it right to say a few words about them. Poets strike out a road to the inaccessible realm of thought, and divine grace beams forth in their genius. But many of them do not recognize the high value of their talent, and barter it away from a wish to possess inferior store: they pass their time in praising the mean-minded, or soil their language with invectives against the wise. If it were not so, the joining of words were wonderful indeed; for by this means lofty ideas are understood.

He who joins words to words, gives away a drop from the blood of his heart.¹

Every one who strings words to words, performs, if no miracle, yet a wonderful action.²

I do not mean a mere external union. Truth and falsehood, wisdom and foolishness, pearls and common shells, though far distant from each other, have a superficial similarity. I mean a spiritual union; and this is only possible in the harmonious, and to recognize it is difficult, and to weigh it still more so.

For this reason his Majesty does not care for poets; he attaches no weight to a handful of imagination. Fools think that he does not care for poetry, and that for this reason he turns his heart from the poets. Notwithstanding this circumstance, thousands of poets are continually at court, and many among them have completed a díwán, or have written a masnawí. I shall now enumerate the best among them.

He was a man of cheerful disposition, liberal, active, an early riser. He was a disciple of the emperor, and was thus at peace with the whole world. His Majesty understood the value of his genius and conferred upon him the title of Malikush-shu'ará, or king of the poets.³ He wrote for nearly forty years under the name of Faizí, which he afterwards, under divine inspiration, changed to Fayyází, as he himself says in his ‘Nal Daman’—

Before this, whenever I issued anything,

The writing on my signet was ‘Faizí.’

But as I am now chastened by spiritual love,

I am the ‘Fayyází’ of the Ocean of Superabundance (God's love).¹

His excellent manners and habits cast a lustre on his genius. He was eminently distinguished in several branches. He composed many works in Persian and Arabic. Among others he wrote the Sawáṭi' ul-ilhám² (‘rays of inspiration’), which is a commentary to the Qorán in Arabic, in which he only employed such letters as have no dots. The words of the Çúrat ul Ikhláç³ contain the date of its completion.

He looked upon wealth as the means of engendering poverty,⁴ and adversity of fortune was in his eyes an ornament to cheerfulness. The door of his house was open to relations and strangers, friends and foes; and the poor were comforted in his dwelling. As he was difficult to please, he gave no publicity to his works, and never put the hand of request to the forehead⁵ of loftiness. He cast no admiring glance on himself. Genius as he was, he did not care much for poetry, and did not frequent the society of wits. He was profound in philosophy; what he had read with his eyes was nourishment for the heart. He deeply studied medicine, and gave poor people advice gratis.

The gems of thought in his poems will never be forgotten. Should leisure permit, and my heart turn to worldly occupations, I would collect some of the excellent writings of this unrivalled author of the age, and gather, with the eye of a jealous critic, yet with the hand of a friend, some of his verses.⁶ But now it is brotherly love—a love which does not travel along the road of critical nicety—, that commands me to write down some of his verses.

1. O Thou who existest from eternity and abidest for ever, sight cannot bear Thy light, praise cannot express Thy perfection.

2. Thy light melts the understanding, and Thy glory baffles wisdom; to think of Thee destroys reason, Thy essence confounds thought.

3. Thy holiness pronounces that the blood drops of human meditation are shed in vain in search of Thy knowledge: human understanding is but an atom of dust.

4. Thy jealousy, the guard of Thy door, stuns human thought by a blow in the face, and gives human ignorance a slap on the nape of the neck.

5. Science is like blinding desert sand on the road to Thy perfection; the town of literature is a mere hamlet compared with the world of Thy knowledge.

6. My foot has no power to travel on this path which misleads sages; I have no power to bear the odour of this wine, it confounds my knowledge.

7. The tablet of Thy holiness is too pure for the (black) tricklings of the human pen; the dross of human understanding is unfit to be used as the philosopher's stone.

8. Man's so called foresight and guiding reason wander about bewildered in the streets of the city of Thy glory.

9. Human knowledge and thought combined can only spell the first letter of the alphabet of Thy love.

10. Whatever our tongue can say, and our pen can write, of Thy Being, is all empty sound and deceiving scribble.¹

11. Mere beginners and such as are far advanced in knowledge are both eager for union with Thee; but the beginners are tattlers, and those that are advanced are triflers.

12. Each brain is full of the thought of grasping Thee; the brow of Plato even burned with the fever heat of this hopeless thought.

13. How shall a thoughtless man like me succeed when Thy jealousy strikes down with a fatal blow the thoughts¹ of saints?

14. O that Thy grace would cleanse my brain; for if not, my restlessness (quṭrub)² will end in madness.

15. For him who travels barefooted on the path towards Thy glory, even the mouths of dragons would be as it were a protection for his feet (lit. greaves).³

16. Compared with Thy favour, the nine metals of earth are but as half a handful of dust; compared with the table of Thy mercies, the seven oceans are a bowl of broth.

17. To bow down the head upon the dust of Thy threshold and then to look up, is neither correct in faith, nor permitted by truth.

18. Alas, the stomach of my worldliness takes in impure food like a hungry dog, although Love, the doctor,⁴ bade me abstain from it.

1. O man, thou coin bearing the double stamp of body and spirit, I do not know what thy nature is; for thou art higher than heaven and lower than earth.

2. Do not be cast down, because thou art a mixture of the four elements; do not be self-complacent, because thou art the mirror of the seven realms (the earth).

3. Thy frame contains the image of the heavenly and the lower regions, be either heavenly or earthly, thou art at liberty to choose.

4. Those that veil their faces in Heaven [the angels] love thee; thou, misguiding the wise, art the fondly petted one of the solar system (lit. the seven planets).

5. Be attentive, weigh thy coin, for thou art a correct balance [i. e., thou hast the power of correctly knowing thyself], sift thy atoms well; for thou art the philosopher's stone ().

6. Learn to understand thy value; for the heaven buys (mushtarí¹) thy light, in order to bestow it upon the planets.

7. Do not act against thy reason, for it is a trustworthy counsellor; put not thy heart on illusions, for it (the heart) is a lying fool.

8. Why art thou an enemy to thyself, that from want of perfection thou shouldst weary thy better nature and cherish thy senses (or tongue)?

9. The heart of time sheds its blood on thy account [i. e., the world is dissatisfied with thee]; for in thy hyprocrisy thou art in speech like balm, but in deeds like a lancet.

10. Be ashamed of thy appearance; for thou pridest thyself on the title of ‘sum total,’ and art yet but a marginal note.

11. If such be the charm of thy being, thou hadst better die; for the eye of the world regards thee as an optical illusion (mukarrar).

12. O careless man, why art thou so inattentive to thy loss and thy gain; thou sellest thy good luck and bargainest for misfortunes.

13. If on this hunting-ground thou wouldst but unfold the wing of resolution, thou wouldst be able to catch even the phœnix with sparrow feathers.²

14. Do not be proud (farbih) because thou art the centre of the body of the world. Dost thou not know that people praise a waist (miyán) when it is thin?³

15. Thou oughtest to be ashamed of thyself, when thou seest the doings of such as from zeal wander barefooted on the field of love; since thou ridest upon a swift camel [i. e., as thou hast not yet reached the higher degree of zeal, that is, of walking barefooted], thou shouldst not count thy steps [i. e., thou shouldst not be proud].

16. If thou wishest to understand the secret meaning of the phrase ‘to prefer the welfare of others to thy own,’ treat thyself with poison and others with sugar.

17. Accept misfortune with a joyful look, if thou art in the service of Him whom people serve.

18. Place thy face, with the humble mien of a beggar, upon the threshold of truth, looking with a smile of contempt upon worldly riches;—

19. Not with the (self-complacent) smirk which thou assumest⁴ in private, whilst thy worldliness flies to the east and the west.

20. Guard thine eye well; for like a nimble-handed thief it takes by force the jewel out of the hand of the jeweller.

21. Those who hold in their hand the lamp of guidance often plunder caravans on the high road.

22. My dear son, consider how short the time is that the star of good fortune revolves according to thy wish; fate shews no friendship.

23.¹ There is no one that understands me; for were I understood, I would continually cleave my heart and draw from it the wonderful mirrors of Alexander.

24. My heart is the world, and its Hindústán is initiated in the rites of idolatry and the rules of idol making [i. e., my heart contains wonderful things].

25. This [poem] is the master-piece of the Greece of my mind; read it again and again: its strain is not easy.

26. Plunged into the wisdom of Greece, it [my mind] rose again from the deep in the land of Hind; be thou as if thou hadst fallen into this deep abyss [of my knowledge, i. e., learn from me].

1. The companion of my loneliness is my comprehensive genius; the scratching of my pen is harmony for my ear.

2. If people would withdraw the veil from the face of my knowledge, they would find that what those who are far advanced in knowledge call certainty, is with me (as it were) the faintest dawn of thought.

3. If people would take the screen from the eye of my knowledge, they would find that what is revelation (ecstatic knowledge) for the wise is but drunken madness for me.

4. If I were to bring forth what is in my mind, I wonder whether the spirit of the age could bear it.

5. On account of the regulated condition of my mind, I look upon myself as the system of the universe, and heaven and earth are the result of my motion and my rest.

6. My vessel does not require the wine of the friendship of time; my own blood is the basis of the wine of my enthusiasm [i. e., I require no one's assistance].

7. Why should I wish for the adulation of mean people? My pen bows down its head and performs the sijdah in adoration of my knowledge.

1. Rise and ask, in this auspicious moment, a favour at my throne; in noble aspirations I excel any army.

2. Expect in my arena the victory of both worlds; the banner of royalty weighs down the shoulder of my love.

3. When I cast a favourable glance upon those that sit in the dust, even the ant from my good fortune becomes possessed of the brain of Sulaimán.¹

4. The keepers of my door have their swords drawn; where is the desire that dares intrude on my seclusion?

5. Although I have buried my head in my hood, yet I can see both worlds; it may be that Love has woven my garment from the threads of my contemplation.

6. My eye is open and waits for the manifestation of truth; the spirit of the Universe flees before the insignia of my ecstatic bewilderment.

7. I am the simple Faizí; if you do not believe it, look into my heart through the glass of my external form.

1. The flame from my broken heart rises upwards; to-day a fiery surge rages in my breast.

2. In the beginning of things, each being received the slate of learning [i. e., it is the appointed duty of each to learn something]; but Love has learned something from looking at me, the duties of a handmaid.

3. May the eye of him who betrays a word regarding my broken heart be filled with the blood of his own heart!

4. O Faizí, thou dost not possess what people call gold; but yet the alchemist knows how to extract gold from thy pale cheek.

It were better if I melted my heart, and laid the foundation for a new one: I have too often patiently patched up my torn heart.

1. From the time that love stepped into my heart, nothing has oozed from my veins and my wounds but the beloved.²

2. The wings of angels have melted in the heat of my wine. Woe to the world, if a flash of lightning should some day leap from my jar [i. e., the world would come to an end, if the secret of my love were disclosed]!

1. Two difficulties have befallen me on the path of love: I am accused of bloodshed, but it is the beloved who is the murderer.

2. O travellers on the right road, do not leave me behind! I see far, and my eye espies the resting place.

I walk on a path [the path of love], where every foot step is concealed; I speak in a place where every sigh is concealed.¹

Although life far from thee is an approach to death, yet to stand at a distance is a sign of politeness.

1. In this world there are sweethearts who mix salt with wine, and yet they are intoxicated.

2. The nightingale vainly pretends to be a true lover; the birds on the meadow melt away in love and are yet silent.²

1. My travelling companions say, “O friend, be watchful; for caravans are attacked suddenly.”

2. I answer, “I am not careless, but alas! what help is there against robbers that attack a watchful heart?”

3. A serene countenance and a vacant mind are required, when thou art stricken by fate with stripes from God's hand.³

1. The cupbearers have laid hold of the goblet of clear wine; they made Khizr thirst for this fiery fountain.

2. What wine could it have been that the cupbearer poured into the goblet? Even Masíh and Khizr are envious (of me), and struggle with each other to possess it.¹

Ask not to know the components of the antidote against love: they put fragments of diamonds into a deadly poison.²

For me there is no difference between the ocean (of love) and the shore (of safety); the water of life (love) is for me the same as a dreadful poison.

I, Faizí, have not quite left the caravan of the pilgrims who go to the Ka'bah; indeed, I am a step in advance of them.³

1. How can I complain that my travelling companions have left me behind, since they travel along with Love, the caravan chief?

2. O, that a thousand deserts were full of such unkind friends! They have cleared the howdah of my heart of its burden.⁴

1. I am the man in whose ear melodies attain their perfection, in whose mouth wine obtains its proper temper.

2. I shew no inclination to be beside myself; but what shall I do, I feel annoyed to be myself.

1. Do not ask how lovers have reached the heavens; for they place the foot on the battlement of the heart and leap upwards.

2. Call together all in the universe that are anxious to see a sight: they have erected triumphal arches with my heart-blood in the town of Beauty.

1. Those who have not closed the door on existence and non-existence reap no advantage from the calm of this world and the world to come.

2. Break the spell which guards thy treasures; for men who really know what good luck is have never tied their good fortune with golden chains.¹

The bright sun knows the black drops of my pen, for I have carried my book (bayáz) to the white dawn of morn.²

O Faizí, is there any one in this world that possesses more patience and strength than he who can twice walk down his street?³

Desires are not to be found within my dwelling place: when thou comest, come with a content heart.

Renounce love; for love is an affair which cannot be satisfactorily terminated. Neither fate nor the beloved will ever submit to thy wishes.

1. Come, let us turn towards a pulpit of light, let us lay the foundation of a new Ka'bah with stones from Mount Sinai!

2. The wall (haṭím) of the Ka'bah is broken, and the basis of the qiblah is gone, let us build a faultless fortress on a new foundation!⁴

1. Where is Love, that we might melt the chain of the door of the Ka'bah, in order to make a few idols for the sake of worship.

2. We might throw down this Ka'bah which Hajjáj has erected, in order to raise a foundation for a (Christian) monastery.⁵

1. How long shall I fetter my heart with the coquettishness of beautiful boys? I will burn this heart and make a new, another heart.

2. O Faizí, thy hand is empty, and the way of love lies before thee, then pawn the only thing that is left thee, thy poems, for the sake of obtaining the two worlds.

How can I approve of the blame which certain people attach to Zalíkhá? It would have been well if the backbiting tongues of her slanderers had been cut instead of their hands.¹

I cannot shew ungratefulness to Love. Has he not overwhelmed me with —sadness and sadness?

I cannot understand the juggler trick which love performed: it introduced Thy form through so small an aperture as the pupil of my eye is into the large space of my heart, and yet my heart cannot contain it.

Flee, fate is the raiser of battle-fields; the behaviour of thy companions is in the spirit of (the proverb) ‘hold it (the jug) oblique, but do not spill (the contents).’²

My intention is not to leave my comrades behind. What shall I do with those whose feet are wounded, whilst the caravan travels fast onwards?

This night thou tookst no notice of me, and didst pass by;

Thou receivedst no blessing from my eyes, and didst pass by.

The tears, which would have caused thy hyacinths to bloom,

Thou didst not accept from my moistened eye, but didst pass by.

1. On the field of desire, a man need not fear animals wild or tame: in this path thy misfortunes arise from thyself.

2. O Love, am I permitted to take the banner of thy grandeur from off the shoulder of heaven, and put it on my own?

1. O Faizí, I am so high-minded, that fate finds the arm of my thought leaning against the thigh of the seventh heaven.

2. If other poets [as the ancient Arabians] hung their poems on the door of the temple of Makkah, I will hang my love story on the vault of heaven.

1. O cupbearer Time, cease doing battle! Akbar's glorious reign rolls along, bring me a cup of wine:

2. Not such wine as drives away wisdom, and makes fools of those who command respect, as is done by fate;

3. Nor the harsh wine which fans in the conceited brain the fire of foolhardiness on the field of battle;

4. Nor that shameless wine which cruelly and haughtily delivers reason over to the Turk of passion;

5. Nor that fiery wine the heat of which, as love-drunken eyes well know, melts the bottles [the hearts of men];—

6. But that unmixed wine the hidden power of which makes Fate repent her juggling tricks [i. e., which makes man so strong, that he vanquishes fate];

7. That clear wine with which those who constantly worship in cloisters sanctify the garb of the heart;

8. That illuminating wine which shews lovers of the world the true path;

9. That pearling wine which cleanses the contemplative mind of fanciful thoughts.

In the assembly of the day of resurrection, when past things shall be forgiven, the sins of the Ka'bah will be forgiven for the sake of the dust of Christian churches.¹

1. Behold the garb of Faizí's magnanimity! Angels have mended its hem with pieces of the heaven.

2. The most wonderful thing I have seen is Faizí's heart: it is at once the pearl, the ocean, and the diver.

The look of the beloved has done to Faizí what no mortal enemy would have done.

1. The travellers who go in search of love are on reaching it no longer alive in their howdahs; unless they die, they never reach the shore of this ocean [love].

2. Walk on, Faizí, urge on through this desert the camel of zeal; for those who yearn for their homes [earthly goods] never reach the sacred enclosure, the heart.

The dusty travellers on the road to poverty seem to have attained nothing; is it perhaps because they have found there [in their poverty] a precious jewel?

1. In the beginning of eternity some love-glances formed mirrors, which reduced my heart and my eye to a molten state [i. e., my heart and eye are pure like mirrors].

2. What attractions lie in the curls of idols, that the inhabitants of the two worlds [i. e., many people] have turned their face [from ideal] to terrestrial love?

3. If a heart goes astray from the company of lovers, do not enquire after it; for whatever is taken away from this caravan, has always been brought back, [i. e., the heart for a time did without love, but sooner or later it will come back and love].

It is not patience that keeps back my hand from my collar; but the collar is already so much torn, that you could not tear it more.¹

1. If Lailí² had had no desire to be with Majnún, why did she uselessly ride about on a camel?

2. If any one prevents me from worshipping idols, why does he circumambulate the gates and walls in the Haram [the temple in Makkah]?²

3. Love has robbed Faizí of his patience, his understanding, and his sense; behold, what this highway robber has done to me, the caravan chief!

When Love reaches the emporium of madness, he builds in the desert triumphal arches with the shifting sands.

1. Take the news to the old man of the tavern on the eve of the 'I´d,³ and tell him that I shall settle to-night the wrongs⁴ of the last thirty days.

2. Take Faizí's Díwán to bear witness to the wonderful speeches of a free-thinker who belongs to a thousand sects.

1. I have become dust, but from the odour of my grave, people shall know that man rises from such dust.

2. They may know Faizí's¹ end from his beginning: without an equal he goes from the world, and without an equal he rises.

O Love, do not destroy the Ka'bah; for there the weary travellers of the road sometimes rest for a moment.

He [Akbar] is a king whom, on account of his wisdom, we call zúfunún [possessor of the sciences], and our guide on the path of religion.

Although kings are the shadow of God on earth, he is the emanation of God's light. How then can we call him a shadow?²

He is a king who opens at night the door of bliss, who shows the road at night to those who are in darkness.

Who even once by day beholds his face, sees at night the sun rising in his dream.

If you wish to see the path of guidance as I have done, you will never see it without having seen the king.

Thy old fashioned prostration is of no advantage to thee—see Akbar, and you see God.³

O king, give me at night the lamp of hope, bestow upon my taper the everlasting ray!

Of the light which illuminates the eye of Thy heart,⁴ give me an atom, by the light of the sun!

No friend has ever come from the unseen world; from the caravan of non-existence no voice has ever come.

The heaven is the bell from which the seven metals come, and yet no sound has ever come from it notwithstanding its hammers.¹

In polite society they are silent; in secret conversation they are screened from the public view.

When you come to the thoroughfare of Love, do not raise dust, for there they are all surmahsellers.²

Those are full of the divine who speak joyfully and draw clear wine without goblet and jar.

Do not ask them for the ornaments of science and learning; for they are people who have thrown fire on the book.³

O Faizí, go a few steps beyond thyself, go from thyself to the door, and place thy furniture before the door.⁴

Shut upon thyself the folding door of the eye, and then put on it two hundred locks of eyelashes.

O Faizí, the time of old age has come, look where thou settest thy feet. If thou puttest thy foot away from thy eyelashes, put it carefully.

A pair of glass spectacles avails nothing, nothing. Cut off a piece from thy heart,⁵ and put it on thine eye.

A sigh is a zephyr from the hyacinthbed of speech, and this zephyr has spread a throne for the lord of Speech.

I sit upon this throne as the Sulaimán of speech; hear me speaking the language of birds.⁶

O Lover, whose desolate heart grief will not leave, the fever heat will not leave thy body, as long as the heart remains!

A lover possesses the property of quicksilver, which does not lose its restlessness till it is kushtah.¹

O Faizí, open the ear of the heart and the eye of sense; remove thy eye and ear from worldly affairs.

Behold the wonderful change of time, and close your lip; listen to the enchanter Time and shut thy eye.

What harm can befall me, even if the ranks of my enemies attack me? They only strike a blow to the ocean with a handful of dust.

I am like a naked sword in the hand of fate: he is killed who throws himself on me.

To-day I am at once both clear wine and dreg; I am hell, paradise, and purgatory.

Any thing more wonderful than myself does not exist; for I am at once the ocean, the jewel, and the merchant.

Before I and thou were thought of, our free will was taken from our hands.

Be without cares, for the maker of both worlds settled our affairs long before I and thou were made.

He held the office of a magistrate³ and turned to poetry. He made himself widely known. His manners were simple and pure.

1. My speech is the morning of sincere men; my tongue is the sword of the morning of words.

2. It is clear from my words that the Rúhulquds is the nurse of the Maryam of my hand [composition].¹

3. It is sufficient that my pen has made my meanings fine, a single dot of my pen is my world.

4. In short, words exist in this world of brief duration, and my words are taken from them.

5. No one on the day of resurrection will get hold of my garment except passion, which numbers among those whom I have slain.

When thou goest out to mingle in society at evening, the last ray of the sun lingers on thy door and thy walls, in order to see thee.

1. In the manner of beauty and coquetry, many fine things are to be seen, (as for example) cruel ogling and tyrannical flirting.

2. If I hold up a mirror to this strange idol, his own figure does not appear to his eye as something known to him.²

3. If, for example, thou sittest behind a looking glass, a person standing before it would see his own face with the head turned backwards.³

4. If, for example, an ear of corn was to receive its water according to an agreement made with thee [O miser], no more grain would ever be crushed in the hole of a mill.

1. A sorrow which reminds lovers of the conversation of the beloved, is for them the same as sweet medicine.

2. I exposed the prey of my heart to death, but the huntsman has given me quarter on account of my leanness and let me run away.⁴

3. If lovers slept with the beloved till the morning of resurrection, the morning breeze would cause them to feel the pain of an arrow.⁵

O sober friends, now is the time to tear the collar; but who will raise my hand to my collar?¹

The messenger Desire comes again running, saying² ….

It is incumbent upon lovers to hand over to their hearts those (cruel) words which the beloved (boy) took from his heart and put upon his tongue.

When my foot takes me to the Ka'bah, expect to find me in an idol temple; for my foot goes backwards, and my goal is an illusion.

1. The spheres of the nine heavens cannot contain an atom of the love grief which Sanáí's dust scatters to the winds.

2. Like the sun of the heaven thou livest for all ages; every eye knows thee as well as it knows what sleep is.

He was an enquiring man of a philosophical turn of mind, and well acquainted with ancient poetry and chronology. He was free and easy and goodhearted; friendliness was stamped upon his forehead.³

1. I search my heart all round to look for a quiet place—and, gracious God! if I do not find sorrow, I find desires.

2. Zalíkhá stood on the flowerbed, and yet she said in her grief that it reminded her of the prison in which a certain ornament of society [Yúsuf] dwelled.

3. I am in despair on thy account, and yet what shall I do with love? for between me and it (love) stands (unfulfilled) desire.

Gabriel's wing would droop, if he had to fly along the road of love; this message (love) does not travel as if on a zephyr.

Whether a man be an Ayáz or a Mahmúd, here (in love) he is a slave; for love ties with the same string the foot of the slave and the freeman.⁴

1. Last night my moist eye caught fire from the warmth of my heart; the lamp of my heart was burning until morning, to shew you the way to me.

2. The power of thy beauty became perfectly known to me, when its fire fell on my heart and consumed me unknown to myself.

O Huzní, I sometimes smile at thy simplicity: thou hast become a lover, and yet expectest faithfulness from the beloved.

Don't cast loving eyes at me; for I am a withered feeble plant, which cannot bear the full radiance of the life-consuming sun [of thy beauty].

Alas! when I throw myself on the fire, the obstinate beloved has nothing else to say but “Huzní, what is smoke like?”

I hear, Huzní, that thou art anxious to be freed from love's fetters. Heartless wretch, be off; what dost thou know of the value of such a captivity!

To-day, like every other day, the simple minded Huzní was content with thy false promises, and had to go.

He is known as Miyán Kálí. He knew something of the ordinary sciences, and lived quiet and content. He rarely mixed with people in high position. On account of his generous disposition, a few low men had gathered round him, for which reason well meaning people who did not know the circumstances, often upbraided him. Partly from his own love of independence, partly from the indulgence of his Majesty, he counted himself among the disciples, and often foretold future events.

A low minded man must be he who can lift up his hand in prayer to God's throne for terrestrial goods.

If lovers counted the hours spent in silent grief, their lives would appear to them longer than that of Khizr.¹

Wherever thou goest, I follow thee like a shadow; perhaps, in course of time, thou wilt by degrees cast a kind glance at me.²

1. When I saw even elephants attached to my beloved, I spent the coin of my life on the road of the elephant.

2. Wherever I go, I throw like the elephant dust on my head, unless I see my guide above my head.

3. The elephant taming king is Jaláluddín Muhammad Akbar, he who bestows golden elephants upon his poets.

1. O friend, whose tongue speaks of knowledge divine, and whose heart ever withdraws the veil from the light of truth,

2. Never cherish a thought of which thou oughtest to be ashamed, never utter a word, for which thou wouldst have to ask God's pardon!

He was unrivalled in depth of understanding and sweetness of language, and was well acquainted with the noble thoughts of the Çúfís.

I heard a noise and started from a deep sleep, and stared—the awful night had not yet passed away—I fell again asleep.²

Beauty leads to fame, and love to wretchedness. Why then do you speak of the cruelties of the sweetheart and the faults of the miserable lover?

Since either acceptance or exclusion awaits all in the world to come, take care not to blame any one; for this is blameworthy.

1. O Ghazálí, I shun a friend who pronounces my actions to be good, though they are bad.

2. I like a simple friend, who holds my faults like a looking-glass before my face.

1. In love no rank, no reputation, no science, no wisdom, no genealogical tree is required.

2. For such a thing as love is a man must possess something peculiar: the sweeth eart is jealous,—he must possess decorum.

1. The king says, “My cash is my treasure.” The Çúfí says, “My tattered garment is my woollen stuff.”

2. The lover says, “My grief is my old friend.” I and my heart alone know what is within my breast.

1. If thy heart, whilst in the Ka'bah, wanders after something else, thy worship is wicked, and the Ka'bah is lowered to a cloister.

2. And if thy heart rests in God, whilst thou art in a tavern, thou mayest drink wine, and yet be blessed in the life to come.

The forehead of his diction shines with decorum, and possesses a peculiar grace. Self-admiration led him to vanity, and made him speak lightly of the older classics. The bud of his merits withered away before it could develop itself.

Cling to the hem of a heart which saddens at the plaintive voice of the nightingale; for that heart knows something.

If some one cast a doubt on the loftiness of the cypress, I melt away from envy; for loftiness is so desirable that even a doubtful mention of it creates envy.

He who is intimate with the morning zephyr, knows that the scent of the Jasmin remains notwithstanding the appearance of chill autumn.

My wounded heart cannot endure a healing balm; my turban's fold cannot endure the shadow of a blooming rose.

1. It is incumbent on me, when in society, to talk low; for the sensible people in society are stupid, and I speak but Arabic.

2. Remain within the boundary of thy ignorance, unless you be a Plato; an intermediate position is mirage and raving thirst.

Do not say that those who sing of love are silent: their song is too fine, and the audience have cotton in their ears.

The more I exert myself, the more I come into trouble; if I am calm, the ocean's centre is at the shore.

There is some hope that people will pardon the strange ways of 'Urfí for the homeliness of his well known poems.

No one has yet come into the world that can bear the grief of love; for every one has through love lost the colour of his face and turned pale.

O 'Urfí, live with good and wicked men in such a manner, that Muhammadans may wash thee (after thy death) in Zamzam water, and Hindús may burn thee.

If thou wishest to see thy faults clearly, lie for a moment in ambush for thyself, as if thou didst not know thee.

'Urfí has done well to stand quietly before a closed door, which no one would open. He did not knock at another door.

To pine for the arrival of young spring shews narrowness of mind in me; for there are hundreds of pleasures on the heap of rubbish in the backyard, which are not met with in a rose garden.

My heart is sinking as the colour on Zalíkhá's cheek when she saw herself alone; and my grief has become the talk of the market like the suspicion cast on Yúsuf.

1. On the day when all shall give an account of their deeds, and when the virtues of both Shaikh and Bráhman shall be scrutinized,

2. Not a grain shall be taken of that which thou hast reaped, but a harvest shall be demanded of that which thou hast not sown.

1. O thou who hast experienced happiness and trouble from good and bad events, and who art in consequence full of thanks and sometimes full of complaints,

2. Do not take high ground, so that thy efforts may not be in vain; be rather (yielding) like grass that stands in the way of the wind, or like a bundle of grass which others carry off on their shoulders.

1. O 'Urfí, for what reason is thy heart so joyful? Is it for the few verses which thou hast left behind?

2. Alas! thou losest even that which thou leavest behind as something once belonging to thee. Thou oughtest to have taken it with thee; but hast thou taken it with thee?

His name was Mírzá Qulí.¹ He was of Turkish extraction, and lived in the society of gay people.

Since I have become famous through thy love, I shun all whom I see; for I am afraid lest my going to any one might put thee into his thoughts.

I die and feel pity for such as remain alive; for thou art accustomed to commit such cruelties as thou hast done to me.

1. My heart derived so much pleasure from seeing thee, that fate—God forbid, that it should think of revenge.

2. Thou art neither a friend nor a stranger to me; what name is man to give to such a relation?

Thou knowest that love to thee does not pass away with the lives of thy lovers; for thou passest by the tombs of those whom thy love slew, and yet thou behavest coquettishly.

When thou biddest me go, cast one glance upon me; for from carefulness people tie a string round the foot of a bird, even if it were so tame as to eat from the hand.

My last breath is at hand! O enemy, let me have him [the lovely boy] but for a moment, so that with thousands of pangs I may restore him to thee.

1. I promised myself that I would be patient, and did not go to him [the boy]; I had hopes to be content with loneliness.

2. But the woe of separation kills me, and whispers every moment to me, “This is the punishment of him who puts confidence in his patience.”

1. Thy clients have no cause to ask thee for anything; for every one of them has from a beggar become a Crœsus in wealth.

2. But thou findest such a pleasure in granting the prayers of beggars, that they make requests to thee by way of flattery.

He is a man of profound thought, has learnt a good deal, and describes very well the events of past ages. As accountant he is unrivalled. From his knowledge of human nature he leans to mirth and is fond of jokes. He was so fortunate as to obtain the title of A´çaf Khán, and was admitted as a disciple of his Majesty.¹

I am jealous of the zephyr, but I gladden my heart with the thought that this is a rose garden, and no one can close the door in the face of the wind.

When the town could not contain the sorrows of my heart, I thought that the open country was created for my heart.

I am prepared for another interview to-night; for I have patched up my torn, torn heart.

It is the fault of my love that he [the lovely boy] is my enemy. What is love worth, if it makes no impression?

I admire the insight of my heart for its familiarity with beauties whose ways are so strange.

He came and made me confused; but he did not remain long enough for me to introduce my heart to consolation.

As I am entirely at fault, do not threaten me with revenge; for the pleasure of taking revenge on thee makes me bid my fault defiance.

1. Dost thou shew me thy face so boldly, Happiness? Wait a moment, that I may announce my love-grief.

2. Ja'far came to-day so broken-hearted to thy house, that the hearts of the stones burnt on seeing his extraordinary condition.

1. Whoever has been in thy company is for a night, is the companion of my sad fate.

2. Ja'far has found the road to the street of the sweetheart so difficult, that he can no more rise to his feet.

The morning zephyr, I think, wafts to me the scent of a certain sweetheart, because Jacob keeps his closed eye turned towards a caravan.¹

A new rose must have opened out in the garden; for last night the nightingale did not go asleep till the morning.

He possessed many excellent qualities, and sold his encomiums at a high price. He lived at the Court of Humáyún, and was also during this reign highly favoured.

1. The realms of speech are in my possession, the banker of speech is the jeweller of my pearl strings.

2. Creation's preface is a sheet of my book, the secrets of both worlds are in the nib of my pen.

A stream from the ocean of thought passes by his house; correctness and equity are visible on his forehead. Serenity and truth are in him united; he is free from the bad qualities of poets.

1. Whenever you speak, watch yourself; repentance follows every word which gladdens no heart.

2. You do not require the swift wing of a bird; but since fortune is so, borrow the foot of the ant and flee.

A love sick man is so entangled in his grief, that even the wish of getting rid of it does him harm.

Whatever you see is, in some way or other, a highway robber. I know no man that has not been way-laid.

1. This is the thoroughfare of love, it is no open market; keep your lips closed, no talk is required.

2. I, too, have been among the heathens, but have seen no waist worthy of the sacred thread.

3. Covetous people are, from covetousness, each other's enemies; in friendship alone there are no rivals.

1. Let every thorn which people sow in thy road, bloom in the lustre of thy smiles.

2. Say nothing, and heal the wound of the heart with poisoned arrows.

1. My love makes me delay over everything, even if it were a scent in the house, or a colour in the bazar.

2. Thou knowest what people call me—‘mad from shame, and dejected from baseness.’

Since everything which I mended has broken again, my heart has gone altogether from trying to patch it.

1. I suffer thy cruelties and die; perhaps I thus complete my faithfulness.

2. Thou canst not deprive me of the means of union with thee, unless thou shuttest the zephyr in a box.¹

This turf and this field have a tinge of madness; insanity and drunkenness have to-day a good omen.

1. Love-grief is followed by an increase of sorrow, the desire to meet him is followed by bloody tears.

2. Neither the one nor the other, however, is the means of attaining love's perfection; be sound in mind, or else, completely mad.

1. I am neither as high as the Pleiades, nor as low as the abyss; I neither cherish the old grief, nor do I possess a new thought.

2. If I am not the wailing nightingale, there is yet this excellence left, I am the moth and am pledged to the flame.¹

1. I am the heart-grief of my dark nights, I am the misfortune of the day of my fate.

2. Perhaps I may go a step back to myself; it is a long time that I have been waiting for myself.

He possesses taste and writes well. He is acquainted with chronology and the ordinary sciences; and the purity of his nature led him to philosophical independence.²

I have lived through nights of lonely sorrow, and am still alive; I had no idea of the tenaciousness of my life.

Grief, not mirth, is my ware. Why dost thou wish to know its price? I know that thou wilt not buy it, and that I shall not sell it.

On account of the jealousy of the watcher I had resolved to stay away from thy feast. I was deceived by my bad luck and called it jealousy, and stayed away.

O God, bestow upon my wares a market from the unseen world! I would sell my heart for a single interview; vouchsafe a buyer!

Thou art warm with my love; and in order to keep off bad omens, I sit over the fire, and burn myself as wild rue.¹

I uprooted my heart from my being, but the burden of my heart did not leave my being. I severed my head from my body, but my shoulders did not leave my collar.

1. To-day, when the cup of union with thee is full to the brim, I see Neglect sharpen the sword, in order to kill me.

2. Thou dost not dwell in my heart and hast girded thy loins with hatred towards me,—ruin upon the house which raises enemies!

1. The plaintive song of my bird [heart] turns the cage to a rosebed; the sigh of the heart in which thou art, turns to a rosebed.

2. When thy beauty shines forth, covetousness also is love; straw, when going up in flames, turns to a rosebed.

1. Happy are we if we come to thee, through thee; like blind men we search for thee, through thee.

2. Increase thy cruelties till the tenaciousness of my life takes revenge on me, and thy cold heart on thee.

1. The world is a game, the winning of which is a loss; playing cleverly consists in being satisfied with a low throw.

2. This earthly life is like a couple of dice—you take them up, in order to throw them down again.

His real name is Yol Qulí. He is a man of a happy heart and of pure manners; he is brave and sincere.

In seeking after thee, a condition is put upon us miserable lovers, viz. that our feet remain unacquainted with the hems of our garments.²

It is possible to travel along this road, even when one lightning only flashes. We blind lovers are looking for the ray of thy lamp.

If I remain restless even after my death, it is no wonder; for toil undergone during the day makes the sleep of the night restless.

1. How can the thought of thy love end with my death? for love is not like wine, which flows from the vessel when it is broken.

2. The lover would not snatch his life from the hand of death, though he could. Why should the owner of the harvest take the grain from the ant?

1. The rosebed of time does not contain a songster like me, and yet it is from the corner of my cage that I have continually to sing.

2. In order satisfactorily to settle my fortune, I spent a life in hard work; but with all my mastership I have not been able to draw silk from reeds.

The nature of love resembles that of the magnet; for love first attracts the shaft, in order to wound the heart when it wishes to get rid of the point.

May God preserve all men from falling into my circumstances! for my sufferings keep the rose from smiling and the nightingale from singing.

Love has disposed of me, but I do not yet know who the buyer is, and what the price is.

Anísí drinks the blood of his heart, and yet the vessel is never empty; it seems as if, at the banquet of love's grief, the red wine rises from the bottom of the goblet.

1. I am intoxicated with love, do not bring me wine; throw me into the fire, do not bring me water.

2. Whether I complain or utter reproaches, I address him alone, do not answer me.

1. I went away, in order to walk a few steps on the path of destruction, and to tear a few ties that bind me to existence.

2. I will spend a few days without companions, and will pass a few nights without a lamp till morning make its appearance.

1. O heart, beware! O heart, beware! Thus should it be: the hand of asking ought to be within the sleeve.¹

2. O that I could but once catch a certain object! the hunter is for ever in the ambush.

He possesses poetical talent, and the garden of thought has a door open for him. Outwardly he is a good man; but he also devises plans for the architecture of the heart.

Every place, whether nice or not, appears pleasant to me: I either rejoice in my sweetheart, and grieve for him.

If thou destroyest the ware of my heart, thy loss is for once; whilst to me it would be the loss of world and faith.

If thou wilt not put my cage below the rose tree, put it in a place where the meadow hears my plaint.

It is from kindness that he [the beautiful boy] favours me, not from love; I can distinguish between friendship and politeness.

It is a generation that I have been girding my waist in thy service, and what am I worth? I must have become a Brahman, so often have I put on the badge (the thread).

Thy blood is worth nothing, Nazírí, be silent! Suffice it that he who slew thee, has no claim against thee.

I am costly and there are no buyers; I am a loss to myself, and am yet the ornament of the bazar.

The impression which my sorrow makes upon him, consists in depriving his heart of all sympathy; and the peculiar consequence of my reminding him of my love is that he forgets it.

Like a watch-dog I lie at his threshold; but I gnaw the whole night at my collar, and think of chasing him, not of watching him.

1. From carelessness of thought I transformed a heart, by the purity of which the Ka'bah swore, into a Firingí church.

2. The simoom of the field of love possesses so inebriating a power, that the lame wanderer thinks it sublime transport to travel on such a road.

3. The ship of love alone is a true resting place; step out of it, and thou art surrounded by the stormy sea and its monsters.

4. Tell me which song makes the greatest impression on thy heart, so that I may utter my plaint in the same melody.

He is of Turkish extraction and belongs to the Bayát tribe. The prophet Khizr appeared to him, and a divine light filled him. He renounced the world and became a water-carrier.

1. I have broken the foundation of austerity, to see what would come of it; I have been sitting in the bazar of ignominy [love], to see what would come of it.

2. I have wickedly spent a lifetime in the street of the hermits; now I am a profligate, a wine-bibber, a drunkard, to see what will come of it.

3. People have sometimes counted me among the pious, sometimes among the licentious; whatever they call me I am, to see what will come of it.

His name is Shaikh Ya'qúb. He is well acquainted with all branches of poetry and with various sciences. He knows well the excellent writings of Ibn 'Arab, has travelled a good deal, and has thus become acquainted with many saints. He obtained higher knowledge under Shaikh Husain of Khwárazm, and received from him permission to guide others.

He stole from my heart all patience, and then took the whole mad heart itself; my thief stole the house with its whole furniture.

The weakness of the body has brought the love-sick man into a strange position: from weakness he can no longer bear the weight of recovery.

He was born in Kábul. Once he slept in the bedroom of Amír Khusrau, when the shining figure of an old man with a staff in his hand awoke him and ordered him to compose a poem. As he had no power of doing so, he took the whole for a vision, and lay down in another place; but the same figure woke him up, and repeated the order. The first verse that he uttered is the following—

When I am far from thee, my tears turn gradually into an ocean. Come and see, enter the ship of my eye and make a trip on the ocean.²

My sweetheart saw the scroll of my faith, and burnt my sad heart, so that no one afterwards might read its contents.³

1. I have no need to explain him my condition; for my heart, if really burning, will leave a trace behind.

2. Weakness has overpowered me, and my heart has sunk under its sorrow. Who shall now inform him of my wretched state?

I went to his street, and whilst I was there, a thorn entered deep into the foot of my heart. Thanks be to God that I have now a reason for staying in it!

1. Hindústán is a field of sugar-cane, its parrots are sugar-sellers.

2. Its flies are like the darlings of the country, wearing the chírah and the ṭakauchiah.²

His name is Muhammad Mírak. He traces his descent from Nizám ulmulk of Ṭús.

Men without feeling tell me to use my hand and catch hold of his garment. If I had a hand [i. e. if I had the opportunity], I would tear my collar to pieces.

There are many reasons why I should be dead, and yet I am alive. O grief! thy forbearance has made me quite ashamed of myself.

I told him [the beautiful boy] my grief, he paid no heed. Oh, did you ever see such misery! I wept, he laughed—Oh, did you ever see such contempt!

My life is in his hand. It is quite clear, Çálih, that even the falcon Death sits tame on his hand.

He made poems from his early youth, and lived long in 'Iráq. From living ṭogether with good people, he acquired excellent habits.

1. I cannot understand the secret of Salmá's beauty; for the more you behold it, the greater becomes your desire.

2. What friendly look lay in Lailí's eyes, that Majnún shut his eyes to friends and strangers?

I admire the looking-glass which reflects my sweetheart standing on a flower-bed,² although he is inside his house.

The good fortune of thy beauty has caused thy affairs to prosper; else thou wouldst not have known how to manage matters successfully.

1. Like a tail I follow my own selfish heart. Though the road is not bad, I make myself footsore.

2. Though I break through a hundred screens, I cannot step out of myself; I wander over a hundred stages, and am still at the old place.

I am a tulip of Sinai, and not like the stem-born flower. I cast flames over the slit of my collar instead of hemming it.³

He of whom my eye makes light, appears to heaven dull and heavy.

His name is Mughís. He tries to change the four mud walls of this worldly life into stone walls, and is intoxicated with the scent of freedom.

1. Once I did not know burning sorrow, I did not know the sighs of a sad heart.

2. Love has now left neither name nor trace of me—I never thought, Love, that thou art so.

1. You said that my condition was low from love-grief. A cup! bring me a cup! for my heart is stagnant.

2. Be ashamed of thyself, be ashamed! Which is the cup and which is the wine that has inebriated the nightingale?

1. O Mahwí, beckon to a friend, and ring the bell of the carawan.

2. The stage is yet far and the night is near. O thou who hast fettered thy own foot, lift up thy foot and proceed!

1. A single lover requires hundreds of experiences, hundreds of wisdoms, and hundreds of understandings.

2. Thy luck is excellent, go away: love is a place where misery is required.

1. O Mahwí, do not sing a song of the passion of thy heart, do not knock at the door of a single house in the street.

2. Thou hast seen this strange world, beware of speaking of a friend.

He is poor and has few wants, and lives content with his indigence.

My dealer in roses wishes to take his roses to the bazar, but he ought first to learn to bear the noisy crowd of the buyers.

I am shut out from the road that leads to the Ka'bah, else I would gladly wound the sole of my feet with the thorns of its acacias.²

I have no eye for the world, should it even lie before my feet; he who takes care of the end, looks behind himself.

That which I desire³ is too high to be obtained by stooping down. O that I could find myself lying before my own feet!

His name is Núruddín. He is a man of keen understanding and of lofty thoughts. A curious monomania seized him: he looked upon his elder brother, the doctor Abulfath, as the personification of the world, and the doctor Humám as the man who represents the life to come, for which reason he kept aloof from them.

The longer the grief of separation lasts, the gladder I am; for like a stranger I can again and again make his acquaintance.

I doubt Death's power; but an arrow from thy eye has pierced me, and it is this arrow alone that will kill me, even if I were to live another hundred years.

He [the beautiful boy] must have been last night away from home; for I looked at his door and the walls of his house, but had no pleasure from looking.

If in that hour, when I tear the hood of my life, I should get hold, what God forbid, of Thy collar, I would tear it to pieces.

I envy the fate of those who, on the last day, enter hell; for they sit patiently within the fire.¹

My madness and ecstacy do not arise from nightly wine; the burning of divine love is to be found in no house.

1. O heart! when I am in love, do not vex me with the jealousy of the watchman; thou hast made me lose my faith [Islám], do not speak ill of my Brahmanical thread.²

2. To be far from the bliss of non-existence seems death to him who has experienced the troubles of existence. O Lord! do not wake me up on the day of resurrection from the sleep of non-existence.

1. If the love of my heart should meet with a buyer, I would do something openly.

2. I have spread the carpet of abstinence in such a manner that every thread of the texture ends in a thousand Brahmanical threads.

1. The drinking of my heart-blood has surfeited me; like my sweetheart, I have become an enemy to myself.

2. I have killed myself and, from excessive love to him, have cast the crime on my own shoulders.¹

He possesses harmony of thought; but his mind is unsettled, and he lives a disorderly life.

I am the nightingale of thy flower-bed. I swear by the pleasure of thy society that the rose has passed away, and I do not know where the garden is.

1. May all hearts rest peacefully in the black night of thy curls, when I, the miserable, wander restless from thy street!

2. I have knocked at the door of the seventy-two sects of Islám, and have come to the door of despair, hopeless of getting help from heathen and Musulmán.

3. I had come from the land of faithfulness: what wonder, if I vanish from the dear memory of the [faithless] fair?

1. I have consumed my sober heart on the rubbish-heap of passion; I have burnt the Ka'bah's candle at the idol temple's gate.

2. The flower-bed of a certain beloved has not wafted to me the fragrance of fulfilled desires, and hopelessly do I consume myself in my dismal corner.

3. No one has ever said the word ‘friend’ to me, not even by mistake, though I consume myself before acquaintances and strangers.¹

1. O heart, what portion of his wine-coloured lip dost thou keep in thy flagon, that thy inside is full of sighs and thy neck full of sobs.²

2. Love has thrown me into oceans of bloody tears; go, go away, that for once thou mayest reach the banks of the stream.

I have given thee permission to shed my blood without retaliation. I have said so, and give it thee black on white, and stamped with my seal.

Sometimes I am drowned in floods, sometimes burning in flames. Let no one build a house in my street!

In the name of God, let us go, if you belong to my travelling companions. This caravan³ has no bell to sound the hour of starting.

In a realm where the word ‘faithfulness’ produces tears, the messenger and the letter he brings⁴ produce each separately tears.

1. Is the killing of a man like me worth a single sign of anger and hatred? Is shedding my blood worth the bending of thy arm [pr. thy sleeve]?

2. If thou art resolved to break my heart, is it worth thy while to illtreat thy lovers?

He is in affluent circumstances, but from virtuous motives he mixes little with the world. He seeks retirement by travelling about.

Look upon me, when standing below the revolving roof of the heavens, as a lamp concealed under a cover.

1. O heart, thy road is not without thorns and caltrops, nor dost thou walk on the wheel of good fortune.

2. If it be possible, pull the skin from the body, and see whether thy burden will be a little lighter.

1. You asked me, “How are you, Muhammad, after falling in love with him?—long may you live!” “I stand,” said I, “below the heaven as a murderer under the gibbet.”

His name is Sayyid 'Alí, and he is the son of Mír Mançúr. He was born and educated in Tabríz, and attained, under the care of his Majesty, the greatest perfection in the art of painting.

The beauty of idols is the Ka'bah to which I travel; love is the desert, and the obstinacy of the worthless watchers³ the acacia thorns.

I am a prey half-killed and stretched on the ground, far from the street of my beloved. I stagger along, tumbling down and rising up again, till I come near enough to catch a glimpse of him.

In the morning, the thorn boasts of having been together with the rose, and drives a nail through the broken heart of the nightingale.

His name is Sharíf.

Love and the lover have in reality the same object in view. Do not believe that I lose by giving thee my life.

1. I do not care for health.² O Lord, let sorrow be my lot, a sorrow which deprives my heart of every hope of recovery!

2. I am smitten by the eye which looks so coquettishly at me, that it raises, openly and secretly, a hundred wishes in my heart.

He is a relation of [the poet] Mírzá Qásim of Gúnábád, [or Junábád, or Junábíd, in Khurásán]. He writes Shikastah well, and is a good hand at shooting with the bow and the matchlock.

If the dust of my body were mixed with that of others, you would recognize my ashes by their odour of love.

Thy coming has shed a lustre on the ground, and its dust atoms serve as surmah for my eyes.

The lions of the Haram should not stain their paws with my blood. O friend, give the dogs of the Christian monastery this food as a treat.

What do I care for comfort! I think myself happy in my misery; for the word ‘rest’ is not used in the language of this realm [love].

He traces his descent from Zainuddín Kháfí. He pretended to be a Çúfí.

No one has, in thy love, been more brought up to sorrow than I; and that thou knowest not my sorrow is a new sorrow.

I took to travelling in order to allay my grief, not knowing that my road would pass over hundred mountains of grief.

He possesses sparks of taste. He had been for some time wandering in the desert of retirement, but has now put the mantle of worldliness on his shoulders.³

I do not call him a buyer who only wishes to buy a Yúsuf. Let a man buy what he does not require!⁴

Knock at night at the door of the heart; for when it dawns, the doors are opened, and the door of the heart is closed.

I am secure from the dangers of life: no one deprives the street-beggar of his bareness.

1. The dart of fate comes from the other side of the armour;¹ why should I uselessly put on an armour?

2. Flash of death, strike first at me! I am no grain that brings an ear to the harvest.

Joy and youth are like the fragrance of the rose that chooses the zephyr as a companion.

He belongs to the Arabians of the Jazáir. He has acquired some knowledge.

1. I became a cloak to ruin, Sáqí, and like the Ka'bah, a place of belief and heresy.

2. I have found no trace of love, much as I have travelled among the hearts of the infidels and the faithful.

My heart is still ardent with love, and thou art still indifferent. O sweetheart, speak, before I openly express myself.

His name is Haidar. He is well acquainted with the ars poetica, and is distinguished as a writer of riddles and táríkhs.

My heart is sensitive, you cruel one; what remedy is there for me? Although a lover, I have the temper of the beloved—what can I do?

1. A recluse does not sin [love] and calls thee a tyrant; I am plunged into crime [love], and think that thou art forgiving.

2. He calls thee a tyrant, I call thee forgiving; choose whatever name pleases thee most.

His diction is good, and he knows the history of the past.

I am smitten by the eyelash of my murderer, who has shed my blood without letting a drop fall to the ground.²

The present age asks God for a mischief-maker like thee, who makes the days of the wretched bitterer.³

I am free from worldliness; for my aspirations do no longer lean against the wall of confidence.

I am smitten by the fearless glance of a Christian youth, for whose sake God will pardon, on the day of resurrection, the slaughter of a hundred Musalmáns.

Even death mourns for those who are killed by the grief of separation from thee.

The street of the sweet boy is a beautiful land; for there even heaven's envy is changed to love.

I saw the heart of another full of grief, and I became jealous; for there is but one cruel tyrant in these regions.¹

His name is Yádgar. He is a selfish man.

Leave me to my grief! I find rest in my grief for him. I die, if the thought of the possibility of a cure enters my heart.

When my eye caught a glimpse of him, my lips quivered and closed. Oh that life remained but a moment within me!

To whatever side I turn in the night of separation, my heart feels pierced by the thought of the arrow of his eyelash.

He is the son of Mír Haidar, the riddle-writer. He has a taste for poetry, and lives in good circumstances.

I came from the monastery of the Guebres, and wear, from shame on account of improprieties, a sacred thread twisted round my waist, and a wailing gong under my arm.¹

I am jealous, and I shall die from the aggressions of fickle lovers. I am a fresh plant, but shall die from the heap of rubbish about me.

I, too, have at last perished in the century of thy love. Alas! none is now left of Majnún's tribe.²

Sorrows rush from every side on my heart without first knocking at the door. I cannot help it: my house lies on the highway.

His name is Pádisháh Qulí, and he is the son of Sháh Qulí Khán Náranjí of Kurdistán, near Baghdád.

See how extremely jealous I am. My bewilderment leaves me, if any one alludes to him [the beautiful boy] whose memory causes my bewilderment.

1. Sometimes I break my vow of repentance and sometimes the wine-bottle; once, twice, incessantly, I break my plaintive flute [my heart].

2. O Lord, deliver my heart from these bad practices! How often shall I repent and again break my vow of repentance!

His mind, from his youth, was unsettled. He belongs to the sect of the Mahmúdís; but I know nothing of his origin, nor of his present condition. The Masnawí entitled ‘Zarrah o Khurshíd,’ ‘the Atom and the Sun,’ is written by him.

Dust of the grave-yard, rise for once to joy! Thou enclosest a corpse like mine, slain by his hand and his dagger.

Dress in whatever colour thou wilt: I recognize thee when thy figure shines forth.

Pass some day by the bazar of the victims of thy love, and behold the retribution that awaits thee; for there they buy up every one of thy crimes at the price of a hundred meritorious actions.¹

O thou that takest the loaf of the sun from this warm oven, thou hast not given Tashbíhí a breakfast, and he asks thee for an evening meal.¹

1. I am that Tashbíhí who, from foresight, chooses to dwell in a grave-yard.

2. I like to dwell in a grave-yard, because dwelling in a grave-yard lies before our sight.

The hands of this world and of the world to come are empty. With me is the ring!—all other hands are empty.²

He is a Ṭabáṭibá Sayyid, and is a poet of some talent.

Those who are slain by thee lie everywhere inebriated on the ground: perhaps the water of thy steel was wine.

My body melts in the fire of my madness, when he [the lovely boy] is away; and if you should hang an iron chain to my neck, it would flow (molten) to my feet.

Whenever I have to bear the pang of separation from my beloved, no one bears with me but death.

Ashkí, I think, my tears have turned watchers; for whenever I think of him, they rush into my face.¹

His name is Amír Qází. He is a man of education.

The messenger was a watcher in disguise, and I did not see his cunning. The cruel wretch succeeded in putting his contrivance between us.

I have pardoned my murderer, because he did not take his hand away from me; for as long as life was left within me, his murderous hands were properly employed.

His love has so completely filled my breast, that you can hear him breathe in my breath.

Give him no wine who feels no higher pleasure in the juice of grapes; do not even give him water when he lies as dust before the door of the tavern.

I have no patience when in love, and have lost in reputation. Tell reputation to go, I cannot be patient.

He spent some time in the acquisition of such sciences as are usually studied; but he thinks much of himself.

As thou hast never gone from my heart, I wonder how thou couldst have found a place in the hearts of all others.

1. Thou drovest me away, and I came back, not from jealousy, but because I wish to confess that I feel ashamed of my love having had jealousy as a companion.

2. My tears derive a lustre from the laughter of cruel wretches; else a wound inflicted by thee could never produce such bloody tears.

A lover may have many reasons to complain; but it is better not to unburden the heart before the day of judgment.

If I desire to accuse thee of shedding, in every look, hundred torrents of lover's blood, my lot, though hostile enough, would be ready to be my witness.

I am gone, my reason is gone! I want a flash of madness to strike my soul, so as to keep it burning [with love] till the day of judgment.

1. Last night union [with the sweet boy] raised her lovely form before me, and the gloomy desert of my heart shone forth in raptures.

2. But the bat had no power to gaze at the sun; else the sun would have revealed what is now behind the screen.

His name is Amír Beg. He was a good painter.

Where is the wine of love given to wretches without feeling? Loving idols is a drunkenness; let men be careful whom to give it!

O God! I cannot reach the world of the ideal; forgive me if I worship form.²

His mind is somewhat unsettled.

If I knew that tears could make an impression, I would altogether turn to blood and trickle from the eye.

Whether I see him [the beautiful boy] or not, my heart is in raptures. Have you ever seen such a sight?

I wished I could like a breeze pass away from this base world. This is not the street of the sweetheart, from which one cannot pass away.

My blood dances from mirth in my vein like a flame: the look he gave me commences to work, and my heart is effectually wounded.

His name is 'Abdussalám. He is of Arabian extraction, and has acquired some knowledge; but he is not clear to himself.

Fortune cheats in play, loses, and takes back what she paid. One cannot play with a companion that is up to such tricks.

1. How long do you file down your words and polish them; how long do you shoot random arrows at the target?

2. If you would take one lesson in the science of silence, you would laugh loud at your silly conversation.

1. I keep a thousand thunderbolts concealed below my lip. Go away, go away, take care not to put your finger on my lip.

2. I have come to the public square of the world, but I think it were better if my Yúsuf were yet in the pit than in the bazar.¹

Patience, in order to console me, has again put me off with new subterfuges, and has stitched up the book of my happiness the wrong way.

1. My heart has overcome the grief of separation, and has gone from this land; it has tucked the hem up to the waist and has gone.

2. My heart saw among the companions no trace of faithfulness; hence it smiled hundred times by way of friendship and went away.

He is a cloth-weaver from Harát. He generally composes Rubá'ís.

1. On the day when the lover kindled the fire of love, he learnt from his beloved what burning grief is.

2. This burning and melting has its origin in the beloved; for the moth does not burn till it reaches the candle.

1. On the day of judgment, when nothing remains of the world but the tale, the first sign of Eternity's spring will appear:

2. The beloved will raise like plants their heads from the dust, and I, too, shall raise my head in courtship.³

I am utterly ashamed of the dogs of thy street; for they have made friendship with a man like me.

I am in misery; and you would know the sadness of my lot, if you were in stead of me to suffer for one night the grief of being separated from him [the beautiful boy].

Who am I that thou shouldst be my enemy, and shouldst care for my being or not being?

He is a merchant and a poet; he works hard and spends his gains liberally.

Shew no one my black book of sorrows; let no one know my crimes [love].

O Haidarí, try, like the virtuous, to attain some perfection in this world of sorrow; for to leave this world deficient in anything, is like leaving the bath in a dirty state.

He is the son of the preceding. His versification is good.

My disgrace has made me famous, and my shame [love] has rendered me well-known; perplexed I ask myself why I remain concealed.

The farmers have committed their seeds to the field, and now hope to receive aid from the flood of my tears.

His name is Shápúr. He is a good man, but is in bad circumstances. If he is diligent, he may become a good poet.

1. I go and heat my brain with the love of a certain sweetheart; I sit in the midst of the flame, and breathe a hot sigh.

2. It is not my intention to be in ardours for myself, Shápúr; my object is to bring a certain sweetheart before the world.

I am the thorny shrub without leaves in the desert; no bird takes shelter with me from fear of accidents.

1. If the martyr of thy love-grief is to have a tomb, let it be the gullets of crows and kites, or the stomachs of wild animals.

2. Until I pass along the torrent of restlessness [love], I cannot plunge into the shoreless ocean.

His name is Mahmúd Beg. He is an excellent accountant, and knows also astronomy well.

When the eye has once learned to see [to love], it loses its peaceful sleep; when the heart has once learned to throb, it loses its rest.

The passion which I feel for other lovely ones, has made my heart like a bud which has been forced open by blowing upon it.

When I wish to kiss his foot, I first wipe it with my wet eye; for the eye feels, more than lip, the sweet sorrow of kissing his foot.

Woe me, if my blood is not shed for the crime of my love! To pardon my faults were worse than to take revenge on me.

Sole friend of my chamber! I feel jealous of those who stand outside disappointed. Sweet companion of my feast! I feel jealous of the spectators.

1. If I flee from thy cruelties, tell me what dust I am to scatter on my head when far from thee.

2. If I sit in the dust of the earth on which I wander, whose victim shall I be when I arise?¹

I am as if blind and err about seeking for something. I pant after this mirage [love], though I hold a cooling drink in my hand.

Nádirí, I complain of no one: I have myself set fire to this heap of thorns.

He is a poet of talent; if sharply spoken to, he writes very well.

I am dead, and yet the blisters of my wandering foot do not dry up: neither death nor the life to come can bring the journey towards this stage [love] to a close.

No eye is fit to behold my glory; my figure in the looking-glass even appears veiled.

If that be Mançúr's love, do not grieve, O heart. Not every weakminded man is fit to love.²

Intrinsic beauty cannot be seen; and he who looks into the looking-glass sees, indeed, his figure, but forms no part of the glass itself.³

Make thyself a heart as large as the orb of heavens, and then ask for an atom. Do not be satisfied, Nau'í, with a ray of the sun; cherish the lofty aspirations of the little mote.⁴

He is a thoughtful poet, and is experienced in political matters.

I would not exchange my lonely corner for a whole world, and I am glad that my intercourse with the people of the world has left me this impression.

It is no wonder that my little heart expands into a wide plain, when it is filled with thy love.

I cannot raise, from weakness, my hands to my collar, and I am sorry that the rent in my collar reaches so late the hem of my garment.²

1. In being separated from me thou givest me poison to taste and yet askest ‘what does it matter?’ Thou sheddest my blood, thou drivest me away, and yet askest ‘What does it matter?’

2. Thou dost not care for the havoc which the sword of separation has made; sift the dust of my grave and thou wilt know what it matters.³

His name is Sharíf. He possesses some knowledge, is upright, and zealous in the performance of his duties. His rhyme is excellent. He understands arithmetic.

Fortune has been faithful in my time; I am the memorial tablet of Fate's faithfulfulness.

I was at home, and thou camest to me with drunken eyes and with roses under the arm; the very dust of this house of grief budded forth to see the sight of thy arrival.

1. What have I not done to myself in the heat of transgression! What crimes have I not committed whilst trusting to Providence!

2. I and my heart have soared up to a rose bed, and we are jealous of the zephyr's going and coming.

3. A lover has hundreds of wishes besides union with him [the beautiful boy]; I still want thee, Fortune, for many things.

I have in contempt set my foot upon both worlds; neither joy nor sorrow have overpowered my heart.

1. I cherish a love which will be talked of on the day of resurrection; I cherish a grief which no tale can relate.

2. A grief which can coquet with the grief of others, which no thought can comprehend and no pen can describe.

He is a man without selfishness, and of reserved character. Though he says but little, he is a man of worth.

1. I have burnt the furniture of my strong and wise heart; I have set fire to the house of my aspirations and burnt it.

2. I have given up heresy and faith, and, half way between the Ka'bah and the idol temple, I have burnt the sacred thread and the rosary.

1. I know of no plaint that has made impression; I know of no evening that was followed by a cheerful morn.

2. They say that grief is followed by joy, but this is an error: I know but of sorrows being followed by sorrows.

He possesses some talent. He works hard in order to collect wealth, and spends it in a genial way.

I am intoxicated with the pleasures of the society of wits: for there the subtleties of expression vanish at a hint.

Word and thought weep over my circumstances, when without thee I look into the book (of my poems).

My life is half gone—what am I worth now when a single look from thee is valued a hundred lives?

Thou hast the brilliancy of the rose and the colour of wine. How wonderful, what a freshness!

Manliness shines on his forehead, and simplicity is the ornament of his life.

When longing directs its way to that door [love], it overthrows all possibility of returning.

1. The door of Sháh Akbar, the victorious, is a paradise of rest;

2. And if I shave my beard, I do so not to beautify myself,

3. But because beards, like crimes, are of a deep black dye, and can therefore, have no place in a paradise.¹

He lives as a Faqír and wanders bare-footed and bare-headed through the world.

I do not compare thee in beauty with Yúsuf; Yusuf was not so, I do not flatter.

1. My sickness has increased to-night in consequence of the pain of separation, and my wretched condition arises from the hundred excesses of yesterday.

2. The wine of desire flows every night freer. What shall I to-night do with my unsteady heart?

He belongs to a Panjábí family of Shaikhs. Under the patronage of his Majesty he has become a good poet.

The beloved [boy] came, and blotted out my name; nay, he made me quite beside myself.

The beloved has so closely surrounded himself with an array of coquetry, that even Desire found access impossible in this dense crowd.

O Zephyr, the beloved has entirely filled the mould of my desire. I am thy devoted servant, but thou art rather too devoted to his street.

1. My heart has polluted itself with revealing its condition. Though I am silent, the language of my looks has betrayed me.

2. A little thing [love] offers thousands of difficulties; an object apparently within reach offers hundreds of impossibilities.

His name is Khwájah Ján. He is a good man.

1. O Rahí, do no longer cunningly twist this thread [thy religious belief]; give up ideas of future life, beginning, and the purgatory.

2. Put the thread into the fire of love, so that the offensive smell of the water of the corpse may not go to hell (?).

The above (59) poets were presented at Court. There are, however, many others who were not presented, but who sent from distant places to his Majesty encomiums composed by them, as for example, Qásim of Gúnábád; Zamír of Içfahán; Wahshí of Báfah; Muhtashim of Káshán; Malik of Qum; Zuhúrí of Shíráz; Walí Dasht Bayází; Nekí; Çabrí; Figárí; Huzúrí; Qází Núrí of Içfahán; Çáfí of Bam; Ṭaufí of Tabríz; and Rashkí of Hamadán.