Yūsuf va Zuleikha - Joseph and Zuleikha (Rogers)

THE HOLDING EXCUSED OF ZULEIKHA BY THE WOMEN OF EGYPT AFTER HAVING SEEN JOSEPH'S BEAUTY.

When there search for goods men of every kind,
The buyer's heart tow'rds them is more inclined.
One maddening lover by one mistress blessed,
Perchance in love may comfort find and rest,
But with him when another lover vies,
A fire to scorch his heart will there arise.
The state of those whom Joseph rendered dumb,
Witness to Joseph's beauty had become.
Zuleikha's heart grew still the more inflamed,
And her soul greater love to Joseph claimed.
“When ye saw Joseph,” to the dames she said:
“Your hands of love were wounded with the blade.
“If now his love ye hold excused in me,
“Let me from your reproach be ever free.
“Enter the door of friendship as my friends,
“Give me your aid until the matter ends.”
Then all upon the harp of friendship played,
And in their song for her excuses made:
“Joseph the lord in thy soul's realm would seem,
“And in that realm his orders are supreme.
“Him having seen, though as a stone he were,
“Refuse his heart to Joseph who would dare?
“For him although thy love distress thy mind,
“Excuse in his perfection mayst thou find.
“Was any ever born beneath heav'n's sphere,
“Who saw his face, and did not mad appear?
“If thou art in love, reproach is not thine;
“Thou in this traffic incurrest no fine.
“Though often round this earth has heaven been,
“But seldom has it such a loved one seen.
“May his stony heart grow soft with thy love;
“And shame his want of affection remove.”
After this they turned towards Joseph round,
And these words of warning for him they found.
“O precious life!” thus him they addressed;
“In the cause of good name is rent thy vest.
“In this garden, where roses with thorns are born,
“Like thee never bloomed a rose without thorn.
“In this sea, of nine spheres each is a shell,
“Four elements, pearls, in thy honour dwell.
“Insist not ever on thy glorious base:
“Descend a little from thy lofty place.
“Pure one, Zuleikha's dust is at thy feet:
“Thy skirt draw thou at times along her street.
“To thee, pure-skirted one, what loss in this,
“Her dust that sometimes that pure skirt should kiss?
“Oh! strive no longer to defeat her aim,
“Permit with thee what is her only claim.
“On freedom from desire tak'st thou thy stand,
“Withdraw not from the needy now thy hand.
“What is thy service due has reached her ear;
“Forget not the dues of her service here.
“Regard her prayer: Do not too much coquet,
“O lofty cypress, this I fear as yet,
“Since thou but to rebellion dost incline,
“But fruit unpleasant will at last be thine.
“She from her heart will wash thy love away:
“Thee at her feet her hand of power will lay.
“A friend in anger, oh! of this beware,
“From his friend's head the skin will basely tear.
“When the floods of fear pass over her face,
“Her child a mother 'neath her feet will place.
“A threat of jail she holds before thy face,
“But for the ill-disposed of ease a place—
“Grave, dark and narrow where oppressed men lie,
“Whence far and away will the living fly.
“The living there can hardly draw their breath;
“'Tis a place for those who await their death.
“The hand of the builder has not made there
“A way that is light or a hole for air.
“With desperation's lock its door they close:
“There in pale pride the morning never rose.
“Its air the source of every plague would yield,
“Of all misfortune is its soil the field:
“Narrow and darksome as of pitch a jar,
“Chains, fetters, the goods of its people are.
“At boards without water and bread they lie,
“Yet sitting there are content to die.
“Jailors of hard face are there them among,
“Neighbours with bitter words upon their tongue.
“Folds to oppress men in their brows you find;
“A hundred knots in each to plague mankind.
“Their tempers as with fire a world provoke,—
“Their faces all are black with that fire's smoke.
“Can such place of sorrow be ever fit,
“For such a chármer as thou art to sit?
“For God's sake, on thyself bestow thy grace;
“Ope her aim's door before Zuleikha's face.
“Pen-like, her head to comfort's line bring near;
“From her heart's tablet wash the point of fear.
“Should discontent with her perchance there be,
“Or shouldst thou in her no great beauty see,
“When thou art free of her be thou our friend,
“Towards us thy secret inclination bend.
“In beauty none with us can ever vie,
“Moons shining are we all in beauty's sky.
“When we our sugar-eating lips unclose,
“Her mouth from pure shame must Zuleikha close.
“So sweet and sugar-eating as we are,
“Above Zuleikha's is our station far.”
When Joseph heard that this their treach'rous talk
Was merely meant Zuleikha's aim to balk—
Faith to forsake, in folly's ways to dwell,
Was not for him but for themselves as well.
At this their converse he was in despair.
His face then turning from their faces there,
To God he lifted supplication's hand:
“Thou, Who dost ever by the needy stand,
“Refuge of those who solitude observe,
“Friend of all those who chastity preserve,—
“The lamp of fortune of all innocence,
“From ev'ry ill a fortress of defence,—
“They in this thing have strangely wearied me;
“'Twere well to be in jail them not to see.
“In jail I'd best a hundred years remain,
“So never on their face to look again.
“To look on the forbidden blinds the heart,
“And from God's presence throws us far apart.
“If thou the crafty fraud turn not away
“Of those from wisdom's road and Faith's who stray,
“My place through them becomes too tight for me.
“Oh! turn them back: if not, oh! woe is me!”
When for a prison Joseph God besought,
God at his own prayer him to prison brought.
But had he asked for freedom from His grace,
Towards the prison He had never turned his face,—
From their calamity had him released,
And all the pains of prison would have ceased.

THE PREPARING OF ZULEIKHA BY THE WOMEN OF EGYPT TO SEND JOSEPH TO PRISON.

When of those hand-cut women by the guile,
Conceited, idols worshipping the while,
From chastity was not turned Joseph's will,
He clung to chastity the firmer still.
They, like the bats that from the sun take flight,
Became all hopeless at his nearer light.
Into Zuleikha's eyes they then threw dust,
And urged her Joseph into jail to thrust.
They said: “O poor wretch in oppression held,
“Thou art not worthy to be thus repelled.
“Although with Joseph Huris cannot vie,
“Thou hast with him no hope of unity.
“In giving him advice we strove awhile,
“We made our tongue as rough as any file.
“But on his iron will the file not bite;—
“In hardness only is his craft aright.
“Make hot the jail for him, as furnace-glow;
“In that forge softer will his iron grow.
“And when the steel becomes soft in the fire,
“The master can work it at his desire.
“If thou canst not make it softer with heat,
“What wilt thou gain if cold iron thou beat?”
Now when Zuleikha on their magic tongue
In hope of union through the prison hung,
For her own comfort she desired his pain,
His treasure in that ruined house to gain.
If one to perfect love does not attain,
But his own purpose he desires to gain,
He would his love should follow his behest,
And suits his own affairs as he thinks best.
For one rose's scent of love from the mead,
Her soul from many a thorn of grief may bleed.
Zuleikha with the Vazír talked one night,
And of her heart the passion brought to light.
“In Egypt through this boy I've lost my name,—
“In Egypt's people's eyes have come to shame.
“And in this men and women all agree,
“That I am deep in love as I can be.
“His arrow's victim in this plain, they say,
“In blood and dust I am his trembling prey.
“So have the arrows pierced my very heart,
“That one dart lies upon another dart.
“Of his love is void no point of my hair:
“In his love of myself I am not aware.
“I think that this suspicion to repel,
“To send to jail the young man would be well,
“And that in ev'ry street we should proclaim
“His hopeless failure and his helpless shame.
“Thus is that sinner punished who would dare
“His master's property with him to share:
“Of his soul-tearing rage who will not think,
“Whose foot from his lust's carpets will not shrink.
“When all mankind this rage of mine shall see,
“They will dismiss their evil thoughts of me.”
The Vazír's fancy by her counsel moved,
He smiled upon her, and her plan approved.
“I gave to the question,” he said, “much thought,
“And to this matter much reflection brought.
“No better pearl than that which thou hast thread;
“Naught better to my heart than thou hast said.
“To treat him as thou wilt thou hast thy way,
“Or else his dust upon thy path to lay.”
When Zuleikha had thus obtained his leave,
She turned to Joseph again to deceive.
“O aim of my soul, desire of my heart,
“In life I have no wish from thee apart.
“Above thee the Vazír has placed me still,
“Thy head in my pow'r to do as I will.
“At will I place thee in the prison here,
“Or raise thy foot up to the heavenly sphere.
“Lay down thy head: how long wilt thou rebel?
“How long with me wilt thou unhappy dwell?
“Proceed with me upon the road of peace;
“Thyself from shame and me from pain release.
“Oh! grant my desire,—I will give thee thine:
“Thy name in the height of glory shall shine.
“Else, a hundred doors of pain open wide:
“Thy foot in torment in jail shall abide.
“Thus happy to sit and on me to smile,
“Were better than living in jail awhile.”
Joseph allowed in blame his speech to flow,
And loosened his tongue in the way you know.
In Zuleikha's breast then passion awoke;
And to the guard without delay she spoke.
Then his golden crown on the ground they threw:
An old woollen coat on his form they drew:
His silver leg, with iron chain they deck,
With endurance collar around his neck.
As Jesus was, he was placed on an ass;
Through the streets of Egypt they made it pass,
And a crier aloud this warning gave:
“Ev'ry rebellious and impudent slave,
“Whoever, taking the way of disgrace,
“On his master's carpet his foot shall place,
“Should thus with the bad be ever disgraced,
“And with all contempt in the prison placed.”
But there came to see him running the crowd,
And “May God forbid it!” all cried aloud.
“From such a good face can there evil spring?
“On men can such a charmer mischief bring?
“For this is an angel, perfectly pure,
“Who the works of Satan could not endure.
“From ill Fair-face will aye his foot withhold;
“He of good counsel well the tale has told.
“For he upon the earth whose face is good,
“Far better than his face will be his mood,
“And he whose countenance is seeming ill,
“Than his bad ways his face more hideous still.
“Just as in evil good you never see,
“So in the good bad moods can never be.”
Thus to the prison they took him away,
And to the jailors gave him up that day.
That living heart within its walls they knew,
And the prisoners there gained life anew.
Excitement rose in that abode of pain;
The shouts of captives rent the air again.
At the approach of that king of the fair
The captives all to beat their chains prepare.
The fetters on their feet were chains of will,
And their neck-collars yokes of blessing still.
In gladness there their sorrow found relief,
Lighter than blade of grass their hill of grief.
Wherever those of Huri's nature dwell,
To paradise they ever turn a Hell;
And where the rosy-cheeked belovèd goes,
A furnace even is a bed of rose.
The agitated jail again had rest,
The jailor then Zuleikha thus addressed:
“Upon his heart inflict no greater pain;
“Loose from his neck the yoke, from foot his chain.
“His silver body be with wool not warm;
“That palm tree with a golden cloak²³⁶ adorn.
“The dust of sadness wash thou from his head:
“Exalt it with a crown of pomp instead.
“Prepare a chamber freshly for his sake;
“Apart from all the rest his dwelling make.
“For him do thou both wall and door perfume:
“Adorn the roof and window of his room.
“Lay of brocade the richest carpet there;
“And an enticing couch of silk prepare.”
Then Joseph to that chamber when they led,
Carpet of prayer upon the ground he spread.
And in that place, as he was wont each day,
His face turned to the Mehráb there to pray.
Manly, of patience sitting in abode,
Thankful, and saved of women's wiles from load.
To none misfortune happens on the earth,
To hope of favour that does not give birth.
To captives of misfortune in affright
The hope of favour makes their burden light.

THE REPENTANCE OF ZULEIKHA FOR HAVING SENT JOSEPH TO PRISON.

Beneath this azure vault of ancient base
Are strangely careless those of Adam's race.
Favours with gratitude they never view,
And want of thankfulness their habit, too.
Although their lives are in all favour passed,
Their blessings are not known until the last.
Many a lover, who departs in pride,
And thinks that with his love he 's satisfied,
When separating fire fate lights one day,
He melts like candle and consumes away.
As to the captives in the jail awhile
It was a rosebud from that rose's smile,
And to Zuleikha from that cypress fair
Her house was a rosebud whilst it was there;
So when that cypress from her mead withdrew,
More dark than prison that fair garden grew.
A hundred times his absence hard to bear—
Her heart lived in that prison in despair.
No trial worse can a lover bemoan
That her place his love should no longer own!
What ease can there be in that garden, bereft
Of its rose that has gone, when but thorns are left?
In a roseless garden by piercing thorn
The nightingale's foot will ever be torn.
That rose in her garden no more to view,
Like a bud her garment she tore in two.
From grief up to the lip when life is pressed,
What matter if the lover rend his breast?
She to his bosom opens up a way,
For grief to quit and leave his heart more gay.
Her cheek of roses with her nails she'd tear;
As spikenard root out amber-tinted hair.
Her face and hair were thus to all a sign
How in her lover's absence she must pine.
She beat her bosom's stone upon her heart,
And struck the war-drum's signal to depart.
Although of beauty's army she was queen,
In the beat of that drum defeat was seen.
She poured dust with her hand upon her crown;
From her moist eyes the tears came running down.
Of dust and water she made such cement
As in her heart to close her parting's rent.
The rent from parting in her heart that lay
Could be closed hardly with a lump of clay.
Her pomegranate lip with her teeth she ground,—
With a string of pearls that cornelian bound,—
But in this she desired the blood to stay
From her too heated heart that flowed away.
All blue she dyed her cheek of rosy hue,
Like a lily struck when the flood breaks through.
The days of our gladness agree with red,—
Naught suits but blue when we mourn for the dead—
From a bleeding heart on her cheek she wrote,
And in grief her knee with her hand she smote.
“Who has done ever such a deed as I?
“Who has drunk such a cup of poison dry?
“What lover e'er struck in this world of woe
“On his foot with axe such a fearful blow?
“I tore my eye out with my hand, my own,
“And thus blind, myself in a well have thrown.
“On my own back a hill of pain I bound;—
“Beneath that hill has now my back been ground.
“My heart became blood in the days I passed,
“Ere that beauteous picture I gained at last.
“Through treacherous fortune are my fortunes low.
“My hand allow his skirt for naught to go.
“With my soul I went from my heart astray,
“And know no remedy to find my way.”
Thus with heart-burning lamentation sore,
Her nights of sorrow into days she wore.
From everything his perfume where she knew,
In hope of him a heart-felt sigh she drew.
At times she even seized upon his vest,
Since it had one day rubbed against his breast.
Her palate she turned into attar of rose,
And soothed her heart's scar for its many woes.
At times, her face upon his collar placed,
Sadly she kissed the fringe the collar graced—
“This is the yoke of that neck's glory. Nay;
“The cord to bind my spirit;” she would say.
At times within his sleeve her hand would be,
She through its fortune gave herself the victory.
Then as with honour there her eyes she placed,
Filled them with silver as his arm had graced,
Or on her eyelid caused his hem to rest,
Since sometime on his instep it had pressed.
As she was hopeless now to kiss his feet,
That skirt she would with adulation greet.
She saw his head's crown lying on the ground,
And scattered pearls and rubies all around.
This had at times to that head given shade,
At whose feet had a world its forehead laid.
The belt that brought his waist to mind she viewed,
And of his service thought with gratitude.
In memory of that deer that was her prey
Upon her neck as noose the girdle lay.
Of his golden cloak as she the folds undid
Of her two eyes would moisture fill the lid.
She washed his skirt with the tears of prayer,
And formed of ruby tears its fringes there.
When she saw lying of his shoes a pair,²³⁷
She tried to kiss them in her soul's despair.
To be a pair to him passed through her heart,
And patience left her when from him apart.
Its latchets she made for her heart a tie,
Which she dyed in red from her bleeding eye.
Thus every moment a new grief was born,
And from every thing a new cause to mourn.
As she knew the bliss of seeing, each day
In pain of absence she melted away.
She from repentance thus no profit gained,
And in nought but patience a gain remained.
In such a case how could there patience be
And when could her heart from his love be free?
Woe to the lover from his love apart,
The more to him who has once known her heart.
When there is loosed the tie of sympathy,
Absence is torment for eternity.
Where lies no bond of sympathy between,
The grief from parting is not half so keen.
Now in despair was she herself beside,
When good availed not she with evil tried.
She smote with her own head the wall and door;
A bloody dagger to her bosom bore;
She watched on the palace terrace at night,
Herself to cast down headlong from the height.
Then she made a rope of her night-hued hair,
To block up the road of the outer air.
From the world's cruelty release she sought:
From her cup-bearer poisoned bowl she brought.
Of all things scarce and rare she some obtained,
And thus what suited her for death she gained.
Her nurse her hands and feet kissed more and more;
And from her inmost heart would blessings pour.
“Be by thy love thy wishes all fulfilled;
“With his red wine thy cup be ever filled.
“From parting so mayst thou obtain release,
“That thought of parting may for ever cease.
“Come to thyself. In madness live not long.
“Folly forsake, in wisdom be thou strong.
“With grief into my heart thou blood dost pour,
“As thou now doest, who e'er did before?
“Listen to me. Of old I tried this thing;
“Success to thee can only patience bring.
“There's fever through impatience in thy vein:
“From patience' cloud on this fire water rain.
“Should Sarsar's blast with force begin to blow,
“Like weakly grass do not thou fall too low.
“'Twere best thy foot within thy skirt to hold,
“And with firm step be like a mountain bold.
“Patience is aye the source of victory,
“And fortune's base of power will give to thee.
“Through patience thy hope's fruit shalt thou obtain;
“In patience wealth eternal shalt thou gain.
“From rain through patience pearls bear oysters still;
“Patience the mine with precious stones will fill.
“Through patience to an ear will grow a grain
“Provision whence the traveller may obtain.
“And in the womb one drop in patience sown
“Will in nine months a shining moon have grown.”
Zuleikha, much distressed in heart and soul,
Must in some wise her nurse's words console.
Though to the hem her collar rent in two,
Her patient foot within her skirt she drew.
Patience those lovers who aye keep in view,
Will base their faith on wise men's counsel too,
Yet when the counsellor shall speak no more,
Out of their memory his words they score.

THE IMPATIENCE OF ZULEIKHA AT SEPARATION FROM JOSEPH, AND HER GOING WITH HER NURSE TO THE JAIL AT NIGHT.

When in the jail set Joseph's sun of grace,
Hid to Zuleikha was the heaven's face.
As from Zuleikha's sky he disappears,
For Joseph's love the heav'ns weep starry tears.
The twilight with these blood tears was red,
And the sphere's skirt became as if it bled.
From Joseph's grief Zuleikha so was found,
That her tears' twilight scattered blood around.
Weeping she uttered a heart-burning cry,
Just as by day she heaved the bitter sigh.
Whene'er a lover's day is turned to night,
Far greater then becomes his passion's might.
Dimmed is in parting of his day the light,
And still more darksome is his dreary night.
Although his day become from sorrow black,
His night increases further black on black.
The night bears ever in its dark'ning womb,
That hour for lovers that increases gloom:
Out of its membrane as the child comes, then
It sucks no milk, but blood from hearts of men.
Of such a mother who would eat the fruit,
Whose offspring such a food as blood would suit?
In her impatience then Zuleikha knew,
A night in which destruction²³⁸ came to view.
Her charmer absent and her lover far²³⁹,
No light at home, at night nor moon nor star.
When one loved face gives not the house its light,
A thousand torches cannot make it bright.
From grief of heart no slumber closed her eye,
The heart shed blood-tears, and she raised the cry:
“What Joseph's state this night I cannot tell,
“Nor who is pledged to do him service well;
“Beneath his foot who may have spread the bed,
“Or on the pillow who arranged his head;
“Who lights the candle by his pillow side,
“What hand to smooth it may so gently glide;
“Who from his waist the girdle may have loosed,
“Or told the stories that his sleep induced—
“Does the air of the prison suit him yet?
“Like a bird is he tamed down in the net?
“Is his rose as fresh as it was of old?
“Do his spikenard locks still retain their fold?
“Has the air robbed his fair rose of its bloom?
“Is the spikenard dead and without perfume?
“Does his heart, like the rosebud, tightly close,
“Or smiles wreath his lip as the opening rose?”
Thus in every form her anguish she told,
Until the first watch of the night was old.
Then to wait no strength in her heart remained:
Her stream of patience no water retained.
Sharp fire of longing fell on her. With eyes
Full of blood to her nurse she cried: “Arise!
“Let us now at once to the prison go;
“Let us secretly enter that house of woe.
“In the jail's corner concealed let me be,
“That thence that moon of the jail I may see.
“In a jail where abides that glorious cheek,
“No jail, but a bright new spring we shall seek.
“In gardens opes the lover's heart with glee,
“And in the jail this rosebud blooms for me.”
Like a graceful cypress her way did she find,—
Limping, her nurse, like a shadow, behind.
Like night-wandering moon to the jail she came,
And secretly called the jailor by name.
The door she beckoned him open ajar;
Thence he showed her that shining moon afar.
She saw from afar his carpet of prayer:
A sun overwhelmed with light, he was there.
At times as a candle he stood erect—
In his face the pris'ners a light detect.
Sometimes his body, like the new moon bent,
A ray of brilliance to his pallet lent.
At times to ask for pardon bending low,
As the fresh rose-branch nightly breezes blow.
Now in humiliation on his breast,
He sat like violet with head depressed—
Far from herself, yet was she near to him,
She sat concealed within a corner dim.
Wailing in heart and soul with sorrow new,
Her eye her jess'mine changed to tulip's hue.
With pearly teeth she bit her ruby lip,
And from her verdant palm the dates would strip.
With eyes that shed blood till her tears were red,
Burst from her heart her secret, as she said:
“O thou of all fair ones the lamp and eye,
“Their hearts' wish to all who in sorrow lie,
“Thy love has lit a fierce fire in my soul:
“Thy love my being is consuming whole.
“Thy union on my fire no water throws:
“Thy water quenches not my heart that glows.
“Thy sword, with cruelty my breast that tears,
“Brings to my heart no anguish and no cares.
“For me oppressed dost thou no pity know:
“Alas thy mercy! my repulsion woe!
“Each moment by new sorrow am I torn:
“Would that my mother me had never borne!
“And when my mother bore me, on my head
“Would that my nurse her shadow had not laid!
“Or of pure milk had given not enough,
“Or savage, mixed it with some pois'nous stuff!”
Of her own state these words Zuleikha said:
From self-possession was not Joseph led.
He never moved by the breadth of a hair,
Or else no sign of his feeling was there.
Like the morn rising, as the night passed by,
In tears dissolved became Zuleikha's sky.
The royal drum's sound echoed through the air:
Muazzins²⁴¹ called aloud to morning prayer.
The dog wound his tail round his own neck tight,
His breath released from his barking at night.
The cock arose from his sleep, and, head high,
Gave out from his throat his resounding cry.
Gath'ring her skirt, Zuleikha passed away—
In reverence kissed the threshold as it lay.
And whilst that moon was hidden in the jail,
Her coming to the jail would never fail.
For the food of her soul she would come and go,
And no other road would her spirit know.
No garden to any attraction lent,
As that jail tow'rds which her sore heart was bent.
Yes, he whose love is in prison confined,
Except in that jail no comfort can find.

THE GOING UP OF ZULEIKHA ON TO THE TERRACE OF THE PALACE, AND LOOKING AT THE JAIL AND WEEPING AT SEPARATION FROM JOSEPH.

Night came when lovers' secrets hidden dwell;
Night came the hopeless' sorrow to expel.
Much is it possible to do at night,
Impossible to do, when it is light.
Zuleikha's nightly sorrow passed away,
No grief, but nightly mourning passed away.
Evil and trouble with the day came on;
Sorrow that burns the heart away came on.
No mind towards the jail to find her way,
Nor patience not in jail to spend her day.
Each moment now some costly gift she made,
And in the hand placed of some trusty maid.
Her she would send to Joseph in the jail,
In her own stead to see him, and not fail.
When from the jail that trusted one came back,
To her in caresses she would not lack.
At times upon her foot her head would lie,
Or she would kiss a hundred times her eye.
“This foot has walked in the same place as he,
“And with this eye his fair cheek didst thou see.
“Can I not press a kiss upon his eye,
“Oft on his foot's sole may my cheek not lie,
“That eye yet let me for one moment kiss,
“That sees at times that beauteous face of his.
“Let me for once my face that foot lay on,
“That where he sojourns to the place has gone.”
Then would she question her about his state,
His handsome features, his propitious fate.
“From sorrow has his cheek no furrow seen?
“In his affairs has no knot fastened been?
“In that air does his rose not fade away?
“Or with that form the soil no mischief play?
“Of my dainties sent does he eat or drink?
“Of her who loves him does he ever think?”
With many questions her would she thus ply,
Then rise from her place with blood-streaming eye.
There stood a window on the terrace high,
From which the prison terrace caught the eye.
There would she take her solitary seat,
The window closed of people to the feet.
Her eye-lash threading the pearl in her eye,
Aye at the jail would she look and would cry:
“Ah! who am I his rosy face to see?
“To see his terrace hence enough for me!
“To see his face unworthy though I be,
“To see his door or wall is joy for me.
“My moon wherever he his place may take
“Will mead of Paradise his prison make.
“From Fortune capital that roof has won,
“For in its shade lies of the world the sun.
“My back does that wall ruin with despair,
“That leant against its back my moon is there.
“Fortune with head erect may pass that gate,
“'Neath which my cypress bows his head of late.
“And oh! how prosperous must that threshold be,
“Kissing the feet of charmers such as he!
“Oh! happy 'twould be if his sun's sword-ray
“Of my form made atoms to float away!
“Down from his window I headlong would fall,
“Before his bright sun so glorious all!
“A thousand envies bear I 'gainst that ground,
“Where in such grace he ever moves around.
“From his skirt's dust upon it perfume lies;
“From amber-shedding locks there amber flies.”
In short, till night there nothing else occurred,
Her occupation was this only word.
In such talk to her life her spirit rose;
Her day passed on to night in these her woes.
And she bethought herself, when next night came,
As on the previous night to do the same.
Such was her night, and such as well her day,
So long as in the jail her heart's light lay.
At night to the jail she planned to repair:
By day she would gaze from her window there.
And at no time could aught else there befall,
But looking on himself or on his wall.
Thus Joseph so she in her heart enshrined,
That life or world she never bore in mind.
In her deep thought of him herself she lost;
Out of mind's tablet good and bad she crossed.
In spite of handmaid's oft repeated call,
She to her right sense never came at all,
But told those handmaids in the self-same strain:
“I never to myself shall come again.”
She said: “In words attention do not seek:
“First shake me well, and then begin to speak.
“By shaking ye bring me to reason near;
“To listen then may I open my ear.
“My heart is aye with my prisoner there,
“And from him it comes that I thus despair,
“And in whosoever heart that moon may dwell,
“How of another tale can she tell?”
One day her state of health so changed indeed,
That of the lancet's wound there came a need.
And to no one's eye on the ground there came,
But of Joseph, Joseph, in blood the name.
The light-handed expert her vein that smote
With lancet pen but this letter wrote.
So full of her friend were her skin and vein,
That friend's name from her skin they could but gain.
Oh! happy he who from himself obtains
Release, and knowledge of himself regains!
In his heart his charmer he has so enshrined
That no one else an entrance there may find.
Each vein of his life she so enters there,
That unfilled of her one may see no hair.
Neither scent is left of himself nor hue:
Peace or war with none ever comes to view.
Nor crown nor throne does he ever require:
From his street departs all evil desire.
Of aught but love he ne'er conceives a thought,
And to account himself is never brought.
If he speaks a word, with his love he speaks:
All hope he may have from his love he seeks.
From what is raw to ripe he turns his face:
This being in his thought ne'er finds a place.
Jámi, from self, too, do thou pass away:
To the eternal mansion find thy way.
I know the way there thou dost know indeed:
The wealth of being is not worth thy heed.
Out of this weary life thy foot remove:
The wealthy home of non-existence prove.
Once wast thou not, and didst no loss sustain:
Be not to-day, for all that thou canst gain.
Seek not in self well-being any more;
From such desire no profit is in store.

SETTING FORTH THE BENEFITS CONFERRED BY JOSEPH ON THE PEOPLE IN THE JAIL, AND HIS INTERPRETA-TION OF THE DREAM OF THE SERVANTS OF THE KING OF EGYPT, AND THEIR RECOMMENDATION TO RECALL HIM TO THE KING'S MEMORY.

He who is born upon a happy day,
This beaming light sweeps darkness all away.
He seeks the thorn-brake: 'tis a bed of rose:
The rose for him to Tartar musk-bag grows.
Like cloud if he a thirsty field pass by,
A Paradise beneath his feet will lie.
Like breeze if he across a garden flit,
A bright lamp on each flower's cheek is lit.
If a prison he enters happily,
The prisoners there of their grief are free.
The prison thus to each imprisoned wight
Became a smiling mead at Joseph's sight.
When Joseph arrived there, great was their glee;
From the bond of pain and grief they were free;
The yoke on their necks a collar of gain,—
A ring of joy on their foot was the chain.
If sick became any prisoner there,
Or became a captive to toil and care,
He girt his loins to sick men to give heed,
Till from all care and sickness they were freed.
And if a captive's heart were in despair,
Some means to set him right would he prepare.
With open face he sought his love to gain,
And from his strait conveyed him to the plain.
If a poor man's joy turned to bitterness,
And waned his poverty's moon to grow less,
From the wealthy he seized a golden key,—
With joy broke the lock of his misery.
And if some good man dreamed a dream of woe,
His goods in thought's whirlpool swam to and fro,—
To him the dream's meaning would he declare,—
And his goods reach land from the vortex of care.
Two trusty men of the king of that land
Had been driven away from near his hand.
On equal terms these in the prison spoke,
And in that mourning house bore equal yoke.
Each of these two men dreamed a dream one night;
The souls of both were troubled in affright.
His dream gave one the good news of release,
The other the sad tidings of decease.
To neither of them was the meaning known,
And both a heavy load of care must own.
Each of his dream to Joseph told the word,
And of his own dream each the answer heard.
One then they punished on the gallows-tree;
One in the king's court was again set free.
Towards the king this young man turned his face,
Of honour and of dignity the place;
Towards the king upon his throne he went,
And by his mouth a message Joseph sent.
“When access to the king thou shalt obtain,
“A chance of speaking to him must thou gain.
“In the assembly bring me to his mind,
“And thou an ample recompense shalt find.
“‘A stranger in the prison lies,’ declare,
“Of grace from thee, just king, denied all share.
“Keep not the guiltless thus in misery:
“For this from justice' road to stray would be.”
By fortune favoured, when the man drank up
The wine of nearness from the royal cup,
So passed that message from his mind away,
And came not back again for many a day.
The plant of his promise brought forth despair,
And kept tightly bound the prisoner there.
He of all others whom God may think fit,
Beloved on the seat of honour shall sit.
The road of causes for him will He close,
Nor on security of man repose.
His face will he turn to His own alone;
Aside for others must his love be thrown.
In others' hands He will not leave him prey:
To others He desires not he should pray—
Him in His snare alone that He may see,
His hand on others' skirts laid must not be.

THE SENDING FOR JOSEPH BY THE KING OF EGYPT FOR THE INTERPRETATION OF HIS OWN DREAM.

Many the lock for which there is no key
To open which a road there may not be,
When in spite of endeavour, care, and thought,
The wise man's devices may come to nought.
Though an artist's hand should not intervene,
Though no creator appear on the scene,
From mystery's world a sudden door will ope,
Reveal the deposit and grant our hope.
When Joseph thus abandoned all his plan,
He of his stratagem cut through the span;
Except in God no refuge there remained
By which in evil he might be sustained.
By his own wisdom when he could not stand,
God, in His mercy, took him by the hand.
To Egypt's ruler wise and king one night,
In dreams seven cattle there appeared in sight;
These all were very good and full in hide,
And with each other in their beauty vied.
Seven other cattle were behind them seen,
Equal in size, but all dried up and lean.
Upon the seven first these seven lean ones set,
And as grass in the field completely ate.
Seven green, fat corn-ears in the self-same wise,
Food for the heart, provision for the eyes,
Arose. Seven other dry ears, by-and-bye,
Behind them coming, made them also dry.
Next morning, when the king from dreams arose,
He asked the wise their meaning to disclose.
All said: “This dream's impossible to tell;
“Fancy and doubt there may be here as well.
“Its meaning wisdom never can explain:
“From all attempts 'twere better to refrain.”
Then that young stripling who of Joseph knew,
From face of his affair the veil withdrew.
“In jail of royal beauty one there lies
“In solving subtleties accounted wise;
“Quick to interpret dreams and subtle, he
“A diver for this sea of pearls will be.
“This secret will I at thy word explain,
“And thy dream's meaning bring to thee again.”
He said: “From me leave why dost thou require?
“More than clear eye the blind can not desire.
“Blind from that moment is my wisdom's eye,
“Since from that secret's knowledge far I lie.”
Then straightway went the young man to the jail,
Of the king's dream to Joseph told the tale.
He said: “In ears and kine ye years may see,
“Descriptive each of its own quality.
“When the kine are fat and the ears are green,
“In this way a prosperous year may be seen.
“When ears are dry, and cattle lean appear,
“A sorry tale they tell thee of the year.
“In those seven years that ye may see at first,
“For rain the field and grain will never thirst;
“Men full of Grace these seven years will see;
“But afterwards seven other years will be;
“Consumed the former bounties that are giv'n,
“To wretchedness will people's lives be driven.
“No cloud of bounty o'er the sky shall pass;
“The ground shall not produce a blade of grass.
“The pleasures of the wealthy all will cease,
“The poor in misery will all decease.
“On Time's board will there be so little bread,
“‘Bread!’ will men cry, and give their lives instead.”
The young man heard the word and turned him back;
Nor did the king's boon comrade justice lack.
As Joseph's tale and the dream's sense were told,
Did as a rosebud the king's heart unfold.
He said: “Arise, and Joseph hither bring,
“That I may trust him in this subtle thing.
“When one the charmer's voice itself may hear,
“Through other's mouth why bring it to the ear?
“As sugar sweet thou bring'st this friendly word
“Far sweeter were it from himself when heard.”
Back to the jail once more his way he made,
And to that precious one the news conveyed.
“Thou of the garden cypress pure, proceed,
“And plant thy footsteps in the royal mead;
“Walk on in beauty with thy charming face,
“And with thy roses that fair garden grace.”
He said: “To such a king why should I go,
“Who wretched me, though guiltless, long ago
“Has to the jail in years gone by conveyed,
“And hopeless of his mercy's tokens made.
“If he desire my foot without should stand,
“Out of this sorrow-house let him command
“That those who on my face when first they gazed,
“And cut their hands before me, all amazed,
“As Pleiads may altogether appear,
“And the veil lift up my affair to clear;
“What was my fault, and what they saw in me
“That to thy prison brought my goods should be.
“Then for the king will the secret be sure,
“That from this sin my skirt is clean and pure.
“Myself to wickedness I never brought,
“Nor of such sin has ever been my thought.
“Evil of mine in that house none might see,
“But truth and purity was found in me.
“Better as burglar treasure bear away,
“Than of the house the honour to betray.”
When the young man told these words to the king,
He bade them those women of Egypt bring.
Towards him together they all took their flight,
As the moths aye flutter towards the light.
When that assembly all together came,
Like a candle he loosed his tongue of flame:
“What in that holy light had come to view
“That ye on him the sword of scandal drew?
“Ye were through his face in a bright spring mead:
“Why did ye him towards the prison lead?
“An idol who too heavy feels a rose,
“Who wise on such a neck would chains impose?
“The rose of night winds that bears not the pain,
“Why binds its foot with more than water's chain?”
“O thou of happy fate!” the women said,
“Prosper still more thy throne and crownèd head!
“In Joseph saw we only purity,
“But perfect honour and pure dignity.
“No pearl in oyster-shell can purer be
“Than he from accusation's stain is free.”
Zuleikha also then was sitting near,
Her soul from fraud, and tongue from falsehood clear.
Behind a veil her treachery would she hide,
And the promptings of love were laid aside.
Truth's flag was by her spirit held aloft:
And like truth's morn her breath was pure and soft.
Fully her own transgression she confessed:
“The truth is clear!” a voice came from her breast.
“In Joseph is no kind of fault,” she said:
“'Tis I who in his love astray am led.
“His union with me first did I require,
“He drove me off, ungranted my desire.
“Through my oppression he in prison fell:
“And to his grief my sorrows led as well.
“And when my grief was more than I could bear,
“I that contagion called on him to share.
“And as from me that cruelty he knew,
“To him from me is compensation due.
“Whatever favours to bestow the good king please,
“Joseph deserves a hundred such as these.”
These well-weighed words the monarch heard disclose;
He smiled as rosebud, blossomed as the rose.
He bade them Joseph, from the prison freed,
Into that garden of enjoyment lead—
Of pleasure's garden him, a smiling rose,
Best in a garden, not a jail, enclose.
In the soul's realm a prosperous king is known:
No seat becomes him better than a throne.

THE COMING OF JOSEPH OUT OF THE PRISON, AND THE HONOURING OF HIM BY THE KING, AND THE DEATH OF THE VAZIR.

The custom in this ancient cell is this;
Without pains bitter there is no sweet bliss.
A child for nine months eating blood must lie,
But with its moon-like face comes by-and-bye.
In rock the ruby hardship much goes through
Before the bright sun gives its proper hue.
When Joseph's night turned from its weary way,
A remedy appeared with rising day.
When as a mountain heavy was his woe,
Rose from behind the hill the sun in glow.
To pay him all respect and honour due,
The courtiers soon their monarch's message knew.
From the king's hall that aped the sun in pride,
Beyond the plain two farsangs²⁴⁴ on each side,
On to the jail two rows there stood arrayed,
And his own retinue each there displayed.
There saucy slaves with golden girdles wait,
In robes of golden cloth, of graceful gait.
Of sun-like forms the singers thither throng,
With strains of Hebrew and of Syrian song.
There of rough-riders a whole army ride,
On Arab steeds, exulting in their pride,
With lords of Egypt reck'ning that defied,
Who scattered offerings on ev'ry side.
The poor around, in hope of reaping them,
One stretched his robe, the next his garment's hem.
As Joseph came towards the royal seat,
With robe of honour for a monarch meet,
Upon a charger, which, from foot to crown,
With gold and jewels thou wouldst say would drown.
Of musk and amber trays stood everywhere;
And purses full of pearls and jewels rare
Men scattered freely on the horses' road.
Beggars became free of their beggar's load.
When came the royal palace into sight,
Did Joseph from his swift-paced steed alight.
Beneath his feet were silk and satin spread;
To cast beneath his feet they raised the head.
He walked over satin and fine brocade,
As the moon in the sky, over satin laid.
Of his approaching when the monarch knew,
To meet him fortune-like he forward flew.
Tight to his own bosom him he drew,
As rose-cheeked cypress, box of rosy hue.
On his own throne he placed him by his side,
And to sweet questionings himself applied.
First of his dream he asked him the intent;
His sweet lip Joseph to explain then bent.
Of ev'rything he asked him after this,
Nor did he circumstance or action miss.
With pleasant and sweet answers he replied,
And the king's wonder grew and multiplied.
At last he said: “This dream that I have seen,
“And which by thee interpreted has been,
“For this what remedy can I provide,
“The sorrow of the world to set aside?”
He answered: “Now of plenty in the day,
“When cloud and dew to fall do not delay,
“Thou shouldst by crier in each realm enjoin
“To tillage people should themselves confine:
“With their own nails the hardest rock should tear,
“With sweat of face to sow the seed prepare.
“And when the ear the swelling grain shall fill,
“Lay it aside for future eating still:
“From the corn's body growing thus the spike
“Upon the face of foes a spear to strike.
“Those ears when in the house they thus shall store,
“Or famine or want shall be seen no more.
“Let each one take for his mournful desire,
“All from those treasures that he may require.
“In all things caution let them exercise,
“And prove in management that they are wise;
“That he to do the work who has the skill,
“That work may yet be able to fulfil.
“In aught that in the world thou mayest try,
“More learned pledge thou wilt not find than I.
“The matter's management confide to me,
“No one more suited to it canst thou see.”
And when the king saw his ability,
In Egypt's realm he raised his dignity.
He placed the army under his command,
To his authority gave up the land;
He placed him in his seat on golden throne,
With many honours Egypt's Vazír known.
When with his foot the golden throne he graced,
Beneath his feet the whole world's head was placed.
When from the hall upon the plain he went,
The voice of heralds the high heaven rent.
On ev'ry side when he to ride was wont,
A thousand grooms would move along in front.
When through a province he his course would hold,
A countless army there one might behold.
When God had Joseph thus exalted high,
And given with his rank nobility,
Fortune from Egypt's Vazír turned away,
Reversed of dignity his standard lay.
He took this injury so much to heart
That he became the target to Death's dart.
Zuleikha turned her tow'rds the wall of woe;
Parted from Joseph, was her back a bow,
Backed no more by the Vazír's dignity,
Nor was her heart from grief for Joseph free.
To be aye slow to love, and quick to hate,
In this abode of woe's the work of Fate.
One like the sun it raises to the sky,
One like a shadow on the ground may lie.
Happy that wise man who in ev'ry thing
To his own work no confidence may bring.
Not through good fortune is his head raised high,
Nor his soul melts in ruin's misery.

SETTING FORTH THE CONDITION OF ZULEIKHA THROUGH THE DEATH OF THE VAZIR OF EGYPT, AND HER BEING OVERPOWERED BY THE LOVE OF JOSEPH.

The heart that by its charmer may be grieved,
Is both of gladness and of woe relieved.
Nor to his skirt another's love is bound,
Nor any gladness hovers him around.
Thus had the world become a sea of woes,
And waves of sorrow like the mountains rose.
Their moisture on his skirt were never known,
Nor by their grief would he be overthrown.
Of joy a banquet if Fate should prepare,
And should eternal pleasure show him there,
He looks not on that feast of loveliness,
Nor wishes his sorrow one hair the less.
Zuleikha, that bird of a plaintive tone,
To her the world's birdcage had narrow grown.
In those days when Fortune to her was good,
And her private house as a garden stood,
The Vazír for her head a shadow made;
And to her loveliness his plant gave shade.
All things collected for her pleasure there,
Her cheek was lit up as a candle fair.
Yet grief for Joseph never left her heart,
Nor would from off her tongue his tale depart.
Of the Vazír when she was then bereft,
And of the goods of wealth was nothing left,
The thought of Joseph's face was still her friend,
And to her wounded heart would comfort lend.
In deserts in his memory would she roam,
And now in sorrow's corner make her home.
In separation she could neither eat nor sleep,
And from her eyes the blood-red tears would weep.
“Happy when I the fruit of Fortune ate,
“And in one house was with my lover set;
“Or, when through trusty eyes still him I saw,
“A hundred times his form might fancy draw;
“When of that wealth my fortune me deprived,
“In jail to shut him wretched I contrived.
“In the dark night I made my way there soon,
“And used to look upon that shining moon.
“The rust I rubbed off from my heart by day,
“And gazed at door and wall wherein he lay.
“To-day from these far distant I remain,
“Apart in body, with my soul in pain.
“I only hold his image in my heart,
“Nor from that image am I e'er apart.
“That image gone, to me what would life be?
“That image in my heart is life to me.”
This tale she told, and mingled it with sighs;
And fire struck sun and moon both in the skies;
Like Aleph's Madd²⁴⁵, the smoke was of her sigh,
Upon her head a black tent spread on high.
From evils of the sun at any place
Of refuge save that tent there was no trace.
Above her head it stood not as a tent,
But to guard heaven from her arrows meant.
Against those darts had heaven no defence,
That vault they would have passed through so immense.
She from her eye-lash blood-red tears²⁴⁶ would shed—
Not tears, but drops of blood²⁴⁶ I should have said.
When from burnt heart the fever burning grew,
Upon her lip her eyelash water threw.
She washed not from her cheek the tears she shed,
And from her tears her cheek was tinged with red.
From bloody tears her cheek grew crimson hued,
And in her heart the bond of love renewed,—
For that affair as ready cash was brought,
For marriage dowry heart's blood only sought.
With nail she sometimes tore her cheek of rose,
And her eye blood's fountain would disclose.
Each was an inkstand of vermilion bright,
For grief's divorce with which a deed to write.
At times her breast, at times her heart, she tore;
Nought but love's image on her soul she wore.
She struck upon her knee of wild-rose hue,
And brought the water-lily's colour blue.
“Worthy,” she said, “of my friend's love I prove;
“If he's the sun, yet I as lotus move.
“And since the sun is friendly to the West,
“To act as lotus will for me be best.”
Her cone-like heart she struck once and again,
And bit her fingers as 'twere sugar cane.
Her hand, of every gaze that was so shy,
From wounded fingers had a crimson dye.
A pen she of her bleeding fingers made:
Her camphor-palm like book she open laid,
And in that book a word of grief she wrote;
Of any other thing she made no note.
Yet in that book the story that she told,
Unwritten might her lover ne'er behold.
For many wretched years such was her state
At separation, aye disconsolate.
Ageing her troubled youth from Heaven knew,
Her pitch-like hair assumed a milk-white hue.
The morning came: its crew night gathered up,
And poured in camphor to its musky cup.
From Fate's fell arrow had the raven fled,
And in its nest the owl had made its bed.
(No ancient man could this e'er bring to mind,
That in a raven's house an owl you'd find.)
Tears from her eye washed out the dark'ning hue,
In that narcissus bud the jess'mine grew.
When glad beneath this vault of crooked track,
Her eye that saw the world was clothed in black;
When it, then, turned to mourning through despair,
Why turned the blackness into whiteness there?
From India came the pattern of the thing,
That Hindoos love the hue of falcon's wing²⁴⁷.
On her fresh rosy face a trembling fell,
On her wild rose were wrinkles seen as well.
Upon her brow that fold which stood in grace
Fell through old age's sickness on her face.
In this old hermitage none ever knew
The water rippling when no breezes blew.
Now with no wind, or blew the breezes keen,
Rippling like water both her cheeks were seen.
Her cypress crooked must love's burden own;
Ring-like towards her foot her head had grown.
From head to foot her destiny was marred,
And like a ring, of union's feast debarred.
Here where is wet with blood of men the clay,
And vision's capital has passed away,
Her head fell forwards as her back was bent,
As if to find her capital intent.
Thus in that desert months and years passed down,
No anklets wore her feet, her head no crown.
No satin robes upon her back she wore,
And in her ears no drops of pearl she bore;
Upon her neck no jewelled collar borne,
Upon her cheek no gold-wrought veil was worn.
Beneath her side an earthern cushion lay;
Her tender cheek its pillow made on clay.
With Joseph's love yet were her couch on clay
Better than silk bed on which Huris lay.
The brick beneath her face, at thought of him,
A pillow gemmed from Paradise would seem.
To this sad pain, but part of which I've sung,
And to describe a hundred pearls have strung,
No name but Joseph's on her tongue there passed,
And none brought comfort to her soul at last.
Silver and gold stores whilst she yet possessed,
A thousand caskets full of gems the best,
Her Joseph's tale would any then repeat,
She cast her gold and silver at his feet;
Like a casket of gems, his mouth for him
She filled all full of pearls up to the brim:
Thus spending all in her liberal way,
Her gold and silver had all passed away.
With a woollen garment was she content,
The belt a fibre from the palm tree rent.
Those who spoke of Joseph, no more would tell,
But down on the knee of silence they fell.
Passed the time when from the wise she could hear
Of Joseph, and draw soul's food through her ear,
It came to this, that losing all her strength,
A reed house on his road she built at length;
That when his army passed by in its course,
Her soul might from their voice derive fresh force.
Alas! that wretched one no more might stand,
The reins of power fallen from her hand,
From her love's union's board debarred so long,
Unpleasing, out of tune her pleasure's song.
Union with him she loved no power lent;
No strength'ning message from his country sent.
At times to winds would she his secret speak,
And from the birds at times his traces seek.
When on the road she saw that trav'lers passed,
The dust of exile on their faces cast;
She kissed their feet as those of men of name,
And washed those feet that from his province came.
When on that road his course her Sultan took,
On him she had no pow'r to cast a look.
By his road's dust her heart was ever eased,
With his army's voices she sat well pleased.

THE COMING OF ZULEIKHA ON TO JOSEPH'S ROAD, AND HER BUILDING A HOUSE OF REEDS, THAT SHE MIGHT ENJOY THE SOUND OF HIM AND HIS ARMY PASSING.

Zuleikha, lonely, of her life despaired;
A reed house she on Joseph's road prepared,
And this with plaited reeds was fenced around,
That gave forth music with a plaintive sound.
Of separation when she made lament
Was from each reed a plaintive murmur sent.
When separation's fire began to blaze,
Flame in each separate reed her sighs would raise.
Wounded and fallen in that brake she lay,
While arrows pierced her like a hunted prey;
But as she suffered yet from love's sweet pain,
Each arrow was to her as sugar-cane.
In Joseph's stable was a steed Div-bred,
That threw down spheres and raised the heaven's head.
This courser, piebald as the sphere of light,
To-day a thousand segments joined from night.
One could in him both light and darkness see;
As old Time's nights and days combined was he.
In heav'nly Virgo from his tail a cup,
The moon's bowl by his hoof was wrinkled up.
Upon each hoof a golden crescent bound,
And as its nails the stars were fastened round.
As his hoof's wound upon the hard rock rang,
From each of his new moons a planet sprang.
And if there in his course flew off a shoe,
Appeared a moon in heaven that was new.
In the hunting field he aye outstripped the prey
And flew like arrow from its side away.
If there had been a plain from East to West,
Like lightning he'd have crossed without a rest.
The dust around if he raised in his race,
When would the wind of Sarsar reach his face?
On the road though full of his drops of sweat,
On him had no one seen a drop as yet.
His temper such that he would gently go,
Like flood from drops that may begin to flow.
With his own pluck he like a treasure flew,
Nor of a whip's lash the misfortune knew.
Tame had he stayed in stable and content,
The spheres their neck had in his service bent.
If he had so desired, he might have won
In the moon's kettle water from the sun;—
For him had they prepared by night and day
Barley from Virgo, grass from the Milky Way.²⁴⁸
Of silken hair they had prepared a sieve,
Barley by night for moons and years to give.
He chose the Sidrah birds that sing at morn
To come and pick stones for his barley corn.
The “Twins” hung from his saddle down a pair,
His stirrups on each side a crescent fair.
His foot when in the stirrup Joseph placed,
As in the “Twins” the moon, his seat he graced.
When that Canopus²⁴⁹ 'neath his thigh he drew,
Tow'rds ev'ry side the courser keener grew.
In ev'ry place whoever heard him neigh
Needed no drum as summons for the way.
Around that monarch all assembled soon,
Like a group of planets around the moon.
Zuleikha, also, when she heard the neigh,
Ran from her hut of reeds upon his way.
In grief she sat of the road by the side,
Lamenting so wildly, where he would ride.
And when without Joseph appeared the crowd,
The boys would call to her in jesting aloud:
“Lo! on the road is Joseph coming on,
“Joseph the envy of the moon and sun.”
Zuleikha said: “Of this Joseph of mine,
“Ye delicate ones, I perceive no sign.
“To my heart with these jests give no more pain,
“For no scent of Joseph comes to my brain.
“On every stage where that charmer goes
“The land full of musk of Tartary grows.
“In any company where he may be
“The breeze of his presence must come to me.”
And with the crowd when Joseph drew more nigh,
And his might moved their hearts, they then would cry,
And say to her: “Oh! Joseph is not here;
“No traces in this crowd of him appear.”
“Strive not to cozen me with this,” she cried;
“And of my friend the coming do not hide.
“That idol to whom souls their kingdom yield,
“How may his coming be from me concealed?
“This breeze to my soul's garden vigour gives,
“Not that alone, but every soul that lives.
“When on the road revived the spirit goes,
“The news of that reviving soul it knows.”
When that distracted, lonely one could hear
The heralds shouting out the road to clear,
“Distant an age!” her cry would rend the air;
“A hundred woes I in this absence bear.
“To bear more absence I have not the pow'r;
“Except by force I will not wait an hour.
“How long must I be absent from my love?
“Now from myself 'twere better I should move.”
Thus saying, often would she senseless fall,
Forgetful even of herself and all.
Oblivion's cup would not then leave her hand,
In her reed hut unconscious she would stand.
Among those reeds when breathed her sadden'd soul,
Cries and complaints arose beyond control.
After this manner passed her ev'ry day,
And of employment gave no other way.

THE TAKING HOLD OF JOSEPH BY ZULEIKHA AND FINDING FAVOUR WITH HIM, AND HER BEING CONVERTED.

Hopeless lovers are ne'er content: the pow'r
Of longing increases from hour to hour.
Never long²⁵⁰ at rest in the same desire,
And ever looking for something that's high'r.
Smelling the rose, he would have it in view,
And when he has seen he would pluck it, too.
Zuleikha, who sat by the road at first,
For the luck to see him was now athirst.
One night before that idol she lay,
To worship which had been ever her way.
“O thou tow'rds whose beauty I pray,” she said:
“And in whose worship I lay down my head;
“Long with my soul to worship thee I stand.
“The jewel of my sight has left my hand.
“Look with thy own eye on my sore disgrace;
“Light to my eye again give in thy grace.
“Apart from Joseph how long must I be?
“Give me my eye that I his face may see.
“I have at any time, in any place,
“But one desire, and that to see his face.
“As thou art able, grant me my behest;
“Give me my wish: do what to thee seems best.
“Such hardship on my soul impose not still:
“My life with such ill fortune do not fill.
“What life is this that not to be is best?
“To tread annihilation's road is best.”
Dust on her head she strewed, as thus she said,
And moistened the dust with the tears she shed.
Mounted his Eastern throne the sun one day,
And rose the sound of Joseph's piebald's neigh.
Zuleikha, as a beggar clad, appeared,
And on a narrow place stood as he neared,
After the mode of beggars, with her cry
In lamentation raised her voice on high.
On every side to the heavens there rise
“Stand out of the road,” the heralds' cries.
There falls on the ear from many a place
The neighing of horses the road that pace.
In that confusion no one saw her state.
(How she then was may no one contemplate!)
Her hopeless heart in many fragments torn,
From street of pleasure wandering forlorn,
She walked, and from her pained heart uttered cries,
And scattered round the hot fire of her sighs:
Back to her house of trouble when she came,
For each reed-handful she brought many a flame.
Out of its place then that stone idol brought,
She with tongue loosened consolation sought.
“O stone, thou of my dignity the cup,
“With stone my ev'ry road that blockest up,
“Thou to my heart dost narrow fortune's road:
“'Twere best if on that heart I stones should load.
“In worship when I fall before thy face,
“Upon a painful road myself I place.
“Each wish with weeping I from thee demand,
“And of the hope of both worlds wash my hand.
“Far from thy shame, O stone, then would I fly:
“Broken with stones thy power, thou shalt lie.”
With the hard stone she wounded, as she spoke,
And like the friend of God the idol broke.
She broke the idol in her active mood,
And in good order thence her matters stood.
And when in breaking she had done her part,
With tears and blood she purified her heart.
Upon the ground she humbly rubbed her face,
And wept and wailed before the throne of Grace.
“O, thou with love who dost the wretched view,
“Idols, their worshippers and makers, too,
“Did not the image Thy own face reflect,
“Who to an idol would e'er show respect?
“With love dost Thou the idol-maker move,
“And thus his idol carving dost approve.
“Before an idol he who falls in prayer
“Will say that in the idol God is there.
“O God, to idols when I turn my face,
“'Tis on myself, O God, I bring disgrace.
“That wrong with Thy own favour pardon Thou:
“The sin that I have done oh! pardon now.
“On sin's road grievously I went astray,
“And Thou my gem of sight didst take away.
“Off me hast Thou the dust of error swept;
“Oh; now restore me that which Thou hast kept.
“Be my heart healed of the scar of regret,
“I may pluck flow'rs from Joseph's garden yet.”
And when that king of Egypt turned and went,
Once more upon his road she made lament.
“All pure is He a slave Who makes a king,
“And round his head shame's shadow, too, can bring;
“Who on the slave's head, poor and broken down,
“Of royal pomp and honour sets the crown.”
And when this found a place in Joseph's ear,
Joseph became beside himself with fear—
He told his chamberlain: “In these her prayers
“She from my soul all strength and power bears.
“Of audience bring her to my private hall,
“My friends alone where I together call,
“That I may ask a little of her woes,
“Ask of her fortune 'midst her ruin's throes.
“Since of that rosary the sound I heard,
“My heart within me wondrously is stirred.
“If to her skirt there cling not grievous pain,
“Why should her saying such influence gain?”
Two hundred souls I offer to that king,
Men's sighs or looks who can to judgment bring—
To know pure justice-seekers does not fail,
Of erring ones discerns the lying tale—
Who, as the prelude to the dawn is true,
Gives to the liar the reward that's due.
Who, of the modern days unlike the king,
In hope of gold will not excuses bring;
No tyrant looking for a piece of gold,
Who hundreds' hands beneath a stone would hold,
With gold who hundreds would to honour bring,
To whom oppression is a futile thing.

THE COMING OF ZULEIKHA TO THE HOUSE OF JOSEPH, AND REGAINING HER SIGHT, BEAUTY, AND YOUTH THROUGH HIS PRAYER.

What for a lover can there be more sweet
Than that his love with due return should meet?
Entrance when to her secret's place he gains,
When does her bosom from his load feel pains?
Tells in her ear of former days the tale,
And of her secrets sits and lifts the veil.
Of his army's bustle beyond the call,
Joseph sat down in his audience hall.
The chamberlain entered: “O thou alone
“In the world's tale who art for goodness known,
“There now stands at the door that aged dame,
“To seize thy reins upon the road that came.
“Thou didst command me: ‘Be her escort here
“‘And at the palace gate with her appear.’”
“Fulfil her wishes,” Joseph then replied;
“Be she heart-sore, a remedy provide.”
He said: “No woman of short sight is she,
“That all her wishes she should tell to me.”
“Permit her here to enter,” he replied:
“And to raise the veil that her state may hide.
Like Venus in dance, as she leave obtained,
Thus to his private room she entrance gained.
Like a smiling rosebud or blooming rose
Her smiling mouth with blessings overflows.
At her smiles as Joseph astonished gazed,
He asked her name and condition, amazed.
She said: “I am she who once saw thy face,
“And chose thee out of all the human race,
“Gems, treasures to thee devoted my whole,
“And gave for thy love my heart and my soul.
“In grief for thee I squandered youth as well,
“And into old age, as thou seest, fell.
“In thy arms that beauty, the State, has bloomed,
“And I am here to forgetfulness doomed.”
Thus who she was her words to Joseph bore,
And in compassion he lamented sore.
He said: “Zuleikha! Ah! what is thy state?
“Ah! what has come to thee through cruel Fate?”
Oblivion's wine now so inflames her heart,
Her very senses at his voice depart.
When to her senses she returned again,
This was of Joseph's questioning the strain:
“Where are thy beauty and thy youth?” he said.
“Far from thy union,” answered she, “it fled.”
“Why bent thy delicate cypress?” he asked—
“By parting's load,” she said, “'twas overtasked.”
“Why is thy eye of brightness void?” he cried.
“'Twas drowned in blood without thee,” she replied.
He asked: “Where is thy silver, where thy gold,
“The chaplet for thy head and crown of old?”
“Whoe'er of thy beauty told me,” she said,
“Poured pearls of thy praises upon my head;
“Head and gold offered at his feet I poured,
“The jewels I gave were his due reward.
“My crown of glory I placed on his head,
“And his gate's dust wore as my crown instead.
“No gold or silver is left in my hand:
“My heart is love's treasure, and here I stand.”
He said: “To-day what dost thou ask for? say,
“Who for thy needs will be surety to-day?”
“At my needs,” she said, “is troubled thy soul,
“But thou for those needs art the surety sole.
“With an oath if thou my surety wilt be,
“I will loosen my tongue and speak to thee.
“But if not my lip on the tale shall close,
“And I must suffer yet more grief and woes.”
Generosity's mine he then swore by,
That pillar architect of prophecy.²⁵¹
For whom bloomed tulips and sweet herbs from flame,
To whom from God the robe of friendship came;
“Whatever wish thou show to me to-day,
“I will fulfil with speed, if so I may.”
She answered: “First my beauty and my youth,
“As thou hast seen and knowest is the truth;
“To see thee next my eyesight would I seek,
“And pluck a rose from garden of thy cheek.”
At once then Joseph moved his lip in prayer,
And from his lips poured out life's water there.
On her dead charms the breath of life he breathed,
And round her cheek auspicious fortune wreathed.
Her water gone he to its river led,
And thus refreshed of youth her roses' bed.
Her camphor musk became of Tartar deer,
And her dark night through her morn's dawn grew clear,
From her musk locks then disappeared the white,
Her dark Narcissus beamed again with light.
From her rose-cypress the bend disappeared,
And from her pure silver the wrinkles cleared.
A halo round her age her youth was seen,
From forty years old she became eighteen.
Her beauty changed to a loveliness rare,
Than in former days she became more fair.
Joseph again said: “Thou of nature sweet,
“What more may be thy wish to me repeat.”
She said: “I have no other wish than this,
“That I may rest me in thy union's bliss:
“That thou shouldst be aye in my sight by day,
“At night on thy foot my head I may lay;
“Of thy cypress tall in the shade may lean,
“From thy smiling lip I may sugar glean;
“May lay a plaster on my heart of pain,
“And in all matters my desire may gain;
“Whilst over my field, now withered and dead,
“From thy friendship's fountain may water spread.”
When Joseph had heard the hope she expressed,
In silence awhile with head on his breast,
He answered her with neither “yes” nor “no”,
Its purpose that the unseen world might show.
Will, no-will between he was wavering,
Till he heard the sound of Gabriel's wing.
This message he spoke: “O reverend king,
“From the pure God to thee I greeting bring.
“I have seen Zuleikha's humility,
“I have heard her piteous prayer to thee.
“From her wave-exciting weakness and toil
“Has my forgiveness' sea begun to boil
“Unwounded with sword of despair her mind,
“Upon the throne thy knot with hers I bind.
“Tie thou her knot that may for aye endure;
“Unloose those knots that now her way obscure.
“That thou in pure regard with her mayst be,
“And from this union pearls of offspring see.”

THE MARRIAGE OF ZULEIKHA WITH JOSEPH BY THE COMMAND OF GOD THE MOST HIGH (GLORY BE TO HIM), AND THE WEDDING NIGHT.

When God's commandment Joseph knew aright
That with Zuleikha he should now unite,
Foundation for a royal feast he laid,
And for the banquet preparation made.
The king of Egypt with his nobles all,
Seated on honour's seat, came at his call.
By Abram's law and faith that Jacob knew,
In perfect manner and mode fair to view,²⁵³
He bound Zuleikha with his marriage knot,
That precious jewel into union brought.
From crescent to full moon were offerings laid,
Congratulations king and army made.
Short-comings to excuse did Joseph rise,
And to those present made apologies.
Zuleikha, at his questionings content,
Forthwith was to his private chamber sent.
Then ran before her every serving maid,
Both coronet and head before her laid.
Exulting ever in her beauty rare
Gold robes for her adornment they prepare.²⁵⁴
And when men's bustle gave to quiet place,
Tow'rds their own home when all had turned their face,
The moon bride on her face a dark veil bound,
And spread a golden curtain on the ground.
For victory upon the azure height
The earth lit up with stars a shining light.
Heav'n in the sky the Pleiads' cluster hung;
Rubies and pearls together twilight strung.
For the world's secret veil night's hair provides;
Within that screen a world its secrets hides.
Consorts together then their secret place,
Closed with an amber veil to others' face.
In her own veil Zuleikha sitting waits,
Her heart within her body palpitates.
“This thirsty one with tears whose eyelids gleam,
“Is she awake, O God, or in a dream?
“Will water ever, then, this thirst allay?
“Will from this heart the fever pass away?”
At times there filled her eye the joyous tear,
At times 'twas blood from disappointment's fear.
At times she said: “I can not yet be sure
“That days of gladness will for me endure.”
At times she said: “God's grace belongs to all,
“From God's grace hopeless it were wrong to fall.”
Her heart in tumult with such thoughts as these
Happy at times, at times but ill at ease.
Sudden before the door the curtain rose,
A veil-less moon within it to disclose.
As fell Zuleikha's eye upon that sight,
She saw it ever with increased delight.
Unconscious she became when rose that day,
In sunlight darkness' shadow passed away.
That faith and lovingness when Joseph knew,
That madness that to him alone was due.
Her to the throne of gold he kindly led,
And made his breast a pillow for her head.
With his own scent did he her sense redeem,
And brought her back awake from her sweet dream.
If on that face which erst had shunned his eye,
His heart for long had passed with loathing by,
When on her face again his glance he threw,
As Chinese pictures on brocade to view,
Sweet as a Huris' face to loving heart,
With cheek unadorned by tire-woman's art,
Then when his eye found its rest on her face,
The reins drew him on to kiss and embrace.

* * * * * * *

CONCERNING THE COMMUNICATION OF ZULEIKHA'S LOVE TO JOSEPH, AND HIS RUNNING AFTER HER AND TEARING HER ROBE, AND THE FOUNDING OF A HOUSE OF WORSHIP.

Lovers the road of love who purely tread
At last will earn the name of “loved” instead.
With the pure flame of love who ever burned,
From lover into loved that was not turned?
Zuleikha, who in love was pure as day,
And in love equally life passed away,
When in her infancy with dolls she played,
Herself their friend in love affairs she made.
When she engaged herself in any game,
“The game of love,” it always was the same.
And when to play two dolls she might prepare,
One was the lover, one the loved one there.
Her right hand from her left when first she knew,
And to sit down or rise more forward grew,
In that sweet dream her wakeful fortune brought,
In Joseph's love snare she at once was caught.
From her own country she withdrew her heart,
And to the land of Egypt would depart.
Not for her own, but only Joseph's sake,
From her own town to his her way she'd take.
In thought of him her precious youth she passed,
In hope his union she might gain at last.
In age into desire for him she fell,
And into blindness for his love as well.
And when in age her sight and youth returned,
With love of that fair face her soul still burned.
Thenceforward in his love would she abide,
And in his faith's bond aye she lived and died.
Since her sincerity all limits passed,
To Joseph its contagion spread at last.
And Joseph's heart affection so inflamed,
That of such love his heart became ashamed.
Over his heart that charmer gained such pow'r
He could not be without her for an hour.
To please her so her heart he wandered round,
That the two ever face to face were found.
He watered so her field of joy indeed,
Of water every moment there was need.
When thus through him Zuleikha's veil was rent,
The sun of truth his ray towards her bent.
That sun upon her with such fury smote,
That Joseph vanished in it as a mote.
And in that crucible of love profane
Her days were ever passed in melting's pain.
But when the sun of righteousness arose
There was before her nothing to oppose.
Of truth the blandishment upon her lay,
From all that was not right she fled away.
One night from Joseph's hand in haste she fled,
And limping to obtain release she sped.
Behind he seized her garment as she flew,
And by his hand her robe was rent in two.
Zuleikha said to him: “In days of yore
“Thy robe from off thy body once I tore.
“Thou hast my garment now from off me torn,
“And I my crime's just punishment have borne.
“Of right and wrong I now no longer fear;
“In tearing robes we both stand equal here.”
Tow'rds piety when Joseph saw her bent,
And towards that purpose her heart fully leant,
Of gold he built for her a palace there,
No house of pleasure, but a house of prayer.
Like heaven's azure vault its bricks in glow,
Through art its ground as Paradise below.
From floor to roof this handsome paintings fill;
Geometricians spend there all their skill.
Out of its windows shone forth fortune's light,
And from its doors wealth's herald took his flight.
Far from its terrace evil eye he sent!
Like Huri's eyebrows were its arches bent.
The sun its source in its light's image made,
The house in it impervious to shade.
From painters' happy brush there came to view
In the walls' date-groves many trees that grew.
And on each branch there many a bird reposed,
But to melodious song their beaks were closed.
Within that house a glorious throne was laid,
A part of gold, a part of rubies made.
Two hundred pictures rare were in it hung,
And thousands of fair pearls were in it strung.
He took her hand, and as the throne he graced
Her, too, with heart's affection on it placed.
He said: “O thou endowed with many a grace,
“Till Judgment Day thou bringest me disgrace,
“For in the day thou calledst me a slave,
“Thy favour even then a dwelling gave.
“Of rubies made, of red and yellow gold,
“Full of all beauty that a house might hold.
“And now, reward for all thy favours rare,
“I built at thy advice this house of prayer.
“In thankfulness to God sit ever there;—
“Thou owest thanks to God in ev'ry hair.
“He gave thee riches after poverty,
“And after old age gave He youth to thee.
“The eye that had gone He gave light once more,
“Before thy face He opened mercy's door.
“The age when sorrow He has made thee taste
“With union's antidote has He replaced.”
Zuleikha also through the Heavenly Grace,
Upon the royal throne thus took her place.
In that seclusion made her glad abode,
Through Joseph's union and the Grace of God.

THE SEEING BY JOSEPH OF HIS FATHER AND MOTHER IN A DREAM, AND ASKING FOR HIS OWN DEATH FROM GOD.

Well done for whom his mournful state
Changes to union's hall propitious Fate.
His arms round fortune's beauteous idol close;
He parting's grief into oblivion throws,—
And when grief's dust his heart no longer sees,
Passes his days in happiness and ease.
Sudden the wind of ruin he may know,
And the Simoom of separation blow:
Its way to union's garden then it makes,
And of the tree of hope the branches breaks.
Her hope Zuleikha had from Joseph gained,
And in his union lasting ease obtained.
In joy of heart and mind she lived indeed,
And from the griefs of this world had been freed.
Thus did for many days her union last,
And in that bliss full forty years had passed,
That fruitful palm its fruit would aye renew
In children, nay, in children's children, too,
There was no earthly wish within her heart,
To her hope's table that would not impart.
Joseph one night towards the Mehráb lay;
Sleep's robber stopped of wakefulness the way.
He saw his father with his mother sit:
Their sunny face with veil of light was lit.
They cried to him: “Be thou aware, O son,—
“The days of absence hasten to be done.
“Thy feet on earthly clay and water place,
“To the soul's goal and home thy way to trace.”
From the Mehráb then Joseph took his way,
From dream awoke, to where Zuleikha lay.
His dream's full tale he told into her ear,
And to her quickly made his purpose clear.
The dream-like thought of absence he instilled;
Her soul with fire of separation filled.
From his own way the heart of Joseph ceased,
His longing for the eternal realms increased.
Out of the straits of lust his steps he bent,
And tow'rds the amplitude of myst'ries leant.
From earth he bore his mortal goods away,
And to th' eternal Mehráb turned to pray.
“O Thou who grantest the poor man's desire,
“And makest with a crown the lofty high'r,
“Who fortune's crown upon my head hast placed,
“The fortunate with which were never graced;—
“My heart is raised up from this transient land:
“The reins of government gives up my hand.
“Freed from myself, thy own road to me show,
“A mandate for th' eternal world bestow.
“The righteous who the road of faith pursued,
“To them near Thee high station has accrued.
“Among the common count me not below;
“At Thy high table nearness may I know!”
And when Zuleikha heard this secret word,
With smarting wound her inmost heart was stirred.
She surely knew that to his prayer from heaven,
A clear and speedy answer would be given.
No arrow from that bow e'er went away
To reach its aim, that ever knew delay.
To narrow hut she entered void of light,
Spread out her ringlets of the hue of night;
From grief of parting wreathed her head with dust,
Whilst on the ground her bleeding face she thrust.
Her joy and grief at odds and evens played,
And as the tears rained from her eyes, she said:
“O medicine of grief for those who mourn,
“Mender of robes for all whose hearts are torn,
“The aim of those themselves who hopeless find,
“Opening a way for those the ‘six doors’ bind;
“The key by which closed doors asunder part,
“The bandage-tier of the broken heart,
“Saver of those whom sorrow casts away,
“Light'ner of woes as hills that heavy weigh;
“A captive to my wounded heart, I bleed,
“And am much straitened in my every deed.
“In Joseph's absence must I ever pine.
“Oh! with his life take from my body mine!
“Without his beauty life to me no gain,
“In realm of being would I not remain.
“My life without him is a leafless tree;
“Eternal life without him death to me.
“Right by the laws of faith 'twould not appear,
“If I were still on earth and he not here.
“If his companion here I may not stay,
“Oh! first take me and then bear him away.
“Apart from him I do not wish to sit,
“Or see a world not by his beauty lit.”
Weeping in grief her time thus passed away,
Nor night to her was night, nor day was day.
Whosever heart may be with sorrow tight,
To him of one hue are both day and night.

THE DEATH OF JOSEPH AND THE DESTRUCTION OF ZULEIKHA THROUGH SEPARATION FROM HIM.

Next day, when Joseph in the early morn,
When from day's grace to all hearts joy is borne,
Arrayed himself in robes of royal pride,
And came outside with the intent to ride,
When in the stirrup one foot he had placed,
Said Gabriel to him: “Make no further haste.
“From deadly fate no surety canst thou gain,
“In other stirrup that thy foot remain.
“From hope and safety now draw back thy rein,
“And from life's stirrup now thy foot restrain.”
When Joseph's ear now these good tidings knew,
Glad from this being he his heart withdrew.
His skirt of courage gladly he spread wide,
And of his realm's heirs called one to his side.
King of that land in his own stead he willed,
Into his heart all excellence instilled.
Again he said, “Call ye Zuleikha here:
“To bid me now farewell let her appear.”
They said: “In sorrow's hand is she a prize;
“In blood and dust now overwhelmed she lies.
“Her grieving soul this load could never bear.
“Leave her alone in thy great pity there.”
He said: “I fear the scar of this great debt
“Till Judgment Day will lie upon her yet.”
They said to him: “God give her joy at length;
“In resignation ever be her strength!”
In Gabriel's hand there was an apple borne,
That Eden's grove with beauty would adorn.
In Joseph's hand as he the apple placed,
He smelt it and gave up his soul in haste.
Of life's fair garden as he knew the scent,
He with that perfume to life's garden went.
As Joseph yielded to that scent his soul
Burst from those present cries beyond control.
And as the voice of weeping went on high,
The sound rose upwards to the azure sky.
Zuleikha said: “What is this noise and cry,
“Resounding loud throughout the earth and sky?”
“That king of prosp'rous fortune,” then they said:
“From throne towards the bier has turned his head.
“To this world's narrow house he bids good bye,
“And makes his new abode above the sky.”
She heard these words and was of sense bereft,
And the bright light of sense her body left.
That active cypress at this dismal ale
Fell on the ground three days a shadow pale.
On the fourth day awoke from dreams at last,
Hearing, into unconsciousness she passed.
Three times three days she all unconscious lay,
With burning heart passed from her sense away.
On the fourth day when she returned to sense,
To ask for Joseph she would first commence.
Upon the pillow he no more reclined,
Nor on the earth his coffin could she find.
And she of him these tidings only found:
As treasure they had laid him in the ground.
At first as cruel fate her onwards bore,
As the pure dawn her collar then she tore.
Then with that fire at heart that hidden lay,
From that torn collar opened out a way.
Thus in her soul that fire would never cease,
But every moment farther would increase.
Holes in her fair cheeks with her nails she tore,
And made a river for her fount of gore,
That from that fountain flowed each stream within:
Arghván's bride-chamber made the jessamine.
With nail on rosy cheek she drew a line,
As vein through brilliant eyeballs coursing fine.
Upon her breast with stone she struck a blow;
And her fair cheek with many a slap would glow.
On silver there the fresh cornelian grew;
From this the tulip took the lotus' hue.
To her own head she raised her hand again,
And on that tender head inflicted pain.
The garden cypress of its green bereft,
The spikenard plucked, the grove was empty left.
Moaning in soul and with a heartfelt cry
From a sad breast she raised her voice on high:
“Oh! where is Joseph who adorned the throne,
“Who ever to the poor has mercy shown?
“When he on narrow steed the saddle tied,²⁵⁵
“And to the everlasting realm would ride;
“Such eager haste did he display in this,
“That even I his stirrup could not kiss.
“When from this vault of grief he went away,
“I was not present ‘Why dost go?’ to say.
“I saw no head that on his couch he threw,
“Nor gathered from his wild-rose face the dew.
“When that fierce wound upon his breast was seen,
“His back upon my breast he could not lean.
“From throne when on the bier he lay at rest,
“That bier by fortune as the throne was blessed.
“Rose-water from my eye I did not seek,
“Nor with that water did I wash his cheek.
“When on his body they the shroud had tied,
“And in his burial were occupied,
“Ropes I had never learnt the art to reeve,
“That sewn on him my thin form I might leave.
“When in my heart they broke of grief the thorn,
“And from this earthly stage his load was borne,
“So full of tuneless melody my tongue
“As bell upon his litter was not hung.
“When in the earth his place of sleep they found,
“And laid him as a rare pearl in the ground,
“The ground above, below, I did not sweep,
“Nor in his arms, as I desired, could sleep.
“Alas for this sad injury! Alas!
“Alas for this terrific grief! Alas!
“Come, my heart's wish: my disappointment see!
“On me oppress'd of heav'n the tyranny!
“Cut off from thee, nor in thy memory had,
“Thou didst not with thy presence make me glad.
“O faithful one, was this good faith in thee?
“Tow'rds friends should this the form of friendship be?
“Why, then, didst thou reject me from thy heart?
“In dust and blood why throw me and depart?
“Thou brokest in my heart a wondrous thron,
“Which from my clay alone can forth be borne.
“Thou didst prepare to travel to a place,
“Whence backwards no one ever turns his face.
“It would be better now to spread my wing,
“And in one flight myself to thee to bring.”
She spoke, and called her litter-bearers there,
And bade her litter for herself prepare,
And with one movement from that grief's abode,
To Joseph's halting-stage on earth she rode.
There of her jewel pure no sign she found,
Only a heap of moist earth on the ground.
That sunny foot, her face upon the mound,
Threw down herself like shadow on the ground—
A golden shade from her pale cheek she threw,
And tinged it with her tears with ruby's hue.
At times the foot she kissed, at times the head;
“Oh! and alas is me!” she cried and said.
“Thou hast gone down, as in the earth the rain,
“Whilst I as thorns and rubbish here remain.
“Like rose's root thou hidest in the mud,
“Whilst I as rose-branch am above and bud.
“Thou hast in earth as treasure found thy place,
“And I, gem-weighing cloud, am on its face.
“Upon my dust blood-waves thy image throws,—
“Through parting fire upon my rubbish glows.
“On my life's rubbish hast thou cast a flame:
“My smoke, thence curling, up to heaven came.
“None ever opened eye upon my smoke,
“That water from his eye did not evoke.”
Thus did she wail, and aye her wounded breast
With hundred griefs upon the earth she pressed.
And when her grief beyond all limit went,
To kiss the earth her head she lowly bent;
Up to her eyes her finger then she bore,
And her two eye-balls from their sockets tore.
From her head's cup these in his dust she pressed,
And said: “To sow narcissus were it best.
“When thy rose-face my eyes no more may see,
“Of what use in this world are eyes to me?”
Of those o'erwhelmed with grief it is the way
Upon the coffin almonds black to lay,
But as that wretch his coffin could not view,
But two black almonds on his grave she threw.
She laid her blood-stained face upon the grave;
Kissed the dust humbly and her spirit gave.
Happy that lover is who when he dies,
In hope of union with his loved one lies!
Then when her state her own companions knew,
Out of their hearts the loud lament they drew.
For ev'ry sigh that she on Joseph spent,
Two hundred times for her did they lament.
They made lament as hired mourners cry,
For that fair silver form, exceedingly.
Now as the sound of mourning grows more cold,
Their sleeves together they to wash her fold.
They wash her with the tear-flood of their eyes,
As wash the rose-leaves clouds in summer skies.
Like bud that from a branch of jess'mine grows,
In shroud of verdure they her form enclose.
They clean the dust of parting from her face,
And in the earth by Joseph's side they place.
None in his death such bliss may ever gain,
That his love's company he should obtain.

But the wise man who this sweet tale relates,
Which he has heard from ancient people, states.
That on the bank of Nile, he will attest,
Wherever Joseph's pure form lay to rest,
Famine and plague there opposite arose,
In place of favours evil's many blows.
One counsel when at last they all embraced,
In a stone coffin they his body placed.
With pitch they closed up of the stone each chink,
And in Nile's bottom let the coffin sink.
Behold the trick performed by faithless Fate,
Her dead from Joseph thus to separate.
What spite it bore to them I cannot say,
Thus to disturb their rest beneath the clay.
The one of them in friendship's sea was drowned,
On separation's land one thirsting found.
How well said he whose feet in love were sore,
Who gain and loss from love no longer bore:
Love at what place its market brisk may be,
It can from unrest never once be free.
A lover's shroud at length it rends away,
Though he himself be sleeping 'neath the clay.
Happy the lover who in absence dead,
To his love's bridal-room his soul has led.
No one can say that with such courage high,
Men in their shrouds can as Zuleikha²⁵⁶ lie.
All but one love she from her eye withdrew,
And then life's cash upon his dust she threw.
A thousand graces on her soul and body be,
And by her love her soul enlightened be!

REBUKE OF HEAVEN, WHICH HAVING TWISTED ITS FOLDS LIKE A SNAKE ROUND THE WORLD, AND HAVING BROUGHT ALL WITHIN THE CIRCLE OF ITS DOMINION, INFLICTS A WOUND ON ONE AND GIVES POISON TO ANOTHER.

The heaven 's a dragon on itself that turns,
In plaguing us to prove its strength that burns.
All captive in its curling folds are we:
How from its tail shall we be ever free?
Thou seest no one that it does not wound,
And out of hundreds none has mercy²⁵⁷ found.
For its oppression no one may avoid,
What breast has this oppressor not annoyed?
In the bright lamp that shines in every star,
On the free heart it aye inflicts a scar.
A thousand scars and not a plaster there,
Yet for this want of salve it has no care.
And there are seen in every gloomy night
A thousand windows in the world of light;
What profit, since on us there falls no gleam,
And on our minds contentment does not beam?
Like lions, it is single-hued by day,
At night a tiger's colours 'twill display,
Except to be oppressed what is our plight
When the day-lion tiger grows at night?
'Tis fit that at our bitter joy I should be grieved,
With lion and with tiger that I am deceived.
From any one who now may be thy friend
In parting surely thy affair must end.
Constant revolved this²⁵⁸ vault of heaven green,
In movement moon and sun and stars were seen,
Till all the elements together mixed,
And in a net the soul's bird was fixed.
But this unhappy bird had not as yet
The grain of its desire picked from the net,
When broke the elements each other's chain,
And to its prime source each returned again.
Then must the bird, with bleeding heart, remain
Far from its nest, no water and no grain.
Look on the circling sphere and ardent sun;
For malice they display they shame have none.
Few to their love²⁵⁹ like morn their hearts have bound
As twilight red with blood that are not found.
He its banquet who awhile no grief has borne,
For ages long through it occasion had to mourn.
Tread for awhile in spring the garden's bound,
And look upon the streams that flow around:—
Why has the bud its vest asunder thrust?
Why does the green herb basely lie in dust?
Why is the rose's garment torn apart,
Flames in its mouth and full of sparks its heart?
The graceful cypress who, then, has thrown down?
And who the Arghaván in blood would drown?
Why is the fading spikenard sad to view?
Why filled Narcissus' eye with tears of dew?
The mourning violet is clad in blue;²⁶⁰
The tulip washed has scars of bloody hue.
The fir, with heart in many pieces split,
In holes the sun's sword has its body slit.
The rose-bush, back and face, by roses is full scarred,—
Torn by its cruel nail the jess'mine cheek is marred.
Trees in the breeze are mournful dancing still;
The birds' pathetic chant from hill to hill.
The turtle-dove coos ev'rywhere away,
“Where in the world is rest?” as if 'twould say.
“Happy is he,” the nightingales in thousands mourn,
“Who from this garden has but little sorrow borne.”
And by its collar is the dove's neck chained,
Whence freedom ever no head has obtained.
The world and its fair spring thus dost thou see;
Now of its autumn warning take from me.
See of the autumn wind the breath so cold,
Of its vine-leaves the yellow face behold.
Of parting's anguish is this bitter air
That severs friend from friend and pair from pair.
With parting's grief that cheek is pale to see,
For after nearness distance must there be.
Of loveliness and hue the garden shorn,
The black clothed crow has thither come to mourn.
The nakedness of ev'ry branch must show
Beneath the peacock's tail the foot of crow.
From the wild rose's head the veil has fallen down;
The elm has lost its tent-like covering and crown.
Pomegranates their heads' crown have cast below,
From which the garden old fresh youth may know.
Its heart although thou see with laughter thrill,
Blood with a hundred sparks it aye will fill.
Fairer the garden's maiden bare to view,
Than when her beauty's clothed in yellow hue,
Than when her paling cheek 's begrimed with dust,
And from her lovers she afar is thrust,
When the keen frost the water's face with harshness binds,
Cuirass to weave the wind the way no longer finds.
Ravished by frost's cold hand thou seest the plane;
The grove thou hearest of the cold complain.
From fear of cold thyself dost thou not dare
From the bough's sleeve thy hand to render bare.
Such is earth's autumn, aye, and such its spring,
One than the other a more grievous thing.
In grief's abode can one live free of grief,
And can a withered heart ere find relief?
Upon the earth a trace of joy is not,
Or should there be, it is in no man's lot.
Fill not thy head with blandishments of friends,
For all men's fortune in misfortune ends.
No hope of gladness let thy heart retain,
No thought of freedom linger in thy brain.
With unfulfilled hope's scar contented be;
Beneath the yoke of service still be free.
From all with pleasure that thy heart may bind,
Or with its love that may attract thy mind,
Thou wilt be severed full of grief at last,
And thou must taste its parting's pain at last.
Loosen thy hand; break from thy foot the chain;
Undo the bond of what can bring no gain.
For if thou loose it not, He who has bound.
With open hand to break it will be found.
Thou sleep'st the sleep of carelessness, and He
Sudden will take what He bestowed on thee,—
With harshness bring thy foot against a stone,—
In longing's plain will leave the lame alone.
In longing's place seize thou thy staff in hand,
To thee when lame as courser it may stand.
Branch from its root when a fresh wind shall tear,
Not with dry sticks can one its ties repair.
With force it loosed the power of thy grasp,
Seized that desire's cash that thy hand did clasp.
Tow'rds all thou stretchest out thy hand of greed,
But in thy hand will nothing e'er succeed.
When leaves thy hand the power of its strength,
With that hand's force pain not thyself at length.
The coin of brightness from thy eye is gone;
Why blindly Surma dost thou still rub on?
Thy eye has not the quality of sight:
Rub Surma only on the eye that's light.
To blindness' utter straits reduced the eye,
In glasses²⁶¹ canst thou find a remedy?
With silver Síns as thy mouth's Mím is fair to view.
As Lab with Lám and Bá they number thirty-two.²⁶²
But in that string has such a breach occurred,
That of a greater none has ever heard.
Silent art thou or dost in folly speak,
In lips a cov'ring for it dost thou seek.
As thou art harsh sometimes and sometimes weak,
In this a hundred failures are to seek.
Thou see'st thy failures from a single place;
In one event thou findest out their trace.
What in thy body or thy soul may lack,
On doubt of earthly things thou fallest back.
This of thyself thou wouldest never say,
That He who gave can also take away.
In this world thou art far too tightly pent:
To reach another hast thou no intent?
Another world than this dost thou not know,
Whence benefit or loss must surely flow?
I fear that when thy death comes on the scene,
Thou wilt not care thy heart from earth to wean.
With spirit full of many kinds of doubt,
Thou from the world wilt pass ignobly out.
When fate's cup-bearer hands death's cup to thee,
Still tow'rds this desert will thy liking be.

* * * * * * *

[The next four Couplets, which are not translated here, contain an anecdote of the physician Galen, omitted in Rosenzweig's edition, which are untranslatable for their obscenity, and quite incomprehensible to Europeans.]

To that heart-cheering dome prepare a way;
To-morrow's pleasure shalt thou see to-day.
Does it, then, never come into thy mind
To see the state thou in the world mayst find?
Earth's leather 's ever a foot-pinching shoe,
With many sand-like hardships in it, too.
From off thy foot 'twere best it to remove,
Else with hurt foot the road thou mayest prove.
Lift up heav'n's curtain from before thy face;
Henceforth be not forbid the holy place.
Beyond the veil there is unbounded light,
Each beam of which is sun-like in delight.
In that beam let thy ev'ry hope be lost;
And like an atom in the sun be tossed.
Once lost in it, thou then shalt find release;
And parting's pain and absence' grief shall cease.

GIVING ADVICE AND IMPOSING BONDS ON HIS BELOVED SON THAT HE SHOULD BE ZEALOUS IN ACQUIRING PERFECTION.

May God, my noble son, thy refuge be!
The Lord from evil thy protection be!
From all advice may He such gain bestow,
That in need's time to use it thou mayst know—
Thy years are sev'n, while sev'nty is my score:
Thy fortune is approaching, mine 's no more.
I grieve for what has vanished of my day,
Mourn years, moons, weeks, that all have passed away.
To any profit now I cannot till,
And only thorns my rose produces still.
The thing has left my hand: what profit now remains?
Out of my hand have slipped of my free-will the reins.
Thou hast the means; an effort should be made,
That fortune on thy head may make a shade.
Do thou such things as may of lasting profit be,
That rain of generosity may rain on thee.
First make thy gain all wisdom to acquire;
From folly's careless town do thou retire.
For it is known to all, both slave and free,
Whilst the fool dies, the wise will living be.
To excellence he who a claim may make,
How with the dead will he his dwelling take?
Plant thou thy foot of wisdom in the way;
Knowledge endureth long, while life 's a day.
When thou hast knowledge gained, thyself to deeds devote;
Wisdom without deed's poison without antidote.
What gain from alchemy that thou mayst learn,
To gold thy copper if thou canst not turn?
When through thy deeds the robe thou mayst assume
Of honour, this with purity perfume.
For ev'ry act of purity that 's bare,
But crude work those who are mature declare;
And from crude actions none can profit gain,
As uncooked sweetmeats can bring only pain.
Though thou art true and pure, beware thou yet:
A hundred dangers may truth's road beset.
For back and belly ease do not prepare,
Nor for good food or clothing practise care.
To ward off heat and cold is raiment worn:
A man cares not himself much to adorn.
And if to clothing coarse thou shouldst resort,
Like hedgehog's thorn, 'gainst evil 'tis thy fort.
In mildness fox-like if thou takest pride,
Those of dogs' nature will tear off thy hide.
Do not, like flies, seek after what is sweet,
For in the end the honey clogs thy feet.
Drink thou the bitter of this cruel sea,
Till, oyster-like, with pearls filled thou shalt be.
Thy fingers at whose board thou mayst stain,
Make of thy hand no fist to give him pain.
When for thy food thou hast made use of salt,
With the salt-cellar do not thou find fault.
With bounteous hand on friends thy favours lay;
Set not thy foot on miser's narrow way.
Take no half hab bah²⁶³, nor to any lend;
Debt is a scissors that will cut a friend.
With presents do thou aye their burdens bear,
Nor drive them with their debts into despair.
Yet in bestowing gifts thy foot so set
That on thy own neck fall no load of debt.
Life as an offering for thy friends bestow,
But do thou well discern thy friend from foe.
That friend of God alone should be thy friend,
To whose heart friendship a clear light may lend.
Thy load he'll bear when thou oppressed shalt be,
And be thy aid when mischief threatens thee;
Who in bad times himself thy hand will meet;
With counsel's water who will quench thy heat.
When from defilement he shall make thee free,
Pure as a hair from leaven render thee:
In ev'ry good work thee with aid provide,
And to the street of good name be thy guide.
Win thou his dust, if such a friend thou find,
Thyself a captive to his saddle bind.
Or else towards the wall thy own face bend;
Leave strangers; of the cave²⁶⁴ be thy own friend.
Let not time's sorrows ever trouble thee,
And in the world's griefs sit thou calm and free.
Make not of many occupations much;
In worldly business keep with One in touch.
Be it by day or in night's darkness dim,
At ev'ry house still stay thy heart on Him.
Though this good fortune never to thee came,
Of idleness incur thou not the shame.
Thy face tow'rds books be from this workshop brought,
And practise ever upon books thy thought.
This subtle thought is well known of the wise:
“Books hold the learnèd in his grave who lies.”
A book in a lone corner 's aye a friend:
To wisdom's dawn a book will brightness lend.
A book 's a master without thanks or pay;
To thee it ever opens learning's way.
A pithy friend, who will thy faults conceal,
Who tells thee secrets, yet will ne'er reveal.
As bud its inside is with leaves replete,
Whose price would with a plate of pearls compete.
Its litter is of coloured leather made,
In which as vest two hundred flow'rs are laid.
All cheeks of musk, each fold in gold's embrace,
And delicately laid there face to face.
All of one hue, of equal back and face.
On their lip finger when can any place?
To utter jests their lips they open wide,
Shed thousand gems of mystery beside.
The Koran's mysteries at times they tell,
And of the Prophet's sayings speak as well.
At times as those whose hearts are pure, are they
With lights of truth aye pointing out the way;
And when at times in current phrase they speak,
Point to the lore and science of the Greek.
At times they tell the story of the past,
Or what will henceforth be before thee cast.
At times they pour from the poetic sea
In wisdom's breast their pearls of mystery.
Towards whatever aim thy ear thou set,
Never the aim thou hadst at first forget.
Towards this if fully thou turn not thy face,
Thy foot at least no other road should trace.
Ere of thy heart the secret thou shalt tell,
First of its good and evil ponder well.
When from its cage the bird has taken wing
To bring it back is not an easy thing.
With thy heart black through love of pinchbeck gold,
Be wisdom's praises by thy tongue untold.
Though wisdom be as slender as a hair,
With the heart black what does it profit there?
Make not a Sufi immature thy friend;
Crude is the work of crude men in the end.
The way of perfect work they do not know,
Crudely thy fruit upon the ground they throw;
And from its stem this fruit, when cut away,
Remains unripe until the Judgment Day.
Thy hand devoid of silver and of gold,
Let one of kindly feeling only hold.
When in his hand thy willing hand is placed,
With blessing's treasure it will soon be graced.
Canst thou, like Isa, sleep without a mate,
Surrender not for naught thy single state.
Far from thy eye the dream of rest to keep
Were better than in Huris' arms to sleep,—
Better on furnace ashes hot to lie
Than on soft pillow with a woman by.
If suddenly thou fear the sense of lust,
Thy foot on to the plain of sin may thrust,
'Gainst marrying place on thy foot a chain,
So that it move not from its place again.
With this end if thou strike a woman's door,
See not her beauty, but her virtue more.
She who from chastity is red of cheek
Need for her face no other colour seek.
In that adornment she has Huris' grace,
That from forbidden things she hides her face.
Nearness to monarchs is a flaming fire,
Before it, like the smoke, do thou retire.
When once the fire the torch's flame has lit,
But from afar do thou make use of it.
If thou too near approach, I greatly fear
The light of thy own life will disappear.
Place not thy feet 'mongst those of high degree,
To raise or lower lest a mark thou be.
To rest upon that couch be not unwise,
Lest some one seize thy hand and bid thee rise.
From place to want of office turn thy face:
Than office better far is want of place.
Be ev'ry thought of thine devoid of pride,
Tow'rds ev'ry one humility should be thy guide.
From pride does not preserve itself the ear,
And thus its head the scythe will quickly shear.
A humble place the grain in dust will seek,
And from the dust the bird will raise it in its beak.
After the seat of worth do thou aspire,
Than lofty head esteem thou honour high'r.
See how the masses lose their fortune high,
As ciphers more they add to reckon by.
No promise make, but if thou promise, pay;
Avoid thou of unfaithfulness the way.
From that God being's favour who bestows,
The call “Perform your promises” arose.
Like fools, rest thou not in thy father's bond:
Be merit's son;—thy father pass beyond.
Since light the smoke can from the flame not be,
What profits it the son of fire to be?
Except in private mention not his name,
He is well pleased to hear thy virtue's fame.
Should counsel a wise counsellor impart,
Wisely make room for it within thy heart;—
Not like the fool who hears but with one ear,
And through the other lets it disappear.
The corn sprouts from the dust but with delay;
No drop becomes a jewel in a day.
By no one has this proverb not been heard:
“If one is in the house, enough 's one word.”
Its mighty movement should the sea provoke,
What matters of the senseless frog the croak?
Of this false world 'twere best within the cell
To work, within thee that God's grace should dwell.

A TALK WITH REGARD TO HIMSELF, AND ADVANCING HIM FROM THE LOW GROUND OF SELFISHNESS TO THE SUMMIT OF MAGNANIMITY.

Turn, Jámi, to the work of ripened men:
Never hereafter do crude work again.
What is it to be ripe? But to be free,
In non-existence' dust to fallen be.
In this rust-coloured vault dost thou not see,
Whilst it is green the fruit clings to the tree?
To ripeness when is turned its face, 'twill fall,
Nor the boys' cruel stone require at all.
Do thou from right men's board thy food provide,—
And stand from the crude slingers' stones aside.
Tear with content up avarice's root;
With resignation break of thy desire the shoot.
Built thee a house of courage in the town;
In Anká's solitude thy rest lay down.
Let loose no tongue to glorify the base;
Incur not for a loaf²⁶⁵ the viles' disgrace.
From heads of kingdoms do thou ever flee,
And turn thy back on all the pow'rs that be.
The seasons four in order due behold,
In which the course of time is onwards rolled.
Last year's and this year's spring both equal see.
And how both autumns in their hue agree.
Summer and winter both will intervene,
And thou canst see no difference between.
I know not why in this recurring state,
At such revolving thou shouldst be elate.
In repetition though thou magic find,
It must bring melancholy to the mind.
Pass by the loss and look towards the gain;
To non-existence turn from life again.
Thy mind from works of busy men make free;
From demons' business also loosened be.
Teach not love's magic to the base²⁶⁶ of mind,
Nor kindle thou a night-lamp for the blind.
From folly aye do thou thy sense preserve:
Control of sense the traveller²⁶⁷ should observe.
The soul that in intelligence may fail,
The lengthening of a life will not avail.
If sighs' smoke²⁶⁸ should the brain of wisdom flout,
The lamp of life will with a puff go out.
Youth from thy realm will darkness bear away,
And by old age illumined is thy day.
Of blindness and of distance gone the night,
The fringe of grey hair now has brought thee light.
Since from that drakness thou hast gained no fruit,
Plant in the ray of this light now thy foot.
Perchance thus to a road thou mayst attain,
The scent of faith thy nostrils whence may gain.
From thy white hair what dost thou gain of grace,
If it bestow not whiteness on thy face?
Is thy heart not ashamed of such a hue,
Give it no dye, as would black-dyers do.
Old age is on thy head as glorious snow;
From ice as water should thy grief's tears flow.
Proceed thou, weeping, on contrition's track,
Wash with ice-water from thy heart the black.
Black from thy heart canst thou not wash again,
Of all this blackening I know not the gain.
Since thy hand trembles, cast away thy pen:
Tear up the leaf: thy care is all in vain.
Devoid of light, thy lamp of thought has paled,
And in thy poet's garden water failed:
In this auspicious garden now I see
A raven's foot alone is left to thee.
On peacock's road with such foot wilt thou go
From captives' jail release how wilt thou know?
To cease from doubt and pride is to be free,
From making lines and stringing poetry.
Where is Nizámi? where his pleasing verse,
His subtle nature's troubles to rehearse?
A place within the veil himself he gained,
And all without the veil but he remained.
No profit 's gained since hidden there he lay,
Except that secret which he bore away.
Coming to God, that secret has not he,
Whose heart of all but God may not be free.²⁶⁹
When from this narrow corner he then took the road
Towards the ample space of holiness' abode,
Escaped from those entangled in this snare,
Beneath the skirt of God's throne he lies there.
His heart, of form of Multitude washed free,
Has found the mystery of Unity.
This heart if thou shouldst not find in thy side,
How would it be to turn from self aside,
On one in business skilled thy trust to lay,
An athlete among those who know the way?
That heart replete with wisdom well has said:
“He who is fasting is acquiring bread!”
No woman old knows rightly how to pray,²⁷⁰
Weakness and failure ever are her way.
If thou a man art, on this road proceed;
This with the knowing is the way indeed.
A heart like that which I to thee have sung,
And in describing pearls of mystery strung,
Seek in the side of some old, perfect man,
For this a heart to caputre is the plan.

CONCLUSION IN THANKFULNESS FOR COMPLETION, AND THE DATE OF FINISHING, AND PRAYER TO GOD THE MOST HIGH FOR FAVOUR IN THE WORLD TO COME.

Praise be to God that now, against Time's will,
This heart-alluring tale is ended still.
My heart, in making verse, that trouble knew,
With care of finding rhymes full weary grew,
Throws from its hand the scales of thought away,
And has from stringing rhymes an idle day,—
Has found a firm support in leisure's wall,
Into the road of ease from work to fall,—
My heavy head has lifted from my knee:
Of secret load my mind is light for me.
My rider-pen, that inky-fingered one,
From Abyssinia that to Roum has gone,
Has of his coming left in Roum a trace,
And tells the present news of future grace,
Alights from off his horse in search of rest,
Lies at full length upon a couch with zest.
His head no longer by scribe's hand is bent,
Nor with reproach his hand on pen-knife leant.
The inkstand is of Tartar musk a tray,
And with the pen's aid musk around will lay.
There is upon its mouth of wax a seal,
'Twere better thus the tray's mouth to conceal.
The leaves that are no longer scattered wide,
Feet drawn within their skirt, are side by side.
Rose-like, two hundred leaves one skin within
Until the heavens may tear off their skin.
Like roses, may they be in good demand,
And may their binding firm for ever stand!
Behold a book, writ with the pen of truth
In name of sweetheart and her well-loved youth.
I like a sugar-eating parrot came,
And coupled Joseph's with Zuleikha's name.
How fair in God's name is this fresh spring grove,
That Iram's garden will to envy²⁷¹ move!
Each tale in it is as a garden fair;
A sign of fair ones in each garden there.
A thousand roses blooming from it peep;
Narcissuses two hundred, soft in sleep.
Mysterious groves where branches interfold;
Their words are singers who in song are bold.
Its lines of musk upon a camphor sheet,
Like light and shade of trees upon the feet.
Each letter in it that you looped may count
Of hidden sense a wave-exciting fount.
On all sides rills their course from fountains trace,
With running streams of water, full of grace.
Happy the trav'ler who, with fortune's aid,
Upon their banks a resting-place has made!
Their waters' look will free his heart of pain,
And cleanse the dust off from his mind again.
Forth from his soul faith's mystery will stand,
And from his breast pluck out of prayer the hand.
From waves of sea of grace at Allah's hand,
For thirsty lip he will a drop demand.
Fresh roses to his breast he gathers, yet
Him never will the gardener forget.
The author's pen of this so precious thing,
Did with the year it to an ending bring.
The couplets of it, too, I took to count,
A thousand four times told was their amount.
And when there shall have passed one new year more,
Eight hundred ninety-nine the year will score.
On love's road, God, for men their way who trace,
And at love's halting-ground their burdens place,
Of mystery's chamber may this new bride be
From every failing skirt and bosom free!

* * * * * * *

[Here follow thirteen couplets of blessing on the Sultan Hussein Mirza Baihasa, his Vazírs, and others. The book thus concludes:]

With blessing now that thou thy song hast sung,
Jámi, in absolution loose thy tongue,
In black deeds, like thy pen, do not engage;
Now purify with bleeding eyes thy page.
Turn from this desert back thy courser-pen,
With this aim traverse thy black book again.
With punishment of silence curb thy tongue;
Silence prefer to all that thou hast sung.