She said, ‘They have related that in ancient times413a there was a King fond of hunting. He was ever giving reins to the courser of his desire in the pursuit of game, and was always casting the lasso of gladness over the neck of sport. Now this King had a Hawk, who at a single flight could bring down the Símurgh from the peak of Ḳáf,413b and in terror of whose claws the constellation Aquila kept himself close in the green nest of the sky.
And the King had a prodigious fondness for this Hawk, and always cared for it with his own hands. It happened that one day the Monarch, holding the Hawk on his hand, had gone to the chase. A stag leapt up before him and he galloped after it with the utmost eagerness. But he did not succeed in coming up with it, and became separated from his retinue and servants; and though some of them followed him, the king rode so hotly that the morning breeze—which in the twinkling of the eye encircles the world—could not have reached the dust he raised, nor could the north wind in spite of its velocity, attain to the dust of his horse’s hoofs.
Meantime the fire of his thirst was kindled, and the intense desire to drink overcame the King. He galloped his steed in every direction, and traversed the desert and the waste in search of water, until he reached the skirt of a mountain, and beheld that from its summit limpid water was trickling. The King drew forth a cup which he had in his quiver, and riding under the mountain filled the cup with that water, which fell drop by drop, and was about to take a draught, when the Hawk made a blow with his wing, and spilled all the water in the goblet. The King was vexed at that action, but held the cup a second time under the rock until it was brimful. He then raised it to his lips again, and again the Hawk made a movement and overthrew the cup.
The King, rendered impatient by thirst, dashed the Hawk on the ground, and killed it. Shortly after a stirrup-holder414 of the King came up and saw the Hawk dead, and the King athirst. He then undid a water-vessel414a from his saddle-cord, and washed the cup clean, and was about to give the King to drink. The latter bade him ascend the mountain, as he had the strongest inclination for the pure water which trickled from the rock; and could not wait to collect it in the cup, drop by drop, and therefore he desired the attendant to fill a cup with it, and come down. The stirrup-holder ascended the mountain and beheld a spring like the eye of hard-hearted misers, giving out a drop at a time with a hundred stintings; and a huge serpent lay dead on the margin of the fountain; and as the heat of the sun had taken effect upon it, the poisonous saliva mixed with the water of that mountain, and it trickled drop by drop down the rock. The stirrup-holder was overcome with horror, and came down from the mountain bewildered, and represented the state of the case, and gave the king a cup of cold water from his ewer. The latter raised the cup to his lips, and his eyes overflowed with tears.
The attendant asked the reason of his weeping. The king drew a cold sigh from his anguished heart, and said,
He then related in full the story of the Hawk and the spilling of the water in the cup, and said, ‘I grieve for the death of the Hawk, and bemoan my own deed in that without inquiry I have deprived a creature, so dear to me, of life.’ The attendant replied, ‘This Hawk protected thee from a great peril, and has established a claim to the gratitude of all the people of this country. It would have been better if the King had not been precipitate in slaying it, and had quenched the fire of wrath with the water of mildness, and had turned back the reins of the courser of his passions with the vigor of endurance, and had not transgressed the monition of the wise, who have said,
The King replied, ‘I repent of this unseemly action, but my repentance is now unavailing, and the wound of this sorrow cannot be healed by any salve; and as long as I live I shall retain on my bosom the scar of this regret, and lacerate the visage of my feelings with the nail of remorse.
And I have adduced this story in order that it may be known that many such incidents have occurred, where, through the disastrous results of precipitation, men have fallen into the whirlpool of repentance; and, owing to their abandonment of deliberate and cautious procedure, have sunk in the vortex of calamity.
The Devotee replied, ‘O partner of my life, and ornament of my exist-ence! thou hast consoled me with this story, and salved my wounded heart. And I know that I have many to share with me this guilt; and just as their stories have been recorded on the page of time, so shall my tale also be narrated. So that, whoever is incautious in his actions, and participates not in the advantages of gravity and placidity, may be warned by this narrative, and derive a salutary415 lesson from this history.
This is the story of one who, without deliberation, carries the intention of doing anything into execution, and engages in a matter without thought. And it behoves a man of understanding to make experience his guide, and to furbish the mirror of his judgment with the directions of sages and the admonitions of the wise; and on all occasions to incline towards reflection and counsel, and to turn away from the path of rashness and levity, in order that good fortune and prosperity may, in abundant and successive waves, reach the shore of his happiness, and the help of welfare and good gifts may be added to his virtues and courage.
The king said, ‘I have heard the story of a person who thoughtlessly and unreflectingly threw himself into the sea of regret and repentance, and through impatience and want of endurance, was caught in the snare of penitence and remorse. Now, if convenient, detail to me the purport of the Seventh Precept; and narrate the story of a person captured by his enemies; and explain the history of one surrounded by powerful foes, both on the left and on the right, and before and behind, and against whom many opponents have risen up, who, rushing upon him, cut him off on all sides. Thus he beholds himself in the claws of destruction and the grasp of ruin, and deems it requisite to form a connection and friendship with one of them; nay, to enter into a treaty and agreement with him, in order to escape safely. Say how shall he advance in this matter? and when, by the aid and assistance of one of his enemies, he obtains liberation from that calamity, how is he to fulfil his promise? And after having made the first courteous overtures, by what contrivance is he to keep open the path of concord?’ The Bráhman replied, ‘In general, friendship and enmity are not durable, because they are for the most part accidental, and that which is accidental quickly perishes. Consequently many friendships decrease with the lapse of time; nay, become entirely annihilated. In the same manner enmities, too, change and become erased from the tablet of the breast. The affection and animosity of the people of this world are like the clouds of spring, which sometimes pour down, and at other times withhold their showers; they have, therefore, no permanence nor stability.
There is as little dependence to be placed on the love and hatred of mankind, as on the partiality of a prince, the beauty of the fair, the voices of young singers, the fidelity of women, the favor of the deranged,418 the generosity of the drunken, the attachment of the populace, or the flattery of foes; for in none of these can you place any reliance, nor can you set your heart upon their duration.
For there have been many friendships which, after reaching the very extreme of union and attachment, and, after being founded in sincere and pure attachment, and mounting in the course of time to the very pinnacle of heaven, have been, by some fatal misfortune,418a changed from the most unalloyed affection to the extreme of hate, while their moisture was dried up by the scorching wind of separation. Again, long animosities and hereditary quarrels may be annihilated by a little kindness, and a foundation of friendship laid and strengthened in an excellent manner. Hence it is that men of understanding do not give up treating an enemy with courtesy, nor at once cut off all hopes of reconciliation. Neither do they place implicit reliance upon every friendship, nor feel perfect security and confidence therein. And of the perfect sayings, which have flowed from the source of the Great Prophecy, this significatory sentence is one that has been honored by manifestation, ‘Love thy friend moderately, not to the very extreme.’
Wherefore, as it is well known that small confidence is to be placed in the friendship or animosity of mankind, it behoves a wise and prudent man not to reject the overtures of an enemy to reconciliation and friendship, which may be the means of averting evils and of attracting benefits; but on the contrary, he should make use of every means in his power, as the exigencies of the moment may require, for the accomplishment of his purpose—in order that by happy influence of foresight and reflection, the door of good-fortune may be opened and the moon of prosperity dawn from the horizon of success. And of the various examples which have been quoted on this subject, that of the Rat and Cat is one.’ The king asked, ‘How was that?’
He said, ‘They have related that in the wilderness of Bard’a, there was a tree, which in height surpassed all trees, and was pre-eminent in the forest by its size and firmness.
And under the tree was the hole of a Rat of greedy nature and subtle disposition, sagacious and sharp-witted, who by a single deliberation could loose a thousand knots of difficulty, and in a half-instant could devise a hundred various artifices.
And in the neighbourhood of that tree, a Cat, too, had its abode, and sportsmen used very frequently to resort thither and spread their nets in the vicinity. One day a hunter spread his net close to that tree, and fastened a little flesh in the front of it. The greedy Cat, unaware of that circumstance, came on the scent towards the flesh, and, before its teeth could reach it, its neck was caught in the meshes of the net.
In short, the Rat, too, in quest of food, came from its hole, and cast its eyes cautiously all around, and looked to the right and left, and down and up. Suddenly its eyes lighted on the Cat; but although its sight waxed dim on beholding it and its hope of old age and continued existence was attenuated, it was nevertheless not dismayed,419 and looked well in that direction. It then observed that the Cat was entangled in the bonds of calamity, and returned heartfelt thanks to the sportsman, and expressed its gratitude for the captivity of the Cat. All at once it perceived an ichneumon crouching in ambush, and with the arrow of attack fitted to the bow of preparation. It then turned towards a tree and beheld a raven, which from the top of the tree meditated pouncing upon it. So the Rat was overpowered with terror and fear, and dismay and dread got the mastery over it.
The Rat bethought himself, ‘If I advance, the Cat will seize me, and if I go back the ichneumon will fasten on me, and if I stop where I am, the raven will pounce on me. What shall I do, then, in this calamitous position? and by what stratagem avert this danger? To whom shall I tell my distressful story? and from whom seek a medicine for my irremediable woe?
Now the doors of calamity are open, and the road to the halting-place of safety very far and distant. Various perils have unveiled their face, and the path of retreat is closed. Yet, notwithstanding all this, I must keep up my heart and fix my eyes on the road of liberation, for the cup-bearer, fortune, if he sometimes gives us to taste a draught of the beverage of our desire, at other times mixes the poison of his wrath with the sharbat of happiness.
A man of firm courage is he who does not suffer his lip to laugh with joy when arraying himself in the robe of good-fortune, nor permits the eye of grief to shed the tear of regret at drinking the draught of trouble.
Now, there is no better refuge for me in this whirlpool of calamity, than the shade of good sense, nor any kinder friend than the teacher of wisdom. And whoever possesses a strong mind, does not allow terror to find access to it, nor suffers dread and alarm to encompass his heart. And from the saying of the sages, it is to be learned that the minds of men of understanding should be like the sea, the measure of the depth of which cannot be known, and whose bottom can only be reached by divers of experience. And whatever secret or confidential things fall into it, they never reappear, and, however vast the torrent of calamity and disaster which flows into it, its capacity is sufficient to contain it, and the signs of discoloration are not perceptible in it. For if trouble reach such a point as to obscure the understanding, and despondency affect the mind to such a degree that the intellect is overpowered, men become incapable of deliberation, and the advantageous influences of experience and sagacity fail them.
But whoever permits a variety of doubts to find way to him, and suffers the suggestions of ‘Perhaps’ and ‘Perchance’ to agitate his bosom, the basis of his counsel is ruined, and the market of his deliberations and reflections is marred. Let him look as much as he will into the mirror of his heart, inasmuch as it is disturbed and darkened by the rust of doubt, he cannot see in it the face of his desired object, and however much he peruses the tablet of reflection, as the eye of his vision is dimmed by the ophthalmia of vain fancies, he cannot read from it the writing of his wish. And on this head an eminent authority has said,
No measure will suit me better than to make peace with the Cat, for in the extremity of danger he stands in need of my assistance; and just as I see a prospect of being delivered from these perils by his aid, so he, too, will be rescued from that imprisonment by my help and friendly offices. Now if the Cat will listen to my words with the ear of understanding, and will make use of a wise discrimination, and place confidence in the sincerity of what I say, and not impute it to cunning hypocrisy and deceit, and believe it pure of the evil mixture of wiliness and imposture, and the disgrace of dissimulation and interested motives, we may both effect our escape through the blessing of uprightness and unanimity, and my other enemies, being disappointed of their expectations, will go, each of them, about his business.421
Then, after these reflections, the Rat approached the Cat, and asked him what was the matter? The Cat answered in a doleful voice,
I have a body imprisoned in the fetters of distress, and a heart consumed with the flame of suffering and affliction.’ The Rat replied,
The Cat said, with the utmost humility, ‘Utter without ceremony whatever occurs to thy mind, and it behoves thee not to admit of any delay by suppressing it.’ The Rat answered, ‘Never did any hearer hear aught from me but the truth, and falsehoods meet with no acceptance in men’s hearts.422 Know, therefore, that I have always rejoiced at thy distress, and have ever regarded thy disappointment as the source of my own happiness; and my prayers have always been expended for thy loss and ruin. To-day, however, I am thy partner in misfortune, and I have projected a means of escape for myself, which involves thy release also; and for this cause I am now thy friend, and knock at the door of reconciliation.
And it cannot remain hidden from thy understanding and sagacity that I am now speaking the truth, and that in speaking thus I can have no feeling of treachery, nor any bad intention. Moreover I will produce two witnesses to the sincerity of my purpose; one is the ichneumon, which is crouching in ambush behind me, and the other the raven, which is on the look-out for me at the top of the tree, and both of them have the same object, that is my destruction.422a As soon, however, as I draw nigh to thee their hopes will be averted from me, and the desire of each of them will be altogether cut off. If thou wilt set my mind at ease, and give me a solemn promise sufficient to tranquilize my heart, I will escape under the shadow of thy good-fortune. Thus both my object will be attained and thy bonds too will be severed.
The Cat, after hearing these words, fell into thought, and was immersed in a sea of reflection, wishing to measure all the sides and parts of this discourse with the step of consideration, and to test the purity of this pro-position with the touchstone of deliberation. The Rat saw that time pressed excessively, and that the Cat was busying himself with prudential considerations. He therefore called out, ‘Listen to my words, and rely on the goodness of my disposition, and the purity of my intentions, and, accepting my kindness, no longer delay. For a wise man does not suffer himself to hesitate in action, and regards procrastination in important matters as inadmissible.
Just as I rejoice in thy fidelity, do thou also be pleased [at the opportunity of] prolonging my existence; for the deliverance of each of us is dependant on the surviving of the other; and my case and thine is exactly like that of the boat and the boatman, for the boat reaches the shore by the exertions of the boatman, and the boatman performs his business with the aid of the boat. Now, my sincerity will be shewn by trying it, and my haste is simply lest the opportunity be lost.
And I think that it is clear to thy heart that my words are not wanting in corresponding deeds, and that my actions preponderate over my promises. Now I have given a promise of friendship, and I will faithfully perform it, and do thou also nod thy head in assent, and declare thy compliance.
The Cat hearkened to the words of the Rat, and beholding the beauty of truth on the pages of his condition, rejoiced, and said to the Rat, ‘Thy words seem true, and from the tenor of thy discourse comes the odor of sincerity. I therefore accept this compact, and listen with the ear of my soul to the word of God, (may His Name be glorified!) who said, ‘Peace is good,’ and I will not overstep the purport of this saying,
And I hope that by the auspicious influence of sincere friendship both parties will be liberated, and I take upon myself the duty of requiting and recompensing this favour, and accept the obligation of being thankful to all time for this kindness. And I, too, after the same fashion that thou hast promised, plight my troth, and my hope is,
Now, say what I must do, and how I must conduct myself towards thee?’ The Rat replied, ‘When I approach thee thou must observe towards me the utmost reverence and becoming respect, that my foes, by observing that, may be acquainted with the confirmation of the ties of social converse and sincere friendship between us, and may so retire baffled and discomfited. Then I, with my mind free from care, will remove the bonds from thy feet.’ The Cat assented to this arrangement, and the Rat advanced with the utmost confidence. Then the Cat displayed all the forms of friendly and respectful salutation, and addressed him most cordially, and observed towards him a variety of courtesies and ingratiating and flattering ceremonies. When the ichneumon and raven beheld this state of things, they abandoned all thoughts of making prey of the Rat and departed. As soon as the Rat, owing to the protection of the Cat, was delivered from those two perilous enemies, he began to sever the bonds, and fell into reflection how to escape from the mesh of a third calamity, and he commenced his work slowly. The Cat sagaciously discerned that the Rat had fallen into long and protracted thought. He feared lest he should make off without severing the meshes, and leave him tied by the leg. He therefore began to expostulate with him in a friendly manner, and said, ‘Thou hast soon become weary, and my confidence in the fervor of thy professions and the goodness of thy disposition was very opposite to this. Now that thou hast gained thy object, and hast been successful in the wish of thy heart, thou seemest to be lax in fulfilling thy engagements, and art meditating some means of evading the discharge of thy obligations. For my part, I have long known that fidelity is a medicine not to be found in the shop of the druggists of this age; and that sincerity is a gain not to be met with in the treasures of the present time; and that good faith is a second Símurgh, of which but the name exists; and that gratitude resembles the philosopher’s stone, the truth of which no one has ever ascertained.
The Rat answered, ‘God forbid that I should mark the face of my condition with the brand of infidelity, and enter the good name, which I have through so long an interval acquired, in the volume of the breakers of promises. I well know that fidelity is the ladder of ambition, and the provision for the road of happiness. It is an elixir which transmutes black earth into gold, and a collyrium which imparts sight to the eye of the blind. The nostril of every soul which has not snuffed up the scent of faithfulness has no share in the perfumes of the odoriferous plants of good qualities, and the eye of every heart which has not beheld sincerity, is devoid of participating in the sight of the rays of amiable natures.
The Cat said, ‘As thou art thus sensible that good faith is the tire-woman of the bride of affection, and the mole of the cheek of beauty and comeliness, it behoves thee, too, to adorn the cheek of thy condition with this cosmetic. For no bird of the heart will warble among the branches of the affection of that garden, in which the plant of fidelity does not grow, and no cheek which is destitute of the mole of good faith will receive a single glance from any intelligent person. And hence they have said,
And whoever is not clothed with the garment of fidelity, and does not fulfil the promise which he plights, will meet with what that Farmer’s Wife met with!’ The Rat asked, ‘How was that?’
The Cat said, ‘They have related that in one of the villages of Fárs there was a Farmer of the utmost experience and the most abundant good sense. He had often tasted the bitters and sweets from the cup of fortune, and had experienced many hardships and pleasures in the struggles of life.
Now this farmer had a wife whose countenance was the taper of his bedchamber, and whose sweet and ruby lips were as olives425a to the drinkers of wine. She blended a hundred colors like the early spring, and, like fortune, indulged in a thousand coquettish artifices.
Notwithstanding all the skill that the old Farmer possessed, he passed his time in want and poverty, and sowed the seed of reliance on God in the field of ‘Consign the affair to the Almighty’; and, indeed, it is always the habit of perfidious fortune to exclude the deserving and meritorious from her favors, and to exalt to the summit of success and honor the worthless and undeserving.
Thus the old Farmer, though famous for his perfect skill in agriculture, not having the implements for following the business, passed his life in want of employment and penury. One day his Wife, from excessive distress, loosed the tongue of reproach, saying, ‘How long is this abiding in the corner of our hovel to continue, and how long is precious life to be wasted in want and scarcity of means. Surely from motion comes promotion;425b and although, from the tribunal of bounty, they have written the free passport, ‘Sustenance is from God,’426 yet the signature which they have impressed on the corner thereof is also ‘The industrious is the friend of God.’ Wherefore industry must be regarded as the means of support, but we must recognise the Lord God as the true provider.
It therefore appears to me advisable that thou shouldest step forward in the path of industry and acquire supplies by every means in thy power.’ The Farmer replied, ‘My dear life! what thou hast said approximates to the truth, nay, is beyond all manner of doubt or imputation of selfishness. But I have for a long time acted as master in this village, and most of the farmers of this place have been at some time my laborers. Now that my estate is ruined, and that I have parted with the implements of agriculture, there is no resource left me but to work as a common laborer, but I cannot bring myself426a to endure the disgrace of working for those who were once my own laborers.
But if I must needs make choice of some profession, it is best to pack up and depart from this place.
Come! let us emigrate to some other place and there support ourselves as best we can.’ The Wife was driven to extremity by poverty and destitution, and consented to the hardships of exile. Joining, therefore, in the purpose of her spouse, they set their faces thence towards the neighborhood of Baghdád. One day, in the midst of their journey, tired and weary, they took refuge under the shade of a tree, and, to dispel their fatigue, conversed on a variety of subjects. The Farmer said, ‘Dear friend! we have chosen the pains of exile, and are proceeding towards a country where no one is acquainted with us, and where we are acquainted with no one. And it is possible that the men of that country may be oppressive, and tyrannical, treacherous and deceitful, and God Most Holy and Most High has adorned the tablet of thy incomparable beauty with the inscription, ‘In the most perfect symmetry.’ Heaven avert that by craft and subtlety, or by force and violence, they should assail thee; and thou, too, through the pride of youth and the hope of conquest, should incline to them and turn away from this poor old man, and consume my aged head in the flame of absence; and if, which God forbid! things should turn out in this manner, it would be no longer possible for me to survive.
The Wife replied, ‘What words are these which pass thy lips? and what is this thought which has entered thy heart?
Had I entertained such thoughts as these I would not have undertaken the fatigues of the journey, nor would I have impressed on my suffering heart the brand of separation from my country. And my desire is to preserve [inviolate] till the day of resurrection, the vow of the first night when I placed my foot in the chamber of thy society.
And if thou wishest it I will pledge my faith anew, and promise that so long as the peacock of life adorns the garden of my body, the parrot of my tongue shall not sweeten its palate save with the sugar of gratitude to thee; and while the Humá of vitality continues to canopy my head with the shade of prosperity, I will never suffer the bird of my heart to be caught in the net of any one. Should I precede thee in traveling the last journey, I shall then have fulfilled my engagements, and if my fate should be to linger some days after thee, my promise is unaltered and my faith unchanged.
The Farmer was tranquilized by these words, and his Wife having plighted her faith in the manner that has been related, confirmed her promise with oaths; and the old man laid his head contentedly on the knee of his beloved spouse, and fell asleep. Shortly after this, a cavalier arrived there, mounted on a horse of Arabian breed, and clad in princely apparel. The Farmer’s Wife looked up and beheld a youth, such that if the pupil of the eye had beheld his countenance in the darkest night, it would have supposed that the true morn had arisen from the curtain of the eastern horizon; and if the human sight had cast a glance, through the veil of darkness, on his beautiful cheek, it would have imagined that the world-illuminating sun had displayed itself glittering from behind the veil [of the clouds]. His cheeks were like the damask428 rose, and his beard like the twisted hyacinth. One would say that the limner of divine wisdom had drawn, on the page of his cheek, a circle of liquid amber with the compasses of invention, or that through the culture of the husbandman of nature, a delightful verdure had grown up round the fountain of his life.
When the Farmer’s Wife beheld the perfect beauty of that cavalier, the sovereign of love occupied with his conquering forces the kingdom of her heart, and reason, which is the lord of the mansion of the body, packed up its goods to depart; and the tongue of her condition began to warble this couplet,
On the other side the youth looked and beheld a beautiful woman, such that the tire-woman of the Divine skill had adorned her enchanting face with the cosmetic of grace, and the polisher of the decree of the Holy One had lent illumination to her cheeks through the light of beauty. Her countenance was such that the radiant sun was consumed428b with envy at it, and so dark were her locks that the musk of Cathay was tortured with jealousy at them.
The neck of his soul became instantly bound with the chain of love, and the foot of his heart entangled with the noose of desire.
Now that youth was the son of the king of that country, who had come out with the intention of hunting, and had got to a distance from his retinue. When his eyes fell upon the two captivating gazelles429 of that disturber of cities, a piercing shaft from the bow of her eyebrows reached the target of his breast. Thus, though himself pursuing the chase, he was caught in the snare of love. Hereupon he exclaimed, ‘O envy of fairies! and O point of adoration to the idols of ’Aẕur!429a who art thou? and by what chance camest thou hither?
The Farmer’s Wife heaved a cold sigh from her afflicted heart, and said, ‘O wakeful Fortune! dost thou inquire after the state of one whose happiness slumbers, or dost thou ask the story of these sleepless eyes?
The partner of my fortunes is this infirm old man, and my distracted heart is linked with sorrow and melancholy. The origin of my distress429c is this that thou beholdest, and the conclusion of my career must be such as thou seest. I pass my time in hardships, and have no enjoyment in life.’ The youth replied, ‘O desire of the hearts of the afflicted! and solace of the minds of distracted lovers!
Is it to be tolerated that thou with this enchanting countenance shouldst choose to be the companion of a used-up old dotard; and possessed as thou art of such a stock of loveliness and beauty, shouldst pass thy time in poverty and want? Come with me! that I may seat thee on the throne of honor, and make thee the queen of this country, and set up the banner of thy glory and greatness throughout the confines of this realm.
As soon as the Farmer’s Wife heard the happy tidings of union with her lover, she forgot the promise she had that moment made; and shattered the cup of compact with the stone of inconstancy and untruthfulness. When the youth saw that she was inclined to him, he said, ‘Life of the world! look on this opportunity as a blessing, and rise and come to me, that I may mount thee [on my steed]; and before the farmer awakes we shall have traversed a considerable distance.’ The Farmer’s Wife lifted her husband’s head from her knee, and rested it on the ground; and, mounting nimbly behind the youth, clasped the girdle of his affection with the hand of reliance. At this moment, the Farmer awoke, and beheld the youth mounted and standing there, and his wife clasping with the hand of union the waist of his desire. A sigh issued from his breast, and he said,
Prithee, faithless one! what plot is this that thou hast devised, and what stratagem is this that thou hast ungratefully concocted?’ His Wife answered, ‘Cease thy persuasions and waste not thy breath in trying to lure me from my purpose. For to expect fidelity from the fair, is like attempting to unite the star Canopus with the Pleiades; and to look for constancy from those who make a practice of dealing cruelly, is like planting a rose-bush in the fire of a lime-kiln. But, perhaps, thou hast never heard what they have said,
The old man rejoined, ‘Thou hast stepped beyond the limits of right dealing, and hast opened the door of cruelty with the key of injurious conduct. Fear lest thou shouldest be overtaken with the retribution of thy broken vows, and the disastrous consequences of thy breach of promise should descend upon thee.
His wife, paying no attention to his words, said to the youth, ‘Make haste! that having escaped from the tortures of the desert of separation, we may convey ourselves to the halting-place of union.’ The prince then began to gallop through the waste his fleet, desert-crossing, river-passing steed, which was such, that the fierce northern blast was unable to keep up with it, nor could swift-winged fancy arrive at its traces.
In the twinkling of an eye they were lost to the Farmer’s sight, yet the hapless old man, in spite of the anguish of exile and the pangs of separation, set off after them.
And he thought to himself, ‘The promises of women are devoid of faith, and their faith of continuance.
And I, relying on her words, have abandoned my well-known country and my familiar fatherland, and now I have not the face to return, nor the power to pursue them. What, then, is to be the conclusion of my career, and what the end of my unhappy state?
However, after the lovers had gone to the distance of three farsakhs,431c they came to a fountain and a shady tree. The lady was tired, and the youth, too, felt fatigued. They said, ‘Let us rest here a moment, and, after we are refreshed, let us begin our journey again.’ They then dismounted from the horse, and took refuge under the shade of the tree, and sate some time at the brink of the water, and talked of various matters. The youth gazed with expanding eyes on the lovely countenance and musky ringlets of that enchanting fair one, and beholding the curls of perfumed hair falling on the roseate cheeks of his mistress, like the braid of the hyacinth on the leaf of the jasmine, he exclaimed,
On the other hand, that enchanting beauty, casting her eyes on the fascinating stature of that stripling—who was a plant in the garden of loveliness, more luxuriant than the branch of the Ṭúba-tree, and surveying the loftiness of that graceful cypress and the attractions of that branch of joy, uttered this verse,
In the midst of these speeches the importunities of nature seizing the collar of the Farmer’s Wife—she wished to renew her ablutions, and, through delicacy, she went some distance from under the tree, and proceeded to the side of a jungle which was near the fountain; but before she could get there, a ferocious lion—from dread of which the celestial lion dared not to move a step in the heavenly mead, and Taurus in the pasture-ground of the sky, was afraid to breathe, through terror of his claws,
No sooner did the lion get sight of her, than he carried her off and bore her into the jungle. When the youth heard the terrible roaring of the lion, and beheld his mistress carried off into the jungle, he threw himself, with all haste, upon his swift steed, and galloped into the desert,
In terror of his life, the prince sped on, nor looked behind him; and the fair one, a prisoner in the claws of the lion, reaped the seed which she had sown in the field of infidelity.
Meanwhile, the old Farmer, who was following them, came up limping and halting; and having reached the edge of the fountain, and finding no trace of them, uttered a cry of distress and said,
He then bethought himself of the time when they were united, and called to mind the feelings of their early wedded life; and, weeping bitterly, steeped his cheeks in the tears of regret.
Alas! that the rays of the brightness of union have been exchanged for the gloomy impressions of separation; and that the spring of mirth and happiness has faded under the scorching blast of the autumn of inconstancy and affliction.
After much weeping and infinite lamentation, he observed the footsteps of his beloved leading towards the desert. Instantly he fearlessly followed the track, and arrived at the moment433 when, the lion having torn open her belly and devoured part of her entrails, had departed. The old man at this sight was distracted with grief, and perceived that the disastrous results of her infidelity had reached her and that she had been overtaken with retribution for her perfidy and with punishment for her breach of faith. For a while he looked at her and wept over their attachment and his own forlorn state.
And the moral of this story is, that whoever lets slip from his hand the thread of good faith, places on his own feet the fetters of punishment, and puts the chain of calamity round his neck.
The Rat said, ‘I am aware that hypocrisy and deceit are altogether at variance with the sincere disposition of the benevolent and the practice of the good. Moreover, the advantages of thy friendship and the benefits of thy amity, have this very moment accrued to me, and the desires of my enemies, by the salutary influence of thy friendship, have just now been averted from me. Therefore it is most in accordance with honorable feeling, that I should look upon it as a duty, to requite this and loose thy bonds. But a difficulty has occurred to me and a doubt has risen up before me; and, until the dust of this anxiety is removed from the eye of my deliberation, it is impossible for me to loose all thy bonds.’ The Cat rejoined, ‘It appears, then, that thou hast still some apprehension of me; and yet the fact is, that I have pledged myself to good fellowship with thee, and have recited to thee a volume of reproaches against breach of faith; be assured, then, that it is impossible for me to act contrary to my promises and engagements. And relinquish the distrust that formerly existed between us; for the obligation of this new alliance has removed the principle of our former enmity, and my expectation of thy sincerity and anticipations of thy gratitude, are confirmed. Do not approach, therefore, to the ruinous practice of deceit and fraud, nor impair and deform the beauty of thy virtues and the mirror of thy good qualities with the rust of fraud and perfidy.
A man of upright nature and good disposition, on receiving so much as a single gracious look from any one, steps forward in the plain of sincere attachment, and raises the foundation of friendship and special regard to the pinnacle of the sky, and moistens and refreshes the plant of courtesy with the drops of sincere kindness. If by chance any suspicion or alarm should spring up in his mind, and the rankling of doubt develope itself in his heart, he immediately effaces it and does not suffer the thought of it again to approach the area of his imagination. Especially, too, when a compact has been ratified between him and his friend, and confirmed by solemn oaths. And it should be understood that the end of the faithless is infamous, and punishment soon descends on the perfidious; and a false oath lays waste the foundation of life, and to act contrary to promises speedily overthrows the sub-structure of existence.
And I am in hopes that thou, with a right feeling of gratitude, wilt forget former injuries, and wilt not exert thyself to break the promise which thou hast made.’ The Rat replied,
But the mental scruples, which I have before mentioned to thee, cause me to ponder and hesitate; otherwise, God forbid! that I should not fulfil my promise, or fail to release thee from these bonds.’ The Cat rejoined, ‘Explain to me the purport of thy thoughts, that I, too, may look into the matter with the eye of deliberation, and be able to judge of the solidity of thy reasoning, and the extent of thy wisdom.’ The Rat answered, ‘My doubts arise from this, that friends are of two kinds. First, there are those who contract friendship with perfect sincerity, and the utmost ardor and eagerness, without any admixture of self-interest or cupidity, or the debasement of hypocritical or feigned intentions. Secondly, there are those who make advances in some emergency with a view to some object they covet or are interested in. Now, the first class, who with pure faith and sincere intentions open the doors of friendly intercourse, are in every respect worthy of confidence, and at all times one may feel secure of them, and to whatever gratification they may point, there will be no swerving from the path of wisdom.
But as for those who in some exigency make friendship a shield to repel injury, or the means of attracting and drawing to themselves advantage, their feelings will not preserve an even tenor. At one time in the season of enjoyment they will spread the carpet of pleasure, and anon at a critical moment, when their wishes are thwarted, they will look askance at their friend.
A sagacious man, therefore, should delay the accomplishment of some of the wishes of such persons, and not all at once surrender to the grasp of their power the reins of his own option. But in the execution of their affairs he ought to hang back under some plausible pretexts, and bring them to a close by slow degrees. He is bound also to look to his own safety, for self-preservation is a duty. And provided he acts in this manner, he will both be celebrated for the lustre of his kind deeds, and will also be conspicuous for the excellence of his judgment and prudence. Now, I shall act towards thee in the manner that has been pointed out. I will in no wise hold back from releasing thee, to which I have pledged myself; but I shall employ the utmost caution in taking care of my own person, and in guarding myself; for the enmity between me and thee exceeds even that of the parties from whose assaults I have been preserved by thy favor. My object in making peace with thee was to get rid of them, and I regarded it as a duty; and the gentleness which thou, too, didst display, arose from the exigency of the moment, and to avert evil. It is now, therefore, indispensable for me to look to the issue of the matter, and not all at once to neglect caution and foresight: for they have said,
The Cat said, ‘O Rat! thou art436 exceedingly sagacious and wise, and up to this time I was ignorant of the extent of thy intelligence, nor did I know that the amount of thy knowledge and skill was of such a degree. I have derived advantage from these words of thine, and thou hast given into my hand the keys of the doors of experience and wisdom. I wish, now, that thou wouldest disclose to me in what manner both my bonds may be loosed and thou, too, mayest remain safe. Tell me how it is possible that this can be effected?’ The Rat laughed and said,
My idea is to sever thy bonds, but to retain as a security for my own life the principal knot, and to look out for an opportunity when thou hast something in hand of more importance than an attack upon me, and when thou art not able to attend to me, and hast no leisure to do me an injury. I will then sever that knot also, in order that thou mayest be delivered from confinement, and I may escape from harm.’ The Cat perceived that the Rat was perfect master of his own affairs, and would not be moved from his course by flattery or deceit. He therefore unwillingly consented to that arrangement. So the Rat severed the knots, but one that was the principal one he left as it was. Thus they brought that night to an end with conversation. As soon as the ’anḳá of the morning came flying forth in the eastern horizon,436a and spread its light-bestowing pinions over the regions of the world,
and the hunter appeared in the distance. Then the Rat said, ‘The time is come to release myself from my promise, and to fulfil completely what I had engaged to do.’ The Cat, too, when his eyes lighted on the hunter, made sure of his own destruction, and expected to be put to death, when at that moment the Rat divided the remaining knot. The Cat, in terror for his life, forgot the Rat; and running off,437 mounted to the top of a tree; and the Rat, having escaped from such a danger, crept into a hole. The hunter beheld the meshes of the net broken and the knots severed, and was overpowered with astonishment. He took up the remains, and went away disappointed. After some time had passed the Rat put his head out of the hole, and seeing the Cat at a distance, was afraid to go near him. The Cat called out to him,
Wherefore dost thou fly me? and why dost thou think fit to shun me? Art thou not sensible that thou hast acquired a dear friend, and hast gained a valuable store for thy children and descendants, and companions and friends? Come forward, that I may requite thy goodness by my kind behaviour, and that thou mayest experience in the most approved fashion the recompense of thy courage and humanity. For my part, I know not with what tongue to express my acknowledgments of thy favors, or in what words to discharge my thanks for thy compassionate kindness.
The Rat, however, just as before, kept to the border of the carpet of separation, and, avoiding the court of companionship, turned his countenance towards solitude and timidity, and inscribed the legend of this proverb on the register of his mind, ‘This is an age of refractoriness, not a season of gratitude;’ and repeated in a mournful voice, ‘How beautifully have they said,
It appears to me that this is a season for retirement and a time for divesting oneself of business, and after this I will have no intercourse with any one, but relinquish all converse with my contemporaries.
The Cat replied, ‘Act not so, nor withhold from me thy presence. Neither destroy the claims of friendship and the respect of old acquaintance. For whoever, by much exertion, has acquired a friend, and, without cause, supinely permits him to pass beyond the circle of friendship, will remain excluded from the happy results of companionship, and his other friends, having lost all hope in him, will abandon his alliance.
Now thou hast conferred on me a vital obligation, and I owe to thy kindness the blessing of life. The vow, therefore, of friendship which I have pledged to thee is safe from the incidents of change, and the amicable compact which I have formed is secure from the damage of being broken.
And as long as my life lasts I shall not forget thy claims, and I will use all possible efforts to shew thee kindness and honor in requital of what thou hast done for me.
Although the Cat made use of speeches of this description, and confirmed what he said by the most solemn oaths, wishing to raise the curtain of separation from between them, and to open the path of intercourse, it was all, in fact, of no avail, and the Rat replied, ‘Whenever enmity arises from accident, it may be removed simply by intercourse and urbanity manifested by both parties. In such cases there is no fault to find with persons mixing cheerfully together. But when there is an inherent hostility, though they may, to outward appearance, lay the foundation of friendship, there is no reliance to be placed thereon, and caution and circumspection must not be a jot abated, for the harm thereof is great and the result disastrous. Wherefore it is best that as the connection of homogeneousness does not exist between us, thou shouldest wean thy heart from my society, for I naturally flee from thy society with all my soul. And whoever associates with those of a different species will meet with what befell the Frog.’ The Cat asked, ‘How was that?’
The Rat said, ‘They have related that a mouse had taken up its abode on the brink of a fountain, and had fixed its residence at the foot of a tree. A Frog, too, passed his time in the water there, and sometimes came to the margin of the pool to take the air. One day coming to the edge of the water he continued uttering his voice in a heart-rending cadence, and assuming himself to be a nightingale of a thousand melodies, he set free with his distressing tones the birds of the hearts [of his audience] from the cages of their bodies.
At that time the mouse was engaged in chanting in a corner of his cell. Directly he heard the uproarious yelling of the Frog he was astounded, and came out with the intention of taking a look at the reciter; and while occupied with listening to him, kept smiting his hands together and shaking his head. These gestures, which seemed to display approbation, pleased the Frog, and he made advances towards acquaintance with him. The tongue of understanding was warning him not to associate with one of a different species, but the vanity of his disposition was inclining him towards the mouse. In short, being mutually pleased with each other, they became inseparable companions, and used to narrate to each other entertaining stories and tales.
One day the mouse said to the Frog, ‘I am oftentimes desirous of disclosing to thee a secret, and recounting to thee a grief which I have at heart, and at that moment thou art abiding under the water.
However much I shout thou hearest me not, owing to the noise of the water, and in spite of my crying to thee, the sound cannot reach thee, because of the clamor of the other frogs. We must devise some artifice by which thou mayest know when I come to the brink of the water, and thus mayest be informed of my arrival without my shouting to thee.’ The frog said, ‘Thou speakest the truth. I, too, have often pondered uneasily, thinking, should my friend come to the brink of the water, how shall I, at the bottom of this fountain, learn his arrival? and how absolve myself of the anxiety which he will be enduring to gain sight of me? And it sometimes happens that I, too, come to the mouth of thy hole, and thou hast gone out from another side, and I have to wait long. I had intended to have touched somewhat on this subject to thee, but thou thyself, with the kindness thou possessest, has set forth the circumstance, and with candor of heart hast made known the hidden feelings of my own mind. Now the arrangement of this matter rests, too, with thee.
The mouse replied, ‘I have got hold of the thread of a plan, and it appears to me the best thing to get a long string, and to fasten one end to thy foot, and tie the other tight round my own, in order that when I come to the water’s edge and shake the string, thou mayest know what I want; and if thou too art so kind as to come to the door of my cell, I may also get information of this by your jerking the string.’ Both parties agreed to this, and the knot of friendship was in this manner firmly secured, and they were also kept informed of one another’s condition. One day, the mouse came to the water’s edge to seek the Frog, in order to renew their friendly converse. All of a sudden a crow, like an unforeseen calamity, flew down from the air, and snatching up the mouse, soared up with him. The string which was tied to the leg of the mouse drew forth the frog from the bottom of the water, and, as the other leg was fastened to the Frog’s leg, he was suspended head downwards in the air. The crow flew on, holding the mouse in its beak, and lower down the Frog hanging head downwards. People witnessing that extra-ordinary sight, were uttering in the road various jokes and sarcasms, ‘A strange thing this, that contrary to his wont a crow has made prey of a frog,’ and ‘Never before was a frog the prey of a crow.’ The Frog was howling out in reply, ‘Now, too, a frog is not the prey of a crow, but from the bad luck of associating with a mouse, I have been caught in this calamity, and he who associates with those of a different species deserves a thousand times as much.
And the citation of this story carries with it this beneficial advice, that no one ought to associate with one of a different race, in order that like the frog, he may not be suspended on the string of calamity. And for my own part I have no desire to mingle with those of my own race, then what must I feel towards those of another?
The Cat rejoined, ‘Since thou hadst no wish for society, why didst thou show, in the commencement, all that courtesy? By thy friendly and polite manner, thou capturedst me, and when I have become foot-bound in the snare of friendship, thou severest the cord of union and beginnest to separate.
The Rat replied, ‘At that time I stood in need of thee; and a wise man, if he fall into a difficulty from which he may hope to extricate himself by the aid of an enemy, will undoubtedly have recourse to conciliatory measures and exert himself to display the proofs of his regard. Afterwards if he should foresee any injury to himself, he will shun his society, not through enmity or perversity, nor from aversion or arrogance, but just as the young of animals follow their mothers for the sake of the milk, and when they are independent of that nature, abandon their society without any previous distrust. Nor does any intelligent person impute that conduct to enmity; but when advantage is withheld, it appears more reasonable that the connection should cease.
Moreover my nature and thine have in their origin been predisposed to hostility, and the fame of our enmity has reached the hearing of all, and it is imbedded in our dispositions; and no great dependance can be placed on a friendship which has arisen of necessity, in order to expedite something imperatively required, nor can much weight be attached to it. For when the necessity is removed things will assuredly return to their original state. Thus water, so long as it is set over the fire, will keep warm, but when it is taken off will become cold as before. And every one knows that the rat has no more dangerous enemy than the cat, and I am convinced that thou hast no inclination towards me, save that thou wishest to prepare a draught for thy breakfast of my blood, and to use my flesh to supply thy morning meal. And no sophistry will avail to allure me to thee, or to make me rely or confide in thy friendship.
The Cat said, ‘Dost thou speak these words in earnest, or, in point of fact, dost thou merely jest and banter?’ The Rat replied,
I speak this in solemn seriousness, and I am convinced that it is safer for a weak creature like me to shun the society of a powerful one like thee, and for a weak man to abstain from a contest with a strong one. For if he happen to act at variance with this rule, he will receive a wound which will not be curable with any plaster.
I am now of opinion that it is advisable for me at present to be fully on my guard towards thee, and that thou shouldest be wary of the hunter, and then between me and thee there will be a purity of faith which can be relied on. For the best foundation for a sincere friendship is coincidence of sentiment and mental acquaintance.442
We must confine ourselves to this, for closer union is impossible, and the point of conjunction is quite beyond the circle of discussion.’ The Cat began to be much agitated, and uttered lamentations mingled with tears, and outcries fraught with anguish of heart, and said,
With these declarations they took leave of each other, and turned to their respective homes. Now, a wise man of clear intellect will draw the following lesson from this story. In time of emergency he will not let slip an opportunity of making truce with an enemy, and when his object is attained, he will not neglect to observe the requisite caution. Praise be to God! the Rat, notwithstanding his weakness and helplessness when encompassed by a variety of perils, and surrounded by powerful foes and mighty enemies, by having recourse to ingenious stratagems drew one of them into the net of amity, and by means of his friendship escaped from the torrent of calamity, and having found an opportunity, discharged his promises, and fulfilled the duties of caution and foresight. If persons of wisdom and understanding, and people of sagacity and penetration, will make these experiences a pattern for their own undertakings, and take these directions as their guide in performing the important business of life, both the commencements and the conclusions of their affairs will be linked and attended with abundant success; and happiness in this world and blessing in the next will accompany them in their fortunate career.
The world-adorning King said to the Sage of fortunate judgment,
Thou hast with discourse free from the reproach of fault, and arrangement clear of the brand of doubt and suspicion, related the story of one who, when overpowering enemies and triumphant foes assailed him, and there was no way for flight on any side, and a safe egress was not to be imagined; yet sought assistance from one of those foes and arranged a peace, and by the aid of his alliance escaped from the injuries of the others, and remained secure from danger, and peril, and mischief, and calamity, and having faithfully performed his promise made at that crisis to his foe, yet preserved his own person from him, and, by the blessing of caution and the happy influence of sagacity, arrived from the whirlpool of calamity on the shore of safety and salvation. Now, I respectfully request thee to recite the story of the rancorous and malignant, whether it is better to shun and avoid them, or to mix with them and join in their mirth. If one of them should make conciliatory advances, and manifest a desire to be courteous, ought one to listen to him, or altogether deny to his offers a place in one’s consideration?’ The Bráhman said,
Whoever is assisted by the grace of the holy spirit, or is supported by the aid of perfect reason, will undoubtedly see that it is incumbent to practise in all his affairs the utmost caution, and will well discern the divisions of good and ill, and the positions of gain and detriment; nor will it be concealed from him that it is more safe to withdraw from friends who are displeased, and from companions who have been injured. And to avoid the ambushed wiles of the malicious and the perils of the treachery of those who pretend to sell wheat, while they are vendors of barley, is a cause of security from danger. And this especially is the case, when one sees with the eye of understanding a change in his friend’s internal sentiments and an alteration in his confidence, and surveys with clearness the doubtings of [his former friends’] mind and the suspicions of his heart.
And whoever discerns in the resentful the signs of hostility, must take care not to give them a good opportunity445; nor to be deceived by their oily language and shew of courtesy. Nor must he neglect caution and vigilance, and foresight; for if he act contrary to this principle, he will make a target of his life for the arrow of calamity, and kindle the fire of anguish in the area of his breast.
And of the number of stories, which have been inscribed on the volume of the minds of the venerable, that of Ibn-i Madín and the Lark possesses great beauty and perfect excellence.’ The king asked, ‘How was that?’
The Bráhman said, ‘They have related that there was a king, whose name was Ibn-i Madín, possessed of a lofty spirit, and clear intellect. He had raised the lofty edifice of his kingdom by the exertions of power to the dome of Arcturus; and, with the aid of the geometrician, grandeur, had carried the extensive pedestal of his glory beyond the pinnacle of the heaven of heavens.
And he had an attachment of the strongest kind for a Lark. Now this Lark was a bird of perfect beauty, and enchanting voice, and pleasing form, and graceful shape. The king was always talking to it, and was delighted with its sweet answers and pleasant tales.
It happened that the Lark laid an egg, and brought forth a young one in the palace of the king. The latter, from excess of fondness [for the bird] ordered it to be brought into the seraglio and the attendants of that part of the palace were commanded to take the greatest care in cherishing it and its young. Now that very day a son was born to the king, on whose forehead shone the rays of nobleness, and on the pages of whose condition gleamed the lustre of happy fortune.
As the young one of the Lark grew up, the prince too advanced, and a vast attachment arose between them; and the royal child was ever playing with that young bird, and every day the Lark used to fly to the mountains and plains, and to bring two fruits of a kind unknown to men; or, if known, unprocurable by them. One fruit it gave to the prince, and with the other it fed its own young one, and both relishing what was thus given them, ate it with enjoyment and eagerness, and the beneficial effects thereof were most rapidly visible in invigorating their bodies and strengthening their frames. Accordingly, in a short time they grew much.
And through those services the Lark was daily more honored and esteemed; and its place in the king’s favor and regard advanced every hour. Some time passed in this way, and time wrote many leaves—white and black—the leaves of day and night. One day the Lark had gone away and its young one leapt on the young prince’s bosom, and, with the claw of violence, inflicted a wound in his hand. The fire of wrath blazed up in the prince, and plunged him into the whirlpool of inconsiderate action and violence, so that he cast dirt into the eyes of honorable feeling, and magnanimity, and, giving to the winds the ties of friendship and long acquaintance, seized the bird by the leg and, whirling it round his head, dashed it with such force against the ground, that it was instantly crushed446 and perished on the rack of destruction.
When the Lark returned, it beheld its young one killed. There was cause to fear that the bird of its life would take wing from the cage of its body. From horror at that circumstance, a mourning arose in its heart—the type of the lamentation at the last judgment. And from the occurrence of that catastrophe, grief took up its place within the Lark’s bosom as ineffaceable as characters on stone. It raised its lamentations and outcries to the height of the moon and the planet Mercury.
After much lamentation and infinite regrets, the Lark thought to itself, ‘Thou hast kindled this flame of calamity, and it is thou that hast sold the goods of tranquillity for the uproar of distress. Humble447 as thy state is, thou shouldest have made thy nest on the top of a wall. What hadst thou to do with the seraglio of the sulṭán? and when thou oughtest to have been engaged in rearing thy young, why didst thou employ thyself in the tutelage of the king’s son? Hadst thou been satisfied with thy corner and thy morsel, thou wouldest not this day have been involved in this calamity, and wouldest not have suffered grief from these circumstances. And sages have said, ‘Hapless is any one who is thrown upon the society of the tyrannical, for the rein of their good faith is very relaxed, and the basis of their fidelity is very weak. They have always the cheek of honor lacerated by the injuries of oppression, and they fill up the fountain of generosity with the dirt of insincerity and injustice. Neither has former companionship any weight with them, nor do they regard previous services and the ties of attendance.
In the school of the revengeful they regard the forgiveness of offences, which is the attribute of liberal men, as inadmissible and prohibited. And ingratitude, which brands the impious, they think allowable and admissible in the law of pride. Pray, then, what advantage can one derive from associating with parties who forget the previous services of their sincere friends? or what benefits can result from attendance on a class who allow the friendly connection of interested associates to pass from their memory?
And I have associated myself with a tribe who make no account of the perpetration of things of great magnitude, where themselves are the offenders, while they regard a trifling fault on the part of others as excessive.
And I, in fine, will not let slip the opportunity of revenge and the hour of requital, and I will not rest nor allow myself to repose until I have exacted vengeance for my young one from this merciless tyrant and cruel oppressor, who, without just grounds, has slain one born at the same time, his playmate, and companion and friend, and without a cause has destroyed the sharer of his house and bed.
He then sprang remorselessly in the face of the prince, and tore out the world-surveying eyes of that refresher of the visual organs of the empire, and, flying away, settled on a pinnacle of the castle. Intelligence of this was conveyed to the king. He wept for the eyesight of his son, and wished to entice the bird into the net of deceit, and having imprisoned it in the cage of calamity, to command that the punishment due to its offence should be carried into execution. He then came under the castle-wall, and standing opposite the Lark, said, ‘Friend of my existence! come down from this height for thy life is safe.
Now destroy not our intercourse, nor cause the plant of my enjoyment to wither.’ The Lark replied, ’O king! it is the bounden duty of all to obey thy command. After wandering for a long time in the desert of reflection I had arrived at the confines of this thought, that for the remainder of my life I should regard the royal palace as the sanctuary of my wishes, and the shrine of my prosperity, and not gallop the steed of my energies, save in the court of this lord. My idea was that I might be happy and tranquil under the shade of thy favor, like the doves in the temple of Makkah; and, exerting myself in the path448 of honourable and kindly feeling, I might arrive at the elevation of a pure unruffled content. Now, however, that they have thought fit to slay my young one in the seraglio like a sacrifice offered by pilgrims, how can I have any desire left to circumambulate449 this house. And yet, notwithstanding all this, if I were aware of anything equivalent to sweet life, I would acquiesce and take service with the ladies of the sacred precincts of the seraglio, but,
And moreover the traditionary saying, ‘The believer will not be stung from one hole twice,’ is proved correct: and it behoves an acute person not to try the same thing twice, nor to suffer a second time from the wound of the same animal.
And, again, it is clear to the luminous mind of the king that an offender cannot live secure. For if his punishment in this temporary state be delayed, yet that of the eternal world is still to be expected by him. And if, by the aid of lofty good-fortune he escape the former, he must taste the bitterness of chastisement through the sufferings of his children and grandchildren; and he must in this way experience the abasement of the tortures and disastrous results which his crime entails. For the temper of the world is a security for the quality of requital, and the disposition of fortune guarantees the character of proportionate rewards. Accordingly the king’s son devised treachery against my young one; and from me, without my option, but in the way of requital, affliction fell upon him. And it is impossible that any one should drink a draught from the cup of oppression, and not suffer from the intoxication of calamity; or plant the seedling of injustice in the garden of action, and not reap the fruit of torture and anguish.
But, perhaps, the king has not heard the story of Dánádil449a and the thieves, and the retribution which befell the latter has not reached the royal ear?’ The king asked, ‘How was that?’
The Lark said, ‘They have related that in the city of Raḳḳah there was a darvesh, adorned with estimable qualities and commendable manners, and the plant of his actions was beautified with the flowers of virtuous feelings and excellent habits. Inasmuch as he possessed a heart rendered wise by a knowledge of spiritual truth, they used to call him Dánádil and the people of that city entertained a strong regard for him.
At one time in his life he set out on a pilgrimage to the Sacred House,450 and entered on his journey without a friend or companion. A party of thieves came up with him; and, suspecting that he had considerable wealth, formed the desire of slaying him. Dánádil said, ‘The worldly wealth that I have with me is no great matter, beyond what will suffice as provision for the way on my pilgrimage. If your wishes are satisfied by that amount, it is of no consequence, take the things and leave me alone to bring this journey to an end in reliance on God and destitute of other support; and to make of the dust of the temple’s threshold a collyrium for the eye of my expectation.
The merciless robbers, giving no heed to these words, drew their swords to put him to death. The hapless darvesh looked in every direction like one aghast; and, as is the wont of those in distress, sought for aid and deliverance. In that terrible desert and fearful and alarming wilderness, not a living creature met his sight; save that at that time a flock of cranes was flying above their heads. Dánádil called out, ‘O cranes! I have fallen captive in this desert into the hands of cruel men, and, save the Lord of the unseen world, no one is acquainted with my condition. Do ye exact vengeance for me from this gang, and require my blood at their hands?’ The robbers laughed and said, ‘What is thy name?’ He replied, ‘Dánádil.’ ‘Marry,’ quoth they, ‘thy heart has not a particle of wisdom. We are sure that thou art a fool. And whoever is devoid of reason there will ensue nothing very bad from killing him.’ Dánádil replied, ‘Surely thou wilt see when the dust is cleared away,’ I will here recite in your ear somewhat as to retribution, and I will bring under your observation a trifle with respect to the requital of actions; but yet a class of whose nature the characteristic is, ‘They are deaf, dumb, and blind, therefore will they not repent,’450a what knowledge have they of this matter?
However much Dánádil addressed them, the ear of their understanding was insensible to his truthful discourse, and the visual faculty of their sight did not behold the manifestation of the beauty of reality. They killed him and took his effects. When the news of his murder reached the people of the city, they were sad and felt much regret for his loss, and were ever on the look-out to catch his murderers. At last, after a considerable interval most of the inhabitants of that city had assembled on the day of ’Íd in worship, and the murderers of Dánádil also had taken their places in one corner in that meeting. In the midst of the prayers, a number of cranes passing through the air flew over the heads of the robbers, and uttered such plaintive cries, that from their wailing the people stopped reading the daily lessons, and the repetition of the names of God. One of the robbers laughed, and said sneeringly to a comrade, ‘They are certainly requiring the blood of Dánádil.’ It happened that one of the inhabitants of the city overheard this speech, and told it to another. In a short time they informed the governor of it. They were then seized, and after a short inquiry they confessed, and the retribution for the innocent blood [they had shed] having reached them, they met with the suitable retaliation.
And I have adduced this story in order that the king may know that my boldness in wounding the prince was inspired by retributive justice and the requirements of retaliation. Else whence could a feeble bird have strength for such a deed? And since this action has been perpetrated by me, the command of reason, the controller, is, that I should not obey thy mandate; nor, relying upon thee, be led by the cord of treachery and deceit into a pit.
The king replied, ‘What thou hast said is allied to truthfulness and prudence, and fraught with the advantages of wisdom and the beneficial results of good sense, and I know that, in accordance with the saying, ‘The beginner is the most in the wrong,’ the fault was my son’s, since without any previous offence on its part he killed thy young one. Thus, then, by way of retribution, as it is said, ‘The retaliation of evil ought to be an evil proportionate thereto,’452 thou hast exacted a rightful quittance. Nay more, I am thankful that thou didst not proceed to slay him, and wast satisfied with destroying his sight. Now, neither hast thou any rancor left, nor have I any wish to injure thee. Believe my word, and do not foolishly persevere in withdrawing and separating thyself, and know that I regard revenge as a failing in man, and look upon forgiveness as one of the virtues of noble minds. I will never smite the hand of rejection upon the forehead of virtue, nor turn the face of acceptance towards vice. Nay, my desire is to do good in return for evil, and if an injury befall me from any one, to recompence him with a benefit.
The Lark replied, ‘My return is altogether impossible; for the wise renounce the companionship of a friend who has been alienated; and it is recorded among the maxims of sages, that although men may shew an increase of courtesy and conciliation to persons whose feelings have been wounded, and regard it as incumbent on them to treat such persons with respect and kindliness, still their suspicions and aversion will augment, and this being the case, it becomes necessary to avoid them.
The king rejoined, ‘O Lark! cease these words, for thou art as a son to me, nay, even dearer still, and I have not the same affection for any of my kinsmen or connections, that I have for thee. No one ever plans mischief against his own kin, or entertains vengeful or hostile feelings towards his intimates.’ The Lark answered, ‘The wise have delivered their sentence as to relations, and have spoken in detail as to the circumstances of each; and have thus pronounced, ‘Mother and father are real friends;452a and brothers are as comrades and attached companions; and a wife is in the position of one who shares in social intercourse; and daughters are equivalent to antagonists, and all other kinsfolk are no better than strangers. But men wish for a son to perpetuate their name, and regard him as the same as soul and body, nor do they allot to any one a share in the value and regard they set upon him. Thus I can never be to thee in the place of a son; and even supposing that thou shouldest hold me as a son, yet when calamity comes upon thee, and misfortune and disaster assail thee, thou wilt cease to regard me, for however dear one may hold another, and however much he may say, ‘I prefer thee to myself and would not withhold my life for thee;
when trouble arises and things come to such a point that life must be renounced, a person will undoubtedly convey himself from the strait of that peril to the open expanse of safety, and will in no wise sacrifice the ready coin of existence for another.
But perhaps the king has not heard the story of the Old Woman and Muhastí, and has not been informed of what happened to them?’ The king said, ‘Explain to me how that was.’
The Lark said, ‘They have related that an indigent Old Woman had a daughter, by name Muhastí, such that the full moon envied the brightness of her lustrous cheek; and the world-illuminating sun, from the reflection of her enchanting countenance, sate down perspiring with shame.
All of a sudden the blighting glance of unpropitious fortune having fallen on that rose-cheeked cypress, she laid her head on the pillow of sickness; and in the flower-garden of her beauty, in place of the damask-rose, sprang up the branch of the saffron. Her fresh jessamine, from the violence of the burning illness, lost its moisture; and her hyacinth full of curls, lost all its endurance from the fever that consumed her.
The Old Woman hovered round her daughter, and with eyes moist as vernal clouds, was saying tenderly and sorrowfully, ‘Life of thy mother! may my life be a sacrifice for thee, and may the head of this infirm one, wearied out in the corner of distress, be the dust of thy feet! I will make myself an offering for thee, and redeem, with the half life I possess, thy existence.
Every morning she used to say, with many sighs and lamentations, ‘O God! spare this young inexperienced maid, and take in her stead this broken-down old woman tired of her life.
In short the Old Woman, in accordance with the love of mothers and maternal tenderness, day and night exerted herself in prayer and supplication, and freely offered to bestow the life which was left to her for her beloved child. One day it happened that a cow belonging to the old woman returned from the desert, and entered the kitchen; and induced by the smell of soup, put its head in to a cauldron, and ate the contents. But when it tried to extricate its head, it was unable to do so. Thereupon, becoming furious, it went out of the kitchen with the pot just as it was, on its head; and ran from one corner to another. At the time the cow came back the Old Woman was not in the house, and was ignorant of those circumstances. When she came home and saw an object of that form and appearance going round the house, she imagined that it was Izráil, who had come to seize the soul of Muhastí. Forthwith she uttered a shriek, and said most piteously,
And I, this day, have divested myself of all connections and separated myself from all mankind, and I have been so plentifully supplied with things in thy service that the caravan of my strength is loaded therewith, and is unable to support any farther burthen.
And what living being can endure that they should give the corner of his heart to the fire of injustice, and its fruit to the winds of destruction? and having cast the light of his eyes into the gloom of extinction, should deprive him of the joy of his life? And when I think of my precious offspring, that was the light of my tearful eyes, and the delight of my afflicted breast, the sea of regret rolls its billows, and plunges the vessel of patience into the whirlpool of perturbation, and the flame of the fire of bewilderment, rising higher, consumes at once the goods of endurance and toleration.
And in addition to all this, my life is not safe; and to be cajoled by this politeness and feigned courtesy, appears to me to be far from the practice of wise men. Consequently I repeat the verse, ‘Would to God that between me and thee there was the distance of the east from the west!’455
The king rejoined, ‘If what thou hast done had been without previous provocation, caution and avoidance would have appeared more proper than intercourse. But thou hast acted on the principle of retaliation, and thy deed has been done by way of requital. And the tongue of righteous adjudication enjoins nought else, and the judge of equity, in return for such an act as emanated from my son, directs a recompense of such a nature. Wherefore, what can be the reason of thy keeping aloof? and what the cause of thy aversion? Reflect, I pray, that before my son was born thou wast the companion of my hours and the partner of my life. And when my son made his appearance from the concealment of non-existence in the expanse of entity, paternal love required that I should feel delight in his society. In this I associated him with thee, and passed my life in intercourse with thee and in fond conversation with him. And now that the malignant eye of fortune has inflicted an injury on the jewel of his sight, the enjoyment that I felt in seeing him is broken off; but the gratification of thy discourse, and the joy of addressing and being addressed by thee remains. Act not in such a manner that this too shall be altogether destroyed; and that I, for the remainder of my life, should become a permanent worshiper in the temple of grief, and pass the time with sorrow, and chagrin, and vexation, and despondency. And the case betwixt me and thee is like that of the Musician and the King.’ The Lark inquired, ‘How was that?’
The king said, ‘They have related that a King had a Musician of a pleasant voice, and a sweet performer, who, by his enchanting melodies bore the foot of reason out of the stirrup, and wrested the reins of self-possession from the hand of patience and endurance.
The King held him in high esteem, and was ever pleased with listening to his delightful songs and gladsome lays.
And this Musician was instructing a clever slave, and kindly imparting to him lessons in playing and singing, till, in a short time he surpassed his master, and carried the harmony of his performance and the melody of his song to such a pitch, that the fame of his recitations and odes went beyond the conception of the thought or imagination; and the ears of high and low were altogether filled with the rumor and celebrity of his skill and execution.
The King, having heard of the slave’s accomplishments, deigned to patronize and encourage him; and this was continued until he became a confidential attendant and an intimate favorite, and received especial marks of distinction. The King was ever charmed with his exhilarating strains, which supplied a specimen of the miracles of the Messiah, and was inspired with a desire for the banquet of enjoyment, by the sound of his world-melting lute, which inflamed the hearts of lovers. At this, the spirit of envy being stirred in the heart of the master-musician, he killed the slave; and news of this deed reached the King. The monarch commanded the offender to be summoned into his presence: and when they had conducted him to the place of punishment, the King, with a terrible countenance, began to rebuke him,457 saying, ‘Didst thou not know that I was fond of gaiety? and my enjoyment was of two kinds:—first, in public, at thy playing; and secondly, in private, at the singing of thy slave. What induced thee to kill the slave, and thus deprive me of half my enjoyment? I will this moment command them to cause thee to drink of that same potion which thou gavest to him, that hereafter none may venture on a similar act.’ The words of the King recalled to the mind of the Musician his wit,457a and he replied, ‘O King! I have done ill that I have destroyed half the King’s enjoyment; but how will it be if the King should kill me and so put an end to his own gratification?’ The King was pleased at this answer, and bestowing on him a reward, absolved him from the punishment of death.
And my intention in adducing this story is that, through my son, one portion of happiness and delight is spoiled, and thou, also, soundest the note of separation. It is almost come to pass that the back of my hope, like the figure of the harp, has become bent; and that my afflicted breast, like the heart of the lute, has been lacerated with the nail of regret. And in the end a forcible separation must take place between friends; I pray thee, do not exert thyself to bring about a voluntary parting, and give not from thy hand the skirt of contentment.
The Lark replied, ‘Anger is hidden in the closet of the heart, and resentment is concealed in the cell of the bosom, and as it is impossible for any one to be aware of it, credence cannot be given to what is spoken by the tongue, for in this matter the tongue does not speak in truthful style of the purport of what lies hidden in the mind, and language does not discharge the duty of uprightness in signifying what is hoarded up in the soul. Hearts, however, in accordance with the saying, ‘Hearts bear witness to each other,’ are reciprocally true witnesses, and testimony that can be relied on.
And to what thy tongue is saying, thy heart does not assent; nor is thy tongue truthful in making known what thy heart contains.
O King! I well know the terribleness of thy fury, and am well aware of the awfulness of thy punishments.
I can never be secure from thee, nor repose for a moment from dread of the injury of thy assault. And I am not of that class to one of whom the physician said, ‘Medicine for the eyes is more fitting for thee, than physic for a stomach-ache.’ The King asked, ‘How was that?’
The Lark said, ‘A man came to a physician, and being tortured with pain in his stomach, rolled about on the ground, and wept bitterly at the violence of the pain.
The physician, after the fashion in which men of skill give the precedence over all other things to the rules for ascertaining causes and symptoms, in order that after diagnosis of the disease they may proceed to the use of a remedy which would be the cause of a speedy recovery, inquired of him, ‘What hast thou eaten to-day?’ The simple fellow replied, ‘I have eaten a piece of burnt bread, and with that piece of food, which was only of the size of one’s finger, I have inflamed the oven of my stomach.’ The physician bade his servants bring medicine for clearing the eyesight and strengthening the vision, that he might apply it to the man’s eyes. Hereupon the patient screamed out,
O physician! have done with bantering and leave these jests. I am groaning with pain in my stomach, and thou art applying to my eyes collyrium made of precious stone! What has medicine for the eyes got to do with pain in the stomach?’ The physician replied, ‘I want to clear thy eyesight that thou mayest discern between black and white, and so not eat burnt bread again. Wherefore a cure for the eyes is more requisite for thee than physic for the stomach.’
And my aim in improvising this story is, that the king may not fancy that I am one of those who cannot distinguish between consumed and consummated,458 or discriminate raw from ripe.
The King said, ‘Between friends, many thing happen of the nature of that which has taken place betwixt thee and me, and it is not possible that the road of variance should altogether be lost between man, and the path of contention and altercation be closed up. But every one who is adorned with the light for reason, and decorated with the ornament of understanding, exerts himself to the utmost of his power to quench the flames of wrath; and to the extent of his ability pours the water of meekness on the fire of rage; and is aware that in drinking the beverage of forgiveness, though it may seem excessively bitter, the sweetness of pleasure is included; and that to endure the hard taste of long suffering, though it resembles poison, yet comprehends the antidote joy.
The Lark replied, ‘It is a well-known fact, that ‘Whoever treats sin as a trifle, falls into mischief,’ or he who takes a grave thing lightly will suffer for it. This grave matter, therefore, cannot be treated with levity, and in this serious affair one must not choose to be remiss. I have spent my life in viewing the trickery459a of the juggling heaven, and played away my precious hours in surveying the marvels of deceitful fortune. Assuredly I have gained much assistance from the stores of experience, and derived the utmost profit from the earnings of prudence, and the principal of good sense and sagacity. I have discovered for a certainty, then, that the sparks of free option and the flame of uncontrolled power consume the substructure of promises; and the needle of the pride of prosperity sews up the eye of shame and good faith with the thread of despotism. And when the lion of kingly terror smites the ground with the tail of revenge, cringing and vulpine artifices are unavailing. It is best for me not to allow myself a hare’s sleep,459b and, shuddering at the fury of the tiger, let me, like the deer, take the way to the woods, for it is in no way possible for a weak antagonist to contend with a powerful enemy. Just as that King improvised a story on this subject for his enemy.’ The King asked, ‘How was that?’
The Lark said, ‘They have related that in the country of Turkistán there was a King, the Humá of whose unrivaled spirit spread over the nations of mankind the shade of welfare and winged victory and success, and the ’Anḳá of whose exalted banner raised the head of elevation beyond the nest of the peacocks of the gardens of the sky. His perfect justice bestowed on the affairs of state-administration the most exact order, and his bounty, in which all participated, conducted to a careful completion the important transactions of the crown.
It befell that a doubt arose in the mind of one of the Pillars of the State, and he averted his face from the heaven-resembling vestibule of the King, and, having deceived the King, brought one of his enemies to engage in battle and open hostility with him. When the King learned that his enemy had averted the face of obedience from the shrine of submission, and that the temptations of the rebellious and the seductions of the refractory had penetrated to the foundation of his faith; and that with furious intentions and insensate hopes he was fostering the thought of dominion and chieftainship; and that with a heart full of ancient grudges he was cherishing the expectation of success and elevation; he despatched to him a letter teeming with kindly counsels, and an epistle replete with kingly advice. However, the haughty foe, from the excess of his arrogance and pride, paid no attention to it, and wherever he imagined a rebellious band to exist, drew them to himself by the noose of invitation.
In short, when the King saw that the draught of the medicine of gentleness could not cure their gross temperament, which had altogether turned aside from the path of true moderation, he sent to him a message of the following nature, ‘I and thou resemble the glass and the stone. Strike either the stone on the glass or the glass on the stone, in both cases the glass will break and no harm will happen to the stone.’
Now the advantage of adducing this story is that it may be clear to the luminous mind of the King that I, too, am like the glass, and am unable to encounter the wrath of the King, which is firm and crushing to his enemies as a rock.
Though the King adopts an attitude of conciliation, and desires to soothe with the oxymel of excuses the bile of timidity; still in the school of wisdom it is unlawful to accept the excuses of the rancorous and envious, while it is a command, which it is incumbeut on all to obey, to reply with rejection and denial to the peaceful requisitions of the hostile.
The King said, ‘It is not allowable, on bare suspicion, to sever intercourse and overthrow a friendship, nor is it right, on a surmise which springs from the imagination, to calamitously involve a comrade in the pangs of separation. On a slight doubt to lay aside ancient acquaintance and a well-constituted friendship, and on a trifling uncertainty to let go from the hand the string of the promise of companionship and amicable engagements, is not the custom of men of truth.
Nay, now, the quality of fidelity is found even in a dog, which is the lowest in rank of all animals and the most vile in degree. Why, then, dost thou not draw back thy foot from the plain of faithlessness, and fulfil the compact which thou didst make during our intercourse and friendship?
The Lark replied, ‘How can I lay the foundation of fidelity? On that side the pillars of attachment are overthrown, and the traces of fulfilment of promise altogether effaced. And it is impossible that the king should relinquish those things which cause my terror, and turn away from watching for an opportunity of revenge. Now, as he cannot lay hands upon me by violence and force, he wishes to draw me into the grasp of his revenge by artifice and deceit; and one ought to fear the rancor which has fixed itself in the hearts of kings. For, through the haughtiness of kingly power, they are pertinacious in the matter of vengeance; and when they get an opportunity, they grant no respite for time to plead extenuating circumstances or to offer excuses. And resentments in the breast are like cold charcoal, for though at present no effect is perceptible from them, as soon as the flame of wrath reaches them, they warm up, and the blaze of fury, rising, consumes the world. And the smoke of revenge which ascends from the fire of resentment has dried many brains and moistened many eyes. And it is impossible that as long as a particle of the charcoal of resentment is left in the mine of the breast, one can be secure from the injuries of the flame of wrath.
The King answered, ‘It is strange that in this matter thou takest a one-sided view, and altogether lettest slip the other side. Why may it not be that the preambles of dread may be exchanged for the happy influences of attachment? and after the obscuration of contention the serenity of kindly feeling make its appearance?’ The Lark said, ‘If any one were able to display perfect courtesy and kindness in the due observation of all that regards the other party, and would exert himself to secure the goodwill and happiness of his friends; and regard it as a duty to aid and assist in the obtaining advantages for them, and the repelling detrimental and disagreeable things from them; it is possible that timidity might be removed from between them, and that both the resentful one should be pacified and the heart of the fearer be perfumed with the gentle breeze of security. But I am unequal to the task of entertaining thoughts of this nature, such as would obliterate the springs of resentment and promote the advancement of amity and concord. Should I return to the service of the King, I shall always be in terror and alarm, and every moment I shall behold death afresh. Wherefore it is better to choose avoidance rather than such a return, and to exchange return for separation.
The King said, ‘No one has any power to benefit or injure any one without the will of the great God (may His name be magnified!) so that which befalls any one, whether it be little or much, small or great, happens only by the eternal decree, and through the previous command of Him who suffers no decline. Inasmuch, therefore, as the hand of a creature is unable to create or revivify, it is impossible that it should be the cause of annihilating or producing anything. Thus the deed of my son and thy retaliation occurred through the decree of God and the will of the Almighty, and they were but the means of carrying into execution that order. Do not, therefore, call us to account for the decrees of heaven, nor reprove us for that which has been fated by God, but acquiesce in the dispensations of providence.
The Lark replied, ‘The weakness of created beings to avert the decree of the Creator is manifest and ascertained; and it is apparent and clearly delineated on the pages of the thoughts of people of verity, that the varieties of good and ill, and different degrees of advantage and detriment take place according to the intention and requirement of the ordinance of the Almighty, (may His name be magnified!) and that the averting or prevention of them, or their acceleration or postponement, is not to be effected, ‘There is no repeller of His decree, and no retarder of His mandate.’
And notwithstanding that all sages have been unanimous as to this matter, no one has affirmed that one ought to neglect caution and vigilance, or that self-preservation from disagreeable and calamitous things, ought to be deferred. Nay, they have said that we must provide the means for all things, and commit the completion of affairs to the Causer of Causes.
And the recondite saying, ‘Be wise and trust,’ supports this assertion.
The King rejoined, ‘The sum of this discourse is, that I am desirous of a meeting with thee, and find in my own mind an abundant longing for thy society, and in spite of all this earnest desire that exists on my part, I perceive nothing on thy part but the tokens of chagrin.
The Lark said, ‘Thy strong desire lies in this—to appease thy heart by killing me; and the state of the case is, that my soul does not at present desire to drink the beverage of death, or incline to put on the apparel of extinction; and as long as the reins of option are in my hand, I repudiate the acceptance of these things, and look upon the avoidance of them as the essence of salutary counsel.
And I this day can infer the feelings of the King from my own heart, for could I obtain the power and ability, I should not be satisfied, save by the destruction of the king’s darling464 son; and I feel sure that owing to the distress of his son, the sole wish of the king, too, is for my destruction. Moreover, he that obtains information as to what is concealed in the mind of the unfortunate is he that has been consumed by the fire of the same grief, and who from that source has drunk the sharbat of bitterness. Parties at their ease are ignorant and careless of this state of things, and those nursed in luxury, and who have experienced nought but happiness, are free from the knowledge464a of pain.
And I see with the eye of understanding that whenever the king recalls his son’s [loss of] vision, and I think of my own ‘light of my eyes,’ a difference will be visible in our internal feelings, and a change will manifest itself in our tempers, and one may judge what will spring therefrom, and what circumstances will then arise. On these grounds separation is more prudent than meeting, and distance more expedient than personal vicinity.
The King said, ‘What good can there be in that person who cannot overlook the offences of his friends, nor relinquish feelings of spite and annoyance. And a wise man, of perfect understanding, possesses the power of non-retaliation to such an extent that during his whole life he does not refer to it, nor at any time does any trace of it, little or much, appear on the page of his heart. He accepts, too, with the utmost readiness, the prayers of forgiveness of the guilty, and the excuses of offenders. [Thus it is said], ‘The worst of the wicked is he who will not accept an excuse’; in other words, he is worst among the bad who accepts not excuses, and harbors in his heart resentment against one who apologizes.
And I, for my part, find my mind pure in all I have said; and I do not discover in my heart a trace of the form of wrath, or the fury of anger, or the idea of revenge; and I have always preferred forgiveness to punishment, and have always thought that, however great the offence may be, the quality of forgiveness will be greater.
The Lark replied, ‘This is all true, but I am an offender, and the criminal is always an alarmist; and my case is like that of a person in the sole of whose foot there is a wound. If from the strength of his natural firmness he acts fearlessly, and consents during a dark night to walk through a stony place, there is no escape from opening afresh that wound, so that his foot will be incapable of work, and it will be impossible for him to move even on soft ground. Now my acceding to the service of the king is of the same nature; and, according to law and the canons of my creed, it is a positive duty that I should abstain from it. So it is said, ‘And throw not yourselves with your own hands into perdition;’465 and sages have remarked, ‘Three persons are far from the path of wisdom, and separated from the road of knowledge. The first is he who relies on the strength of his own nature, for such a one undoubtedly casts himself into peril, and his own rashness causes his destruction. The second is he who discerns not the proper amount of food and drink, and eats so much that his stomach is unable to digest it; and this person is, in fact, the enemy of his own life. The third is he who is deceived by the speech of an enemy, and beguiled by the promise of one from whom he cannot be safe, and the conclusion of his affair will certainly turn out to be abasement and repentance.
The King said, ‘O Lark! though I enter by the door of courtesy, and point out to thee the road of welfare and friendly admonitions, thou remainest as before in thy bitterness, and shakest the skirt of thy acceptance free from hearing my advice. Now, advice, with reference to a person who will not accept it, is useless; as was the advice of that Devotee to the Wolf.’ The Lark asked, ‘How was that?’
The King said, ‘They have related that a holy man of virtuous manners—whose august time, after the performance of his daily portions and prescribed prayers, used never to be spent save in exhorting the servants of God—as he passed through a desert place, beheld a Wolf which had opened the mouth of greediness and appetite, and had fixed the eye of covetousness on the road of search. It had devoted its whole spirit to injuring the innocent, and to depriving some animal of life, in order that it might take a part of it to gratify its own rebellious lusts.
The holy man, who observed him in that state, and who perused from the page of his forehead the writing of violence and oppression, in accordance with his natural tenderness and innate clemency, began to admonish him and said, ‘Take care not to approach the sheep-flocks of men, nor to assail the oppressed and the helpless. For the end of injustice is divine punishment, and the conclusion of oppression results in disgrace and torture in the world to come.
In this manner he discoursed and used unbounded urgency in persuading him to abandon cruelty to the flocks of men. The Wolf said, ‘Be so good as to cut short thy advice, as there is a flock grazing behind this waste spot; I fear lest the opportunity for carrying off a sheep should be lost, and then regret will be unavailing.’
Now the object of adducing this story is to shew, that however much I exhort thee, thou persistest obstinately in thy purpose, and givest no heed to my words.
The Lark replied, ‘I have listened to your exhortations, but I have taken counsel of the preacher, wisdom. I regard him as intelligent who always keeps open the door of caution, and places before himself the mirror of experience. I have come to the place, where I am, through excessive fear and terror, and I wisely stand on the brink of the road to escape, and propose to myself a journey in order that I may not fall into the hands of any one; and it is forbidden me to delay longer than this, and to continue in this perplexity and hesitation would justly expose me to censure. For I know that the King looks upon the shedding my blood as lawful, and considers as permissible all that is conceivable in the code of honor. Wherefore my stay is irksome, and it is incumbent on me to depart quickly.
The King rejoined, ‘Here the means of support are ready for thee, and the doors of happiness and tranquillity open to the face of thy heart. It is altogether inexpedient467 to choose voluntarily the hardships of travel and uncertainty as to arrangement for supplies.’ The Lark replied, ‘Whoever makes five qualities the provision for his way and the stock of his existence, go where he will, attains his objects, and acquires friends and comrades in whatever direction he may turn. The first is, to put away evil actions The second, to clothe himself in good conduct. The third is, to shun such things as will expose him to slander. The fourth is, to supply himself with a train of virtues. The fifth is, at all times to observe the duties and graces of social intercourse. One who combines all these qualities will nowhere be left in destitution, but people will cause the dreariness of his exile to be exchanged for the pleasures of friendship.
And when a man of understanding cannot be safe in the city of his birth, and in his fatherland, and among his own kinsmen and relations; he must of necessity choose to separate from his friends and connections, since for all these substitutes can be found, but there is no substitute for his own person.
The King said, ‘For how long wilt thou go, and what length of time wilt thou stop away?’ The Lark replied, ‘O King! expect not that I will come back when I am gone, nor imagine a return after this departure; and this dialogue of ours strongly resembles that of the Arab and the Baker.’ The King inquired, ‘How was that?’
The Lark said, ‘They have related that an Arab of the desert came into the city of Baghdád and saw the shop of a Baker. Round loaves, like the moon’s orb, arose from the horizon of the counter, and biscuits of a starry brightness had ascended to the pinnacle of the shop. Their solar beauty laid the hand of amazement on the face of the sun, and envy468 of the biscuit rent the collar of the afflicted bread.
In short, when the poor Arab, who obtained a gasp of life from the smell of the bread, saw the face of the loaves, he rent the upper coat of patience, and advancing to the Baker, said, ‘O sir! how much wilt thou take to give me my fill of bread?’ The Baker thought to himself, ‘This fellow will have his fill with one man of bread, and two mans will be the outside he can eat, and beyond three mans he cannot get, do what he will.’ He then said, ‘Give me half a dínár and eat as much bread as thou canst.’ The Arab gave the half-dínár and sate down on the brink of the water of the Tigris. The Baker kept bringing the bread, and the Arab went on moistening it with water, and eating, until the price passed half a dínár and reached four dángs,468b and having gone beyond that too, came to a whole dínár. The Baker then lost all patience, and said, ‘O brother Arab! I adjure thee by that God who has bestowed on thee this miraculous power of eating, tell me how long thou wilt continue eating?’ The Arab replied, ‘O sir! be not impatient, for as long as this water continues to flow I also will continue to eat.’
Now the object of adducing this story is, that the King may know that as long as the water of life flows in the ducts of my body, I have no resource but to eat the morsel of fear and alarm, and to consider it impossible to take up advantage from the table of union. And fortune throws separation between us in such a manner that the thought of union is nothing but a vain fancy; and, hereafter, whenever desire prevails, I will inquire of the morning-breeze happy tidings of the King, and will behold in the mirror of imagination, the perfect beauty of his majesty.
The King let fall the drops of regret from the fountains of his eyes, and perceived that that sagacious bird would not come into the snare, and that the desired vengeance would not move gracefully forth from the cabinet of non-existence into the expanse of being. Again he began to strew the grain of deceit, and employed a variety of promises and asseverations. The Lark said, ‘O King! of noble fortune and of brilliant crown and throne, although thou arrangest the substructure of favor and offerest a variety of kindnesses as to the matter of safety and security, and ratifiest the same by attestations worthy of approval and becoming assurances; yet it is impossible that I should draw the ring of servitude through my ear or spread over my shoulder the cloth of obedience.
The King perceived that he could not extract from the foot of the Lark’s heart, the thorn of timidity with the needle of deceit, nor bring back with the strong arm of perfidy, the arrow which had left the string. He469 said therefore, ‘O Lark! I see that from the flower-garden of union, nought but the perfume will reach the nostril of desire, and that the face of interview will not appear save in the mirror of hope.
I desire, however, that by way of a souvenir, thou wouldest utter two or three sentences by the repetition of which the signs of happiness will be observable on the pages of life, and that thou wouldest rub out, by the polisher of friendly admonition, the rust of neglect from the mirror of my mind, which has been clouded by the dust of grief.
The Lark said, ‘O King! the affairs of mortals are carried on in accordance with destiny. And therein they have allotted to none a discretionary power as to augmentation or the reverse, or anticipation or postponement. Nor can any one know if they have affixed to his name the diploma of happiness, or have entered him in the roll of the wretched. But it is incumbent on all to direct their affairs according to the requirements of right reason, and to use their utmost endeavors in the observance of caution and vigilance. If their counsel accords with destiny, they are of themselves established on the throne of prosperity and the cushion of dignity and state. But if circumstances turn out adverse, it both happens that friends accept the excuse, and railers, too, fail in finding an opportunity for disparagement.
And, moreover, it should be known that the most visionary of possessions is that of which there is no fruition; and the most negligent of kings is he who does not apply himseif to protect his country and coerce his subjects; and the most execrable of friends is he who deserts his friend in the time of distress and adversity; and the most unserviceable of wives is she who agrees not with her husband; and the worst of sons is he who refuses to obey his parents; and the most desolate of cities is that in which there is neither security nor cheapness; and the most unpleasant intercourse is that in which the hearts of the associates are not right to each other. And as suspicion has arisen in my intercourse with the King, it is most proper to relinquish it; and it is most in accordance with the advisable course to exchange the language of friendship for the terms of truce.
With these words the Lark brought the discussion to an end, and flying from the battlements of the castle took her way to the desert. The King bit the finger of regret with the tooth of amazement; and after lamenting some time, turned his face towards his palace with grief exceeding computation or conception, and with chagrin that overpassed the bounds of comprehension, and said,
This is the story of being cautious of the perfidious ambushes of the resentful, and of avoiding to test the sincerity of their entreaties and bewailings, and of placing confidence in the hypocritical friendship of foes; and of not being deceived by the fraud and artifice which they employ to secure their revenge. And let it not be hid from the man of understanding that the intention of narrating these things is no other than this, that the prudent man ought to regard every one as a guide in the accidents of fortune and in the disasters of life, and to base his proceedings on the requirements of reason and good counsel, and in no wise to rely on an enemy that has been vexed, and not to sit down secure from the calamitous effects of deceit and the danger of guile.
Dábishlím said respectfully to the perfect sage, the Bráhman of profound mind, ‘I have heard the story of one whose heart was not tranquilized by the caresses of an enemy whose feelings had been wounded; and who, when he saw the signs of hostility and marks of rancor remaining, was not to be shaken from the path of caution, though his foe did his utmost to conciliate him. Now the fires of eager desire have been kindled within me, and so long as a shower from the fountain of the Ninth Precept does not reach my consumed heart, the burning impatience of my mind will not be allayed. I entertain a confident hope that you will narrate a story which shall comprehend the subject of the clemency of kings and their indulgence, and that you will recount whether, when a king, after the infliction of severe punishment on his attendants, beholds in them the evident tokens of crime and transgression, he ought again to shew them favor or not? Also, whether or not it would be in accordance with prudence to place confidence in such persons, by restoring to them their offices?’ Bídpáí, with a pleasing voice and in an exhilarating style, replied, ‘If kings close up the door of forgiveness and clemency, and in whatever quarter they discover a slight offence, command the offender to be chastised, their attendants will lose all unmixed confidence in them, and not rely on them farther. And from this state of things two calamities will arise—first, all affairs will be paralysed and conducted with remissness; and secondly, offenders will be deprived of the sweet taste of clemency and the favor of indulgence. Moreover one of the greatest princes has said, ‘If people knew what gratification the palate of my soul finds in forgiveness they would bring no other offering to my heart than errors and offences.
There is no ornament more becoming to the state of princes than clemency, and no more brilliant evidence to the perfection of the worth of the noble among the sons of Adam than pardon and indulgence. And the import of the miraculously-gifted saying of His Highness the Prince of Mankind (On him be the choicest benedictions and blessings!) viz., ‘Ha! I will teach you, who is the strongest of you,—he who governs himself when in anger,’—graciously points out that one may discover the power of a man by his quenching the flame of wrath, and that the proofs of manliness and magnanimity may be learned by the capacity to swallow down the distasteful beverage of anger.
And the most admirable quality of kings is to make high-minded reason their guide in all that befalls them, and at no time to suffer their character to be deficient in graciousness and due severity. But their indulgence ought to be of such a nature as not to verge towards weakness; and their severity should be such as to be clear from the reproach of cruelty, so that their rule may be adorned with the two characteristics of beauty and grandeur, and the axis of the state may revolve on the display of terror and the good tidings of hope. Thus neither will the attached despair of a kindness which will be void of limit, nor will the rebellious set foot in the world of audacity through fear of punishment.
And the sages of the true religion (May God reward them with good!) have said that God Most High hath given His people virtuous qualities by the admonitions of the Ḳur’án and the instructions of that holy book, and hath given them a longing for approved customs and laudable habits. Thus all, whoever they may be, to whom infinite happiness lends aid and assistance, and eternal wisdom supplies support and countenance, will make the mandates of the Ḳur’án the point of adoration of their hearts and the sanctuary of their souls; and they will ever, with heart and soul, turn towards the honored shrine of this temple of security and peace. And of the number of the said admonitions is a verse which comprehends all the truths of this assertion above made, and its word is most high, ‘Who bridle their anger, and forgive men; for God loveth the beneficent.’473 And one of the leaders of religion has, with the tongue of verity, explained this verse in the following manner: To restrain anger is, not to go to excess in punishment; and forgiveness is, to obliterate the trace of aversion from the page of the heart; and beneficence is, to return a second time to a friend that has offended and made his excuse; and the sum and substance of the verse is to base one’s proceedings on kindness and gentleness, and to observe carefully in all matters politeness and benignity. For it has been handed down among true traditions, that if benevolence could be represented in a bodily shape the splendor of its beauty would so glitter and shine that no eye would be able to endure the sight of it, and no one would ever have beheld a more graceful form, or a more comely appearance. And an eminent personage, in a single couplet of the following stanza, expresses all this.
And should this matter be duly pondered, it will undoubtedly be discerned that the dignity of man is increased by the excellence of a forgiving and beneficent disposition. Wherefore our best efforts should be directed to the cultivation of these two qualities. Moreover, it is not hidden [from our knowledge] that man cannot be devoid of faults and negligence, and offences and failings. If, then, every offence brings out a manifestation of severity, and every crime developes a corresponding punishment, a general injury will be occasioned, which will spread through the departments of finance and government.
Again, it behoves a king to estimate the extent of the friendship, and the sincerity of the counsels, and the merits and ability of the person who has exposed himself to aspersions; in order that, if he be of the number of those who can aid in the counsels of the state, or from whose advice assistance may be anticipated in the events which time brings about; the king may then exert himself to restore his own confidence in him, and take speedy measures to encourage and promote him. Let him regard this course, therefore, as free from danger and doubt; and restore his heart, by conciliation and entreaty, to its wonted tranquillity. For there is no limit to state emergencies, and it is also certain that kings stand in need of efficacious advisers and trustworthy officers, who deserve to be entrusted with secrets, and possess aptitude for discretionary powers in the affairs of government. Wherefore it befits the regal position to promote those parties who are adorned with perfect understanding, and hortatory powers and merit, and abstinence from what is forbidden, and are graced with rectitude and uprightness, and piety and honesty; and who are distinguished from their fellows by gratitude and good advice, and loyalty and attachment. And as a means thereto, they ought to learn what office suits each, and to what department each should fittingly be attached; and to appoint each individual to some business, according to his capacity and the extent of his judgment and valor, and in proportion to his understanding and ability. And if in any one, together with merit, be found a fault, of that, too, kings should not be neglectful; for no creature can be found faultless. And they have said,
And in this particular, caution is requisite to such an extent, that if any one should embarrass matters which he is called upon to superintend, he should he removed from the government; and if another, by his very abilities, should disturb his department, he, too, should be avoided. For though this is a state of things which is impossible, that abilities should prejudice anything, nevertheless, the above injunction has been given in order that it may be known that to obtain one’s object, even men of ability and merit may be discarded; whence it will be the more expedient to elongate oneself from people fatuous and prone to error. Consequently, from the right understanding of this subject, and the recognition of these points, it becomes the duty of kings that they should execute the diligent exploration of the matters, and inquire into the employments, which they commit to the care of their officers and superintendents, so that they may be minutely475 conversant with the affairs of finance and government. And in this, two important advantages are discernible. One is that it will be thence known who of the superintendents are cherishers of the subjects, and who are their oppressors. Thus the king must take care to caress those who are tender towards the people, and support them in that course; and obliterate from the book of employment his name who cares not for those under him, and enter it in the register of disgrace.
And further, when this idea has been impressed on the minds of all, that the king keeps the rewards of the actions of well-doers at hand in the best possible way, and thinks it incumbent on him to punish traitors in proportion to their guilt: then the good, being inspired with hope, will not be remiss and supine towards acting rightly; and mischievous persons, becoming alarmed and terrified, will not act with audacity and fearlessness as regards sedition and wrong-dealing to others. Now the tale of the Lion and the Jackal is a story suited to these premises.’ The King asked, ‘How was that?’
The heading of this story has been omitted in the index of the printed edition.
↩Mount Caucasus.
↩The rikábdár is a running footman, who sometimes assists himself when the pace is great, or the journey long, by holding the stirrup of the grandee whom he attends.
↩The miṭharah is a vessel with a spout from which they pour water in making their ablutions.
↩Observe this somewhat unusual sense of ’itibdr.
↩This chapter corresponds with the Third of the Sanskrit ‘Pancha-Tantra;’ the Eleventh of the Arabic ‘Kalílah Damnah;’ the Ninth of the Persian ‘’Iyár Dánish;’ and also the Ninth of the Hindústání ‘Khirad Afrúz.’
↩Stewart translates, ‘the favor of ministers.’ He must, therefore have read díwánán for the díwánagán of the editions and of the MSS. in my possession.
↩Lit., ‘wounded eye.’
↩Observe the phrase dil az já burdan, ‘to be dismayed.’
↩I read with the MSS. and Stewart bíshtar for the píshtar of the editions.
↩Observe the phrase pai-i kárí giriftan, ‘to go about one’s business;’ and a little lower in the hemistich, pai-i kárí nishastan, which, according to Stewart, signifies ‘to wait one’s leisure.’
↩Stewart translates, ‘I am acquainted with a secret, unknown to thy mouth.’ He takes bá dihán with nihání, and is thus compelled to give an unusual meaning to bd. In any case, the bá dihán comes in very awkwardly, unless we suppose that a lover is speaking, and the secret message is a kiss.
↩Stewart renders, ‘Falsehood possesses no estimation in my breast;’ but as dilhá is plural, I have rendered it as above. Literally the sentence is, ‘To a false word in hearts there is no illumination.
↩Damár az nihád-i man bar ávardan, lit.: ‘To bring ruin out of my nature.’
↩This story is not in the Arabic, but has been introduced by Ḥusain Vá’iz.
↩This is Stewart’s rendering of nuḳl. The Dictionary only says that it signifies ‘fruits or sweetmeats sent round at entertainments.’
↩I have chosen these words to preserve the jingle in the original between ḥarakat and barakat.
↩Stewart affirms this to be a quotation from the Ḳur’án. I am unable to find it there.
↩Observe the phrase, bá khúd rást namí tawánam ávard.
↩I find no authority for this version of síráb, except Stewart’s translation: síráb pro-perly means ‘moist,’ ‘bathed in raindrops or dew.’
↩I beseech the candid reader who would judge of the difficulties of a translator from the Persian, to examine these lines. Well may Stewart say that is is impossible to translate them literally, or to understand them, without reference to a dictionary. The round face of the youth is compared to the moon; and his black ringlets to a bat used at the game of chaugán. These bats have a hollow in them to catch the ball more readily: so the ringlets are said to have caught in the space between them the moon of his face. The down of his beard is compared to herbage growing near the water of life; and as Khiẓr or Elias is said to have drunk of the water of life, occasion is taken for an equivoque upon his name, and khaẓar ‘verdure.’
↩Táftah. Stewart translates this ‘eclipsed,’ a meaning it could hardly bear, but he may have had a different reading.
↩That is, ‘eyes.’
↩Abraham’s Father, who is said to have made idols of exquisite beauty.
↩The áyat is a verse of the Ḳur’án. The lady is compared to a new verse of that book freshly revealed.
↩Libás signifies generally ‘apparel,’ but also ‘spouse.’ Thus an equivoque may be intended. Stewart translates it here ‘wretched state,’ and I have followed him, but I know of no authority for such a rendering.
↩Stewart translates gulgún ‘beautiful and of various hues.’ Orientals, however, represent lovers as weeping tears of blood. The courser, therefore, may have been of a rose or roan color.
↩Shabdíz signifies ‘Night-color.’
↩Stewart justly says of this impracticable couplet, ‘This verse cannot be literally translated.’ Nevertheless, to get the words into metre at all, I have been obliged to be literal. To be bí sar o pá, signifies ‘to be wretched,’ in Persian. Whereas, in the second line, the phrase is to be taken literally, ‘without head or foot,’ as in Stewart’s version, which is, ‘I travel round the world, although destitute of the means, in pursuit of my love; but how can I succeed, who have neither head to direct me, nor feet to carry me.’
↩The farsakh, of which the Greeks made ‘parasang,’ is about three miles.
↩Stewart translates maḥallí here ‘spot,’ which meaning also it may bear.
↩Stewart translates this obscure line, ‘And the tree is cut down from the number of the sound,’ which on first reading is rather difficult to understand. I have no doubt an equivoque is intended on shumár ‘number,’ and shimár, ‘a hard wood of which the handles of axes are made.’
↩I notice, for the benefit of the student, two misprints in this page in the printed edition. Here we have matsáḳ for míṯáḳ, and at line 3 of the same page (370), manḳaẓat for manḳaṣat, ‘loss.’
↩Búdah-i, ‘thou hast been;’ i.e., during the time of our acquaintance without my knowing of it.
↩This appears more accurate than Stewart’s version, ‘As soon as the Phœnix of the morning had bent his flight to the eastern horizon.’
↩I am doubtful of the exact sense of páí kashán here. Stewart omits it.
↩I follow Stewart in translating thus. I am persuaded, however, that an equivoque is intended, as the Persian may equally well mean, ‘Pretend not not to have seen me as thou art my sight;’ i.e., dear to me as sight.
↩Stewart omits the translation of this story.
↩There is an absurd pun here on the word símurgh, which, if written separately, sí murgh signifies, ‘thirty birds.’
↩That is, according to Stewart, ‘distant intercourse.’
↩The editions read muḥmil-i níkú; but I would substitute the reading of the MSS., maḥall-i níkú, which appears to me to be undoubtedly the true reading.
↩Lit., ‘became equal with the ground.’
↩The printed edition has here khárí for khwárí; and in the next line mashghúl shud for mashghúl báyad shud.’
↩For the marwaṭ-i maruwat of the editions, I feel inclined to read, with some MSS., ṭaríḳah-i maruwat, and I have translated accordingly. However, some may prefer marwaṭ, as referring to the temple of Makkah mentioned just before.
↩The word ṭawáf signifies the circumambulation of the K’abah by pilgrims, which they are enjoined to do seven times.
↩That is, ‘Wise-heart.’
↩The temple at Makkah.
↩Ḳur’án, Fl. ii. 17; Mar. 18; Sale, p. 3, 1. 7: ‘These are the men, who have purchased error at the price of true direction: but their traffic hath not been gainful, neither have they been rightly directed. They are like unto one who kindleth a fire, and when it hath enlightened all around him; God taketh away their light and leaveth them in darkness, they shall not see; they are deaf, dumb, and blind, therefore will they not repent.’
↩Kur’án, Fl. xlii. 38; Mar. 39; Sale, p. 360, 1. 27, ‘But the reward, which is with God is better, and more durable for those who believe, and put their trust in their Lord; … and who, when an injury is done them, avenge themselves, (and the retaliation of evil ought to be an evil proportionate thereto;) but he who forgiveth, and is reconciled unto his enemy, shall receive his reward from God; for He loveth not the unjust doers.’
↩From these lines we may learn the distinction between dúst and rafíḳ, and yár and áshná; these words being in fact a descending series.
↩This couplet is evidently out of its place. It should follow the hemistich, otherwise it directly contradicts the speaker’s sentiments.
↩Lit., ‘Turn me round thy head.’ This means ‘devote,’ as in the ceremony of taking another’s calamities upon one. Vide Ḳánún-i Islám, p. 92, note.
↩Ḳur’án, Fl., xliii. 37; Mar. 36; Sale, p. 362, last line: ‘Whoever shall withdraw from the admonition of the Merciful, we will chain a devil unto him; and he shall be his inseparable companion: (and the devils shall turn them aside from the way of truth; yet they shall imagine themselves to be rightly directed;) until, when he shall appear before us at the last day, he shall say unto the devil, Would to God that between me and thee there was the distance of the east from the west!’
↩I presume the sky is meant here, but must plainly avow my ignorance of the true signification of this line, and would thankfully receive an explanation.
↩Náhíd, ‘the planet Venus.’
↩Az rúí-i haibat, ‘in a terrible manner.’
↩Lit., ‘poesy.’
↩I have used these words to express the equivoque on súkhtah and sákhtah, ‘burnt,’ and ‘made.’
↩To have dust on one’s head or breast is a sign of woe or disgrace, which the sea is said to escape because it swallows everything, as the meek man is said farú khwurdan, to swallow his anger.
↩Muhrah bází, ‘passing off shells for pearls,’ or something equivalent to what is vulgarly called ‘thimble-rig.’
↩Hares are said to sleep with their eyes open. Hare’s sleep then is a proverbial expression for the waking slumber of the careless.
↩If he dread thee, and therefore, though hating thee, try to conciliate, reject his offers, and give him just ground for his fears by inflicting all the evil possible upon him.
↩By rú púshhá here, I imagine ‘causes’ are compared to ‘brides;’ the point of resemblance being in the veil that sometimes covers the former, and the latter always.
↩Lit., ‘lustre of the eyes.’
↩Lit., ‘devoid of the ornament of pain.’ This sounds absurd in English, but the Persians are ever straining after a metaphor, however ridiculous.
↩Ḳur’án, Fl. ii. 191; Mar. 197; Sale, p. 21, l. 19; ‘A sacred month for a sacred month, and the holy limits of Mecca, if they attack you therein, do ye also attack them therein in retaliation; and whoever transgresseth against you by so doing, do ye transgress against him in like manner as he hath transgressed against you; and fear God, and know that God is with those who fear him. Contribute out of your substance toward the defence of the religion of God, and throw not yourselves with your own hands into perdition; and do good, for God loveth those who do good.’
↩Observe the phrase hích wajahí na dárad, which is not unlike our vulgar expression,—‘to be all nohow.’
↩The editions have a misprint here, súr for súz, which might delay the student. The passage is somewhat obscure. Perhaps shamsí and sang pukht, though not found in the Dictionary, are kinds of biscuit, in which case it will be difficult to name them properly in English, as ‘sun-cake,’ and ‘stone-bake,’ would sound somewhat ridiculous.
↩Ḳur’án, Sale, p, 70, 1. 16. Abraham is called ‘the friend of God.’ Hence this Patriarch is known among Muḥammadans by the term Khalílu’lláh, ‘friend of God.’ For an account of Abraham’s dispute with Nímrúd, and that tyrant’s casting him into a fire, which changed into a pleasant meadow; see Sale, p. 247, and the notes there.
↩A dínár in Hindústán is worth 2 1/2 rupees, or 30d. See Ḳánún-i Islám, p. 59. A dáng is the one-sixth of a dínár.
↩I would recommend, that, in accordance with the best MSS., instead of malik guft, which is the reading of the editions, we should read simply guft.
↩Ḳur’án, Fl. iii. 128; Mar. 134; Sale, p. 47, 1. 16: ‘And run with emulation to obtain remission from your Lord, and paradise, whose breadth equalleth the heavens and the earth, which is prepared for the godly; who give alms in prosperity and adversity; who bridle their anger and forgive men: for God loveth the beneficent.’
↩Observe the phrase, naḳír ú ḳiṭmír, lit., ‘the groove in a date-stone, from which the stalk grows, and the thin pellicle that covers the stone;’ hence, any minutiæ.
↩