'ûmy. " ''^^smmı^ fs wnirc fen ^fe^ 5* ^Aavjifln-ı^ '^^OKmmu^ ^\ «MIIBRA ^ a ^ y^\___k^ «^ 1 lı*^ â § 1 İr 1 - > :5; I ~ /A < U)^ i^^| =vıj:=r§ ?/-..x ş 5 ...v:^ ^^.--"v..v§ ^AHvaanî!^ ^OAavaanı^ '^ ^^ .\\^lliNIVtKyA. vvUAANlflfr ^i î^l 'î.^ -._.... .^ ^ ^ ^OFCAllFO^ij, '^>öAHVMn-^^ '^oAHVHani^'^ % 3 ,\W{UNlVtRy/A. v/ f s > ^lOSANCFU;^ "^^mımu^ ^5Î5\FUNIVER% ^lOSANCFlf/^ %13DNVS01^ "^/SajAINfl-JWV d: 3D f ^OFCAIIFO/?^ ^OFCAIIFO^^ ^^w^UNlVER% o ^lOSANC "^AaaAiNflJVW I §1 ır-^ ^.aojııvjjo>^ öAnv!iani>^ (J r r o M A N P OEM s TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH VERSE IN THE ORIGINAL FORMS S^ith Introbuctton, loiogntphical Notices, anb i^otts BY I K. I . W. CI I', r,. M . R. A . S LONDON IRL'IJXHK \- CMX, 1 . C 1 ) ( ; A I' !•: II II. I.. V...Q. GLASGOW WIl.SO.N \ M. (OK M IC K. SAINT \' I N ( ! 1> N T S T R ?: E T EXDIBLIOTHECA FRANC. BARINGER EDITION 345 Copies, of lo/iich 45 (numbered) Copies are printed on Dutch hand-made paper. TO AMKS WILLIAM LLDIKMSL, LS(). MKMIiER OK TlIK ROYAL ASIATIC SOCIETY OK GKKAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND, HONORARY MEMHER OK lllK ROYAL SOCIETY OF LITERATURE, ETC., I DEDICATE THESE PAGES. 1845050 PREFACE. 'T~^HE object of the following pages is to place within the reach of English readers a concise account of the poetic art as cultivated by the Ottoman Turks. No work on the subject existed in the English language till 1S79, ^vhcn .Mr. Redhouse published his Essay On the History ^ System, ami Varieties of TurJâsJı Poetry. That little treatise, excellent so far as it goes, is, unfortunately, very brief ; and lack of space precludes that amount of detail necessary to enable the non-Orientalist reader to form a clear idea of the structure and scope of Eastern verse. Indeed, such was not the i)urpose of the little book, which was written at a time of wild and unreasoning feeling against the Ottomans, to show how far removed from truth were the fulminations of certain excited orators who denounced the 'I'urks as being, amongst other things, illiterate barbarians. Some of the poems translated in the present volume are to be found in German, in the Baron Von Hammer-Purgstall's magnificent work. Die GescliicJite der Osmanischen Dichtkunst ; a few in M. Servan de Sugny's Muse Ottomane (which is merely a selection of Von Hammer's translations rendered into French verse) ; but the majority have never before been, so far as I know, presented in any European language. T am well aware that sonic apology is necessary for the form in which 7 ,iii PR Eh AC E. these translaiiuns ai)i)car ; ii may seem i)icsum])tuou.s that one who has no rlaim to l)c a poet should lake ui)on himself to offer in verse the poetry K^\ a foreign people ; and had I been unable to reproduce a form of versi- fuation similar to that whivh holds in Turkish, I should either have presented the translations in prose, or left them alone altogether. My object in reproducing, as closely as possible, the metres and rhyme-movements of the originals has been to give the reader, unacquainted with Eastern languages, a distinct idea of the construction and sound which prevail in Turkish verse. While so doing, I have endeavoured not to allow translation to degenerate into paraphrase : I have rendered line for line as well as rhyme for rhyme, and, never, when I could help it, omitted an expression which occurred in the Turkish text, or added one which was not to be found there. I have, further, preserved the Oriental metaphors and similes without modification ; some of these may appear startling, even repulsive, to the purely English reader ; others will be unintelligible without the aid of notes, so widely do Eastern customs and Eastern lore differ from those of the West. It will thus be seen that my aim has simply been to present accurate translations thrown into versified forms, approaching, as nearly as may be, those of the originals. The Turkish of most of the poems translated in the following pages will be t'ound in Ziya Beg's Kharâbât, AVickerhauser's H'eg-weiscr '^um Verstiitidniss der TiirkiscJun Sprache, Mr. Redhouse's Turkish Poetry, or the fourth volume of the Tarikh-i ^Atâ ; the poems by the Sultans are, for the most part, taken from the last-mentioned work. PREFACE. ix The Introduction consists of three Sections ; the First of which treats of the general character of Ottoman Poetry ; the Second, of the various forms in which it finds expression ; and the Third, very briefly, of its history. The Biographical Notices of the Poets represented by translations arc intended to supplement the Third Section of the Introduction ; the Notes, to serve as a sort of commentary to the poems. It is my pleasing duty gratefully to acknowledge my obligations to Mr. J. ^^'. Redhouse for much valuable assistance most kindly given ; also to Mr. ^\'. A. Clouston, editor of Arabiau Poetry for Eni:;lish Readers, for his courtesy in seeing my work through the press. I have only to add that I would fain hope that the present little work may induce other and more gifted students to labour in the same field, and, in the meantime, pcrhai)s tend, in some small measure, to dissipate the dark cloud of ignorance and prejudice, and secure, if not respect and esteem, at least justice, for a noble and gifted nation. K. J. \v. Gii'.r.. LocinvooD, Lanarksiiirf., Mil}', 18S2. ORIEN'IAL WORDS. An approximately correct pronunciation of the Turkish words will be attained by attending to the following observations. The Ottoman vowel-system is extremely elaborate ; but it is needless to enter into it in a work like the present. a and â may be pronounced as a in "father," the latter rather longer than the former, e in " when." i in "thin." i in "ravine." o in "go." oo in "good," the latter rather longer. the word " eye." ey in " thej-." ch in "church." in "get ;" never soft, as in "gem." ch in the German word "Nacht." Until the true pronuncia- tion is acquired, it is better to pronounce this letter (it is a single letter in Turkish) as a single h than as a k ; thus "han" is a better pronunciation for "I'/ian" than "kan." k. It is used here to replace the Semitic Çâ/J of which it is the lineal descendant, cf. Qarashat and Q R S T. sharp, as in "set ; " never soft like z, as in "reason." in "shall." ' represents the Arabic letter ^Ayn ; and ' the sign Hemza, or (in Arabic compound names) an elided F.lif. These are not sounded in the language of Constantinople. 1 o u and Û ay ey ch kh sh The other letters present no difficulty, they are to be pronounced as in English. SULTANS OF 'J'HK HOUSE OF 'OSMÂN. 'OSiMAN succeeded his father Er 'I'ogrul, son of Süleyman Sliixh, as Chief of liis tribe in 687 (12S8); he became an independent sovereign on llie dis^ohilion of the Seljûııl Empire in 699 (1299). A s(ar(*) Ijcfore a Sultan's name indicates that verses written by him arc extant. A word in italics after a Sultan's name is his takhallus or nom de plume. The dates arc those of the sovereign's accession, according to the Muslim and Christian 'OsMÂN I. Orkhan Mlirâd L B7VYK/Jl) I. son of Er Toğrul son of 'Osman I. son of Orkhan son of Murad I. I nterregnu m. (The Princes Süleyman, 'İsa, Musa, and Muhammed, sons of lîâyezîd I., fight for the throne) ... son of Bâvezul I. ... son of Muhammetl I. son of Murad II. son of Muhammed II. son of Bâyczîd II. 5 MUHAMMEI) I. 6 *.MuK.\i) II., MıırâdT, ... 7 *MUI[AMMKI) II., '■Avilt, 8 *B.\YEZÎi) II., 'Aim, ... 9 *Si:i.Im I., SflJiitJ, 10 *SULKYMÂN I., Muhibbi, son of Selîm I. 11 *.Sei.Im II., SelJml, ... son of Süleyman I. 12 *.\IUK.\D III., MunldT, sun of Selîm II. . 13 *.\IUIIAMMKIJ III., "-AdH 14 *.\ii.MEi) I., BakhiT, 15 *.\IusrAFA I. 16 *'O.SM.VN II., IdrisT, . . MlISIAIW I 17 *MuK.\u IV., A/ititldl,... 18 İHK7V11ÎM 19 MUHA.MMEU IV. 20 SUI.KVMÂN II. ... 21 AllMKIJ II *.\IusTAKA II., IijbillT, ... *.\I1MEI) III. •.MahmTd I., SabijatT, ... 'OSM.ÎN III .Mustafa III. ... 'Ahdu-'l-IIamId I. 28 *SeiJm III., /nitviiT, 29 Mustafa IV. ... 30 *Mahmi"i) II., 'Adlî, 31 'Ahdu-'l-Mkjİd 32 '.Ahdu-'l-'Azîz 33 *MUKÂD V. 34 'AiİDU-'i.-IIamTd II. son of Murâd III. son of Mulıammed III. son of Muhammed III. son of Ahmed I. (restored) son of Ahmed I. ... son of Ahmed I. ... son of Ibrâhîm son of Ibrâhîm son of Ibrâhîm son of Muhammed IV. son of Muhammed I\'. son of Mustafa II. son of Mustafa II. son of Ahmed III. son of Ahmed III. son of Mustafa III. son of 'Abdu-'l-IIamid son of 'Abdu-'l-Ilamîd son of M ah m fid II. son of Mahuuid II. son of 'Abdu-'l-Mejid son of 'Al)du-"1-Meiîd A.M. A.I). 699 299 726 325 761 359 791 389 804 402 816 413 S24 421 855 45' 886 481 918 512 926 520 974 566 982 574 1003 595 IÛ12 003 1026 617 1027 618 I. .31 622 1032 623 1049 640 105S 648 IC9S G87 I IU2 6yi 1 106 695 >>'5 703 1 143 730 1108 754 1171 757 11S7 773 1203 789 1222 807 1223 808 «255 839 1277 801 »293 876 1 293 876 'I' II I', i' i..\ r I-: s. TliK ingenious .V"S<'/» llıc original uf wliich, in tlıe shaj)!.' of a sort of svlıccl, forms ıh' KkontisI'IF.CIC lo this volume, was contriluılcd by Mr. Kalliousc lo the Jour nn I of the A'ay. Asiatic Suiiiiy (Vol. xviii, Amv Serii-s, ı8öı). The poem, as figured in the plate, is lli. tlescrihed : " Tiie letter at the centre is the first and last letter of every distich ; the leltci in tJie radii arc the penultimates of each distich, and, read inversely, folhjw the initial in the next succeeding distich. The words in the intersectional compartments arc common lo cacli of the intersecting verses. Tlie ode begins and ends at llie centre, through the r.-wlius which points directly upwards." The following is a transliteration of this curious composition : a translation will be found on page 128. Yâr gelip, 'âshicjin men/.ilini cjilsa jay, Etmeye-mi gun-yuziui didcsini rfishenay? Yanasliip ol mâlı ya klianjer-i ser-tiz gil'i, Eyleye agyâıimin sinesini hemclui nây ! Yan verip, ey meh-licjâ ! cjachma bu ganı-kh,âra(len ! Âiesh-i 'ishqin ila yanmağa gurnıe revây ! Yaver olursa eğer lutf-i Khudâ bir quia. Bir pûIa muhtâj iken, dehra olur pâdishây ! Yash dushup dîdeılen, rûyun eder ârzû ; Qudrel ila, gunyuzun olmada shebnem-rubây. Yab reh-i tejridda, 'âqil isen bir ribât, Qâtile'-i ehl-i 'ishcj eyleye kâr])ânserây. Yâr-i ser-firâz-i men ! seuJa o guz qash ki var, Qatli ichin 'ashiqin, ya ne gerek oq u yay ? Yayip o kâküllerin, gun-yuzun qildin niqab : Menzili 'aqrebda ya munkesif olmushdur ay? Yâr delerisa cger sinemizi, tja'iliz ; Tek bizi ol melı-liq;l lulfuna gursun sezîly. Yaz, semender gibi, yanmağa lâlib kim. Ey qalem ! 'arz el, eğer dilerisa ol Uumây. Ya melı-i rakhshende mi dehra ziyâ-bakhsh olan ; Til'ati rüyun-mi dir, Tdema veren jilfıy ? Ya lejj edip, mi'dda'i gun-yuzun inkâr eder, Eylerdi ol gabi 'âqil isa, zerra ra'y. Yâra eder ehl-i 'isluı, durmayip, 'arz-i luıner ; Nevbet-i 'arz-i luıner senda-mi, shâhTn giray? The Portraits ok the Sultans are fac-simile copies of four of the copperplates in Prince Cantemir's History of the Othinan Empire, published, in London, in 1734. Demetrius Can- temir. Prince of Moldavia, resided for several years, about the close of the seventeenth century, at the Court of Constantinople. There he persuaded his friend Leuni (Levni?) Chelebi, the Sultan's painter, to make for him copies of all the portraits of the Sultans wiiich were preserved in the Seraglio. These along with the Prince's Latin manuscript were presented by his son to Mr. Tindal, the English translator, who published exact copies of them along with the English version of the History. It is noteworthy that these pictures agree perfectly, both in the features and costumes of the Sultans, with the descriptions given by Von Hammer, in his History, of a set of such portiaits in his possession. CO NTH NTS. Introduction I. GicN'iiRAL Character of Ottoman Poetry til. Ottoman \'ersk-Forms and Metres III. Rise and Progress of Ottoman Poetry .. r T o iM A N P o E r s 'Ashiq Pasha Aliiiic'.lT Shc-ykhî Yaziji-Oglu Sultan Murâd II. 'Avnl (Sultan Muliammed II.) 'Aden! (Mahnuid Pa.slia) /Vfılâbî Zeynel» Prince Jeni Ahmed Pa.sha N'ejâtî Mcsîhî lliuînıî (Prince (^or(|utr Mihrl Selimi (Sultan .Selim I.) MuhibİJÎ (Sultan Sulejuuui I.) l'igâuî Lruui'i Kemâl Pasha-Zâda Cnzâlî Ishâc] Ciielehi TRY /'itgf xix xxxiv RY xlvii Translations BlOGRAl'HIES Page I . Page 165 2-4 166 5-7 167 8-IO 169 I I 170 12-14 170 15-16 •73 17 174 iS 174 19-20 174 21 177 22-26 179 27-29 1S2 30 IS3 31-32 .84 33 185 34-35 186 36 I8S 37-42 189 43 191 45-47 192 48 •93 CONTENTS. O T T OMAN I' O K T S — Continued. Translations Biographies Zâlî Tage 49 ••• Peg' '94 Luifî SO •• 195 Miiklilisi (I'rincc Mustafa) 51 .. I95 Khiyâli 52 •• 196 Slı.îlıî (Trincc IJâyezîd) ... ... ... ... 53 ... 196 Fuzriii 5466 ... 196 Fazlî 67 ... 197 Nislıânî 70 ••■ 198 Sclîmî (Sultan Selim II.) 71-73 •■• '99 Shemsi Pasha 74 ••• 200 Yahya Beg 75 •■ 200 Muı-âdi (Sultan Murâd III.) 76 ... 2ol Bâqî 77-96 ... 202 'Adlî (Sultan Muhammed III.) 97 ... 205 Baklıti (Sultan Ahmed I.) 98 ... 207 Fârisî (Sultan 'Osman II.) 99 ••• 207 'Atâ'î 100 ... 207 Nef'i 102 ... 208 Hâfiz Pasha 103 ... 208 Murâdi (Sultan Murâd IV.) 104-106 ... 2lo 'Azizî 107-108 ... 211 Nâ'ilî 109 ... 212 Sidqî Ill ... 212 Iqbali (Sultan Mustafa II.) 112 ... 212 Nâbî 113-116 ... 212 'Arif 117-120 ... 213 Nedîm 121 ... 213 Sabqatî (Sultan Mahmûd I.) 122 ... 214 Belîg 123-124 ... 214 Sami 125-126 ... 214 Nev-res 127 ... 215 Shâhin Giray (Khân of the Crimea) ... ... 128 ... 215 Gâlib 130-133 ... 216 Fitnet Khânim ... ... ... ... ... 134-136 ... 217 Ilhâmî (Sultan Selîm III.) 137-138 ... 217 Ottoman Poets Fâzil Beg ... Wasif Ramiz Pasha Tzzet Molla 'Adli (Sultan Mahnnid II Leylâ Khâninı Ref'et Beg Ziya Beg ... Notes CONTENTS. XV onth nued. 1' RANSL.M IONS Biographies Page 139-144 . Page 218 145150 219 151 220 152 220 .) 153 221 I54I56 222 157 I59-161 222 227 \ INTRODUCTION ÂVNÎ Sultan Muhammed II, ( "The Conqueror. ) iffimu a Jtortiuih Jcccntirtq . INTRODUCTION. I.— GENERAL CHARACTER OF OTTOMAN POETRY. A RABIAN and Persian literature have for a considerable period received the attention of Western scholars, and translations and editions of several of the most esteemed works in these two languages have from time to time appeared in Europe ; but the literature, and especially the poetical literature, of the Ottoman Turks, the most illustrious family of the third great race of Islam, has been, with a few exceptions, notably that of Von Hammer, almost entirely neglected by European Orientalists. The cause of this is hard to ascertain. It might have been thought that the facts of the Ottoman Turks being in Europe and having, for upwards of five centuries, been in close contact with various European peoples, would have had for a result a more intimate acquaintance on the part of the latter with the studies and pursuits of their Muslim neighbours, than with those of the remoter nations of Asia, lîut it may be that these very circumstances of proximity and intercourse, which might have been conceived as furthering a European interest in the inner life and modes of thought of that wondrous and gifted shepherd clan which has played so brilliant a part in the world's history, have XX IMKODUCTION. acted ill an exactly contrary manner. It may well be that affrighted Europe, when she saw the Crescent gleaming over Constantinople, and heard the legions of Islam thundering at the gates of Vienna, wished rather to shield herself from their dreaded scimitar than to inquire whence that race of nomad warriors, before whom she trembled, were inspired with the dauntless valour, and the matchless devotion, which bore them so bravely on. But the Ottomans have long ceased to be aggressive, and such influences must have died out many years ago : terror gave place to hatred, not unnatural at first, but wholly unjust now ; unless, indeed, we are to hold a people guilty of the crimes of their ancestors — if so, who can escape condemnation ? Antipathy of race and religious bigotry are virulent and hard to kill (unhappily, they exist to this day, scarcely less unjust and cruel than in bygone times), and it is difificult not to think that these are in some measure responsible for the gross ignorance that almost universally pre- vails, in England, at any rate, regarding Turkey and all things Turkish. To select one striking example : but recently did the writer of these pages read in a popular religious magazine that, '' in Mohammedan countries (meaning Turkey), Woman is treated as having no soul." This mediaeval delusion of Islam's denying a soul to Woman has been clearly and decisively refuted by Mr. Redhouse,* who quotes passage after passage of the Qur'an, showing how utterly false it is — how Islam in reality no more denies Woman a soul than does Christianity itself. Possibly enough, this calumny may have arisen in error; but to proclaim it to-day shows, on the part of the traducer, either almost criminal ignorance, for it is very wrong to condemn where one does not understand, or vile * Oil the History, System and Wirutks oj Turkish Foetiy, o,-v., pp. 7-I0. CHARACTER OF OTTOMAN POETRY. xxi dishonesty, for it is vilely dishonest knowingly to propagate a lie. Yei the writer of the article in question was a missionary in Turkey ! Either he had, as we hope and believe, not taken the trouble to learn anything of the truth about the faith of the people amongst whom he lived, never hesitating all the same to pass adverse judgment thereon ; or he stood greatly in need of some one to expound to him the Ninth Commandment.* It is not unfrequently said by the class of persons to which our missionary belongs, ?>., those who pass judgment on what they know nothing about — and it may tend to discourage the study of Turkish — that the Turks are a barbarous people, possessed of no literature. To such an assertion as this, no better answer can be given than that Von Hammer-Purgstall, in his great work. Die GcscJiichte dcr OsnianiscJien Dichtkunst, gives translated extracts from two thousand huo htuidred Ottoman Poets. Although perhaps poetry has been cultivated in Turkey with greater assiduity than any other branch of literature, yet the bare mention of the names and works of her most brilliant historians and romancers, and most gifted philosophic and scientific authors, would fill a goodly volume. There exist in Turkish many works famous throughout the East, on Astronomy, Astrology, Mathe- matics, Rhetoric, Ethics, Theology, Jurisprudence, Exegesis, Medicine, Chemistry, Geography, History, Chronology, Biography, and all the other sciences of the Muslims ; but writers of no class are more frequently to be met with in the pages of the Ottoman biographers than poets, that * For an exhaustive and correct account of Islam and its Founder, the reader is referred to Seyyid Ameer Ali's Critical Examination of the Life and Teachings of Mohammed (London: Williams and Norgale). This is by far the best English work on the Prophet and his Creed that I have read, and I would strongly recommend its careful perusal to all who desire to understand the teaching of the great Arabian Lawgiver. xxii ISTKODUCTIOS. class of writers whose very existence bears witness to the presence of national culture and refinement. Of the two thousand two hundred authors whose names are enshrined in Von Hammer's volumes, many indeed scarcely deserve the name of poets, and owe their place there merely to some little gazd, or, it may be, only to a stray bcyt^ or distich, preserved in the pages of some friendly biographer ; for the distinguished Orientalist of Vienna, being at great pains to give a complete picture of the history of Ottoman Poetry, has inserted in his work almost all that can be gleaned from the Turkish Tezkeras, or biographies. As is the case in the literary history of every people, but comparatively few of these Ottoman versifiers can be regarded as really great poets ; yet perhaps 'Ashiq Pasha is not verj- far behind his great prototype, the immortal Mevlânâ Jelâlu-'d-Din, the author of the Mesnevi ; the gaze/s of BAqI, in elegance of diction and depth of feeling, rival those of Hâfîz; and the romances of Lâ.mi'î yield not one whit in loveliness to the works of Jâmi or Nizami. Yet these four Persian authors stand in the forefront of the ranks of the poets of Iran, and in the whole history of the literature of her nations, earth can show few names more illustrious than theirs. It will thus be seen that whatever be the cause of the neglect in this country of the study of Ottoman Poetry, it is not due to the absence of poets or to the quality of their effusions. The difficulty of the language in which it is written, and the scarcity, till within recent years, of trustworthy grammars and dictionaries, have, no doubt, helped to discourage the study of Ottoman literature; while those scholars who have surmounted these preliminary obstacles have pro- bably been deterred by the absence of originality which characterises the poetry of the 'Osmânlis from presenting many specimens to the European k CHARACTER OF OTTOMA.V POETRY. xxiii public, preferring to go direct to Persia, the fountain-head, where springs the stream that fructifies the garden of Turkish verse. Now look we a little more closely at this Ottoman Poetry, its character, and the circumstances which tended to form the same. As the poetry of the Ottomans is altogether founded upon that of the Persians, just as the literature of the European nations is the offspring of the writings of Rome and Greece, it will be well in the first place to cast a glance towards Iran. The poetry, then, of the Persians, and, there- fore, that of their imitators, Turks, Muslim Indians, Afgâns, etc., is essen- tially an art. There is a limited (considerable enough, it is true, but yet limited) number of metres and variations of metres, each of which is divided into a definite number of feet, which, in their turn, are divided into a determined number of long and short (or, as the Orientals call tliem, heavy and light) syllables, following one another in a particular order, which may not be altered ; and in one or other of these metres, or variations of metres, the author is bound to write his poem. Some of these metres are appropriated to one style of composition, one form of poem, and certain others to another form. Again, there is a definite number of verse-forms, some of Arabian, some of Persian origin (such as the qasida, gazel, etc., which will be explained afterwards), in one of which the poet must write : he is no more permitted to link lines together in any way he chooses, than he may compose those lines of any number of syllables in any order he ])leascs ; he is bound to observe the rules of the art. It is almost a rule that the subjects of gazels (the form of verse in which a great portion of Persian and Ottoman Poetry is composed) be the beauty of a lady, the sufferings of her lover, the charms of s])ring, and the delights of wine ; the natural result of which is very frequently a certain monotonv and xxiv INTRODUCTION. sameness among the various gazeis of an author, indeed, of many authors. It requires a poet of exceptional originality to compose three or four hundred of these little odes, usually of from five to twelve couplets each, on the same- subjects, without repetition of expression or sentiment, and without borrowing from the works of previous writers. The great number and variety of curious conceits that enter into the I'elks lettres of the East, and are so highly prized by scholarly Orientals, show very clearly the artificial character of Persian, and consequently of Ottoman, poetry. But apart from the necessity of com- posing in the recognised forms, and the advisableness — almost amounting to a necessity — of writing, in gazeis, on certain set subjects, the poet is allowed the freest possible scope for the display of his individual talent, and of the bent of his genius. Such is the general external character of the poetry of the Persians, a character which, in all its details, has been adopted by the Ottomans. The poetry of Muhammedan Persia, though based upon the Arabian system, comprises much, in sentiment, expression, form, and subject, that is not Arabian, but pure, native Persian. It is not so with that of Turkey, where nothing is native, nothing Tatar, saving the language in which it is wTitten. On every page of a Persian author we see allusions to the old religion and the ancient heroes of Iran ; but vainly do we look, from end to end, through the works of an Ottoman poet for any reference, however slight, to the religion and traditions of those Central Asian deserts whence his nation came. Religion and traditions, and not unromantic either, we know they had ; but whilst we are continually encountering the Persians, Rustem and Jemshid Key-Khusrev and Feridun, nowhere in the writings of their descendants can we catch a glimpse of Uguz or of Guk Khan, "Prince of the Sky." These old semi-legendary kings and champions of ancient Persia stand in precisely the CHARACTER OF OTTOMAN POETRY. xxv .■,ame relation to Ottoman literature as do the gods and heroes of classic Greece and Rome to that of Western Europe ; the Ottomans, finding them frequently referred to by their Persian models, have introduced them no less frequently, and in exactly the same relations, into their own writings ; just as the Prankish nations have preserved in their poetry many an old pagan fancy which they found in the authors of Greece and Rome, such as the Graces and the Fates, Diana's bow, and Phoebus' rays. But there is another series of ancient stories, another group of stately figures, scarcely less frequently to be met with than those, common, this time, to both Christian and Muslim lands ; these are the traditions and heroes of the Jews. Poems describing or bearing allusion to the Creation of the Universe, the Fall of Man, and the Deluge, are as common among the followers of the Qur'an as among those of the Gospel. The virtue and loveliness of Joseph, the sweet singing of David, and the glories of Solomon, who like Nûshirvân, the Persian, is the model of an Eastern sovereign, are darling themes with the poets of Islam. These Prophets — along with many others whose histories are detailed in the Qur'an, and the Prophet Muhammed himself and the most distinguished of his. contemporaries and immediate successors, especially his son-in-law 'Ali and his uncle Hemza ; together with a few, a very few, of the pre-Islâmitic champions of Arabia, of whom Hatim Tâ'i is the most frequently mentioned — these form the Semitic contribution to what may be called the dramatis persona of Ottoman Poetry. In the Persians we have already seen the Aryan contingent, in which also appear a few of the Grecian philosophers, notably Plato and Aristotle. From the Shâh-Nâma of Firdevsi, in which are recounted in noble strains the adventures and exploits of the kings and heroes of four mighty dynasties, the Pishdadi, the Keycâni, the Ashekâni, and the Sâsâni (or the Achaemenian, d XX vi INTRODUCTION. the Median, the Parthian, and the Sassanian) have subsequent authors, well nigh numberless — Persian, Turkish, and Indian — drawn the materials for many beautiful poems. Often arc sung the splendour and subsequent fall of Jemshid ; famed arc the glories of Khusrev Perviz and his love for tL enchanting Shirin, whose very name means "sweet"; but of all the kin- and heroes whose feats Firdevsi records in his famous epic, none is hcM so high, none has furnished the subject for so many romances, as the kit and hero, the conqueror of the world, Iskender-i Rûmi, Alexander the "Roman." So enamoured are the Persians of Alexander the Great, though he conquered their country and overthrew their splendid Keyâni dynasty, that they claim him as a member of their own race, declaring him to be the offspring of a Persian prince and a Grecian, or rather Roman, princess. So much for the characters, historical or legendary, which figure in the Poetry of the Ottomans : Semitic and Aryan we see them to be ; of Turanian we can find no sign. The absence of all trace of Tatar mythology may perhaps be thus accounted for. A mere tribe of rude and unlettered nomads was the little Turkish clan which, in the thirteenth century of our era, flying from the murderous hordes of Jengiz Khân, left their home in the meadows of the lower Oxus and followed Süleyman Shah into Asia Minor, and there under 'Osman, grandson of that Prince, formed the nucleus of that mighty Empire which still holds sway, direct or indirect, over some of the fairest portions of the three continents of the. Old World. On their arrival in Asia Minor they found established there another Turkish race, the SeljQqi, whose empire, then near its fall, had lasted long enough and been sufficiently prosperous to extend to literature that encouragement which Muslim states, possessed of the necessary stability and tranquillity, have never failed to accord. The literary education of these SeljQqis had been entirely conducted by Persians, and CHAKACTEK OF OTTOMAN POETRY. xxvii judging from the extreme scarcity of Turkish works written by Seljuqi authors, it would seem that, jike the Jagatay * Turks, who in after years ruled so magnificently at Delhi, they adopted in their literature, not only the tone and style, but even the very language, of their Irani instructors. Hardly were 'Osman and his followers settled in their new home before the Seljuqi Empire went to pieces. Overthrown by fierce Mogul conquerors, strong enough to destroy but too weak to restore, the Empire split up into a number of provinces, each under a Turkish chieftain, by whose name the province was known so long as it enjoyed a separate existence. These provinces were gradually merged in the growing empire of Orkhan and his successors, when the inhabitants — Turks themselves, like the Ottomans — readily amalgamated with the latter, so that by far the greater portion of the people now and for long called Ottoman Turks are in reality renovated Seljuqis. To these Seljuqis it is that the Ottomans owe their literary education : this fact at once explains the extremely Persian tone that runs through their whole literature ; without any records of their own, they seem to have lost any ■lingering recollection of the traditions of their ancestors when brought face to face with the dazzling genius of Persia. Still, unlike many Turks brought under the Persian spell, the Ottomans did not adopt the Irani tongue as the language of their court and literature ; on the contrary, they retained as such their native Tatar dialect, but embellished with every beauty that the Persian speech could lend. A peculiarity of Persian and Ottoman Poetry is, that it almost always possesses, beneath its literal meaning, a subtle, esoteric, spiritual signification. iMany poems, of which the Mesnevi of Jelâlu-'d-Din and the Diwan of 'Ashiq • Chagatây is the true Central Asian form of this word ; but the Ottomans wrile and pronounce it Jagatay, xxviii JNTKODUCTION. I'asha arc examples, arc confessedly religious, moral, or mystic works; but a much larger number are allegorical. To this latter class belong almost all the long romantic mesnevls of the Persian and Ottoman poets ; in the stories of the loves of Leyli and Mejnün, Yûsuf and Zuleykhâ, Khusrev and Shirin, Selâmân and Ebsâl, and a hundred of like kind, we can see pictured, if we look beneath the surface, the longing of the soul of man for God, or the yearning of the human heart after heavenly light and wisdom. There is not a character introduced into those romances but represents some passion, not an incident but has some spiritual meaning. In the history of iskender, or Alexander, we watch the noble human soul in its struggles against the powers of this world, and, when aided by God and guided by the heavenly wisdom of righteous teachers, its ultimate victory over every earthly passion, and its attainment of that point of divine serenity whence it can look calmly down on all sublunary things. Of a similar character are the odes called ^^z^ff/y; these little poems, though outwardly mere voluptuous or bacchanalian songs, are in reality the outpour- ings of hearts overwhelmed, or as they themselves express it, drunken, with their love of God : He is that Fair One whom they so eagerly entreat to come to them, to throw off the veil that conceals His perfect beauty from the sight of their comprehension. Every word in these effusions has its spiritual or mystic signification, well known to the initiated : thus, the mistress is God ; the loi'er^ man ; the tresses, the mystery of the Godhead, or Its impenetrable attributes ; the waist, that state when nought remains to veil the lover from the Divine glories ; the ruby lip, the unheard but understood words of God ; the embrace^ the discovery of the mysteries of the Godhead ; absence or separation is the non-recognition of the Unity of God ; union, His Unity, or the seeing of Him face to face; wine means the Divine Love; the aip-bcarer. the spiritual CHARACTER OF OTTOMAN POETRY. xxix instructor, the giver of the goblet of celestial aspiration and love; the libertine, the saint who thinks no more of human conventionalities ; the tavern, a jjlace where one mortifies sensuality, and relinquishes his " name and fame ; " the zephyr, the breathing of the Spirit \ the taper, the Divine light kindling the torch, the heart of the lover, man. And so on, through every detail is the allegory maintained. Such is the true and original purport of the gazel, and the spirit in which most of the great poets of Persia and Turkey intended their compositions to be understood ; but many writers (especially in Persia, where morals are lax) did no doubt mean literally all they said. Among the Ottoman gazel- writers there is a great number of men who cannot be regarded either as mystics or voluptuaries. All the sultans, princes, and vezirs, as well as the immense crowd of officials of all ranks, who wrote these odes, were men who had not the leisure, even if they had the wish, to be mystic devotees ; neither would they have dared, no matter what they may have thought, to give expression in strict, orthodox Stamboul to such sentiments as are set forth in their songs, intending them to be literally understood. Moreover, we know from history that many of the royal poets could not possibly have intended a literal interpretation of their verses; for they were sincere and zealous Muslims, and visited with condign punishment the use of the forbidden wine. How then, it may be asked, did they write these poems, if they meant them neither literally nor figuratively ? The answer seems to be : Fashion. Looking over the works of their Persian models, they would see that the great majority of the smaller poems (men of action would rarely have time to write long mesnevls) were in this strain, that the ideas and expressions were pretty, and so they would copy them without intending their words to be taken either in a literal or a metaphorical sense. But while this may be the case with regard to some XXX IS'TRODUCTION. writers, there are very many Ottoman poets the earnestness of whose words proclaims the intensity and depth of the feeling that gave them birth, whose verses are free from that almost insensate enthusiasm which stamps too many gauls with insincerity. Some of these, too, held high offices of state, such was 'ÎZZET MoLLA, one of Sultan Mahmûd the Second's vice-chancellors, in many of whose gaze/s are traces of a profound philosophy. Every page also of the poet L.\Mi'I bears witness that he at least possessed an ardent and sincere love of natiire. A few words regarding the doctrine of the Sû/ıs or Mystics, which is the creed of most of the Dervish Orders, and to which the gaz€/s when written in the proper spirit, and the mesne: ts too, give expression, will not here be out of place. As no one has described this Religion of Mysticism more accurately than Sir William Jones, I cannot do better than reproduce the following passage, from his Essay on the Philosophy of the Asiatics : " The Sufis concur in believing that the souls of men differ infinitely in degree, but not at all in kin/f, from the Divine Spirit, of which they are particles^ and in which they will ultimately be re-absorbed ; that the spirit of God pervades the universe, always immediately present to His work, and, consequently, always in substance; that He alone is perfect benevolence, perfect truth, perfect beauty \ that the love of Him alone is real and genuine love, while that of all other objects is absurd and illusor>' ; that the beauties of nature are faint resemblances, like images in a mirror, of the Divine charms ; that, from eternity without beginning to eternity without end, the Supreme Benevolence is occupied in bestowing happiness, or the means of attaining it ; that men can only attain it by performing their part of the primal covenant between them and the Creator ; that nothing has a pure, absolute existence but mind or spirit ; that material substances, as the ignorant call them, are no CHARACTER OF OTTOMAN POETRY. xxxi more than gay pictures, presented continually to our minds by the spiritual artist ; that we must be aware of attachment to such phantoms, and attach ourselves, exclusively, to God, who truly exists in us, as we exist solely in Him ; that we retain, even in this forlorn state of separation from our beloved, the idea of heavenly beauty, and the remevibrance of our primeval vo'ivs ; that sweet music, gentle breezes, fragrant flowers perpetually renew the primar)- idea, refresh our fading memon-, and melt us N^ith tender affections ; that we must cherish these afi'ections, and, by abstracting our souls from vanity, that is, from all but God, approximate to His essence, in our final union with which will consist our supreme beatitude." To what extent the spirit of this philosophy per\-ades the Poetry of the Ottomans, the following pages will amply show. But there is much Ottoman Poetry, altogether unaffected by the Ar}-an Mysticism of Persia, tinged with a stately melancholy and breathing a sincere and simple religion which no one can possibly misunderstand. That is the spirit of Semitic Islam, a spirit sad and grave, but full of divine calm and inward joy and ineffable hope, a spirit that can incite those in whom it dwells to deeds of the highest daring and sustain them unshaken in the bitterest anguish. Here, then, we see the influences of the genius of the two great races, Semitic and Aryan, uniting to form the soul of Ottoman Poetr)- : and here again we fail to discern any trace of a third and Turanian element. M. Servan de Sugny says, indeed, in his work, called La Muse Ottomans : " The Turks have something distinct from the other two nations (Arabs and Persians); contemplative by nature, they love to fathom the mysteries of existence, to plunge in thought into the darkness of the other world, to ask the purpose and the end of all things here. Thus they are moralists par excellence : they have ever present in their mind the hour of death and the xxxii INTROnUCTFON. eternal destiny which awaits each man beyond the tomb. In even the most trivial works of their writers, there is almost always some religious or philosophic thought attached to the principal subject, to form its crown, or, if need be, its corrective. In a word, the Turks regard themselves as only camped in life, just as it has been said that their nation is only camped in Europe. One can imagine with what a solemnity such a manner of viewing things must impress their customs, and, in consequence, the creations of their genius." All that the French writer says here about the Ottomans and their mode of thought is absolutely true ; but the spirit which brought about that mode of thought is that of Islam, working on the Turkish mind, no doubt, but still in itself Qur'anic, and therefore Semitic — not Turkish and Turanian. The proof of this is, that the same spirit can be seen in thousands of Arabic poems written after the mission of Muhammed and before the rise of Turkish literature. Thus, as we have several times seen, one of the most noticeable charac- teristics of Ottoman Poetry is its lack of originality ; saving that it differs in what may be called its local colouring, for it is the growth of another clime : it reflects as in a mirror every trait and feature of the poetic art of Persia. Persian it is in form, Persian in tone, and, generally, Persian in subject ; even the Arabian ray, which we have noticed, comes to it through a Persian medium. The cause of this we have attempted to trace in the early history of the Empire of the Ottomans and in the circumstances of their literary education. Whilst such is indeed the case with regard to the classic poetry of the Ottomans (which alone we are considering here), it is more than probable that in the popular songs Shargls, or ballads, and such like, a distinct and national spirit will be found. In his Popular Poetry of Persia, M. Chodzko CHARACTER OF OTTOMAX POETRY. xxxiii gives translations of some songs of the Persian Turks, made from the Âzerbâyjâni patois, which forms the connecting Unk between the Eastern and Western — Jagatây and Ottoman — dialects of the great Turkish language, which extends, like an immense unbroken chain, from the Wall of China to the shores of the Adriatic ; but these can hardly be expected to bear much resemblance to the everj^-day songs of Brüsa and Stamboul. So far as I know, no collection of Ottoman popular songs has been published in Europe, either in original or translation. Although the want of originality undoubtedly renders Ottoman Poetry less interesting than it would be were the case otherwise, that cannot be considered a sufficient reason for its neglect ; if the poetry of Persia is beautiful and deserving of careful study (and few who are acquainted with it will deny that it is both), that of Turkey must be the same, seeing how close is the relation- ship between them. Roman science and literature stand in very much the same relation to Grecian as Ottoman do to Persian. Professor Max Müller even says, in his Science of La/ignage* " the Romans, in all scientific matters, were merely the parrots of the Greeks ; " yet no one is deterred on th.it account from the study of the Latin poets, and why should a similar cir- cumstance interfere with that of the Ottoman ? But it must not be thought that, because the Turkish race has shown a singular backwardness in the invention of poetic fancies and forms, it in any way lacks tliose (qualities of character and individuality whereby nations raise themselves from obscurity to fame. Were it not a race endowed with great and special gifts, so many of its families would never have distin- guished themselves in the wo'rld's history. The kingdoms of the Seljuqi Turks were once the most powerful in Western Asia ; for two centuries the * Ed. 1S73, Vol. I., p. 139. c xxxiv INTRODUCTION. Qaramani Turks were the most formidable rivals of the 'Osmânlis ; and those splendid Emperors, known as the " Great Moguls," who, down to the middle of the present century, ruled in India, were in reality Jagatays — Turks, pure as the Ottomans themselves. Of these latter it is needless to speak ; they were once the mightiest people on the earth ; and, even now, after centuries of decline, it has taxed to its uttermost the whole military force of the greatest empire in Europe, backed up by rebel hordes from every province between the Euxine and the Adriatic, to worst their armies in the field. II.— OTTOMAN VERSE-FORMS AND METRES. \T /"E shall now proceed to take a brief survey of the construction of Ottoman Poetry — of the various verse-forms and metres in which it is composed. For their rhyming system, as for all else pertaining to the construction of their poetry, the Ottomans are indebted to the Persians, who are them- selves beholden for the elements of their poetic art to the Arabs, to whose primitive system, however, they have added many new features of their own invention. Some, at least, of these features are, it is true, to be found in several later Arabic poetical works, but these must be regarded as copied from Persian or Turkish models. The rhyming system of the Ottomans (and Persians) divides itself naturally into two great branches : one. the primitive Arabian form, the other, an invention of the Persians. The root of the first of these is the çasîda, the form in which the famous OTTOMAN VERSE-fOKMS AND METRES. xxxv Mu'allaqat and other old Arabic poems are written. It were well to state here that the invariable base, upon which Musulmân poetry is built, is the Beyt, usually translated " distich " or " couplet," which consists of two hemistichs {misrcV) of equal length. The feature of the first, or Arabian, branch is, that throughout the entire poem, no matter how long it be — i.e., of how many bcyts it consist — the second hemistichs of all the beyts must rhyme together, thus carrying one and the same rhyme through the whole poem, while the first hemistichs do not rhyme at all, Usually, though not always, the first hemistich of the first beyt — i.e., the first line of the poem — rhymes with its own second hemistich, and, consequently, with that of every suc- ceeding beyt. Examples of this will be seen in every gazel in this collection. In the second, or Persian, branch, the two hemistichs of each beyt rhyme with one another, altogether independently of the rhymes of other btyts, whether preceding or following ; this is called niesfievl rhyme. It is to be found in a vast number of English poems — those of Dryden and Sir Walter Scott, for example. This Persian style is chiefly used for very long poems, each of which is a complete book in itself; whilst the Arabian system is prin- cipally employed in shorter productions. The two great branches of the rhyming system having been explained, the principal verse-forms require to be noticed. The Qasuia, Gaze/, and Qit'a are the most important of these in the Arabian style. The QasIda : This is the old Arab form. The two hemistichs of the opening beyt rhyme with one another. The subject of poems written in this form is generally the praise of great personages, either living or deceased : occasional satire, and sometimes moral or religious reflections. As a rule, towards the end of the poem the name of the person praised is introduced. The Qashia is usually a jioem of considerable length, and ought to be XXX vi INTRODUCTION. Iinislicd and clcgaiU in [juint of style. An example ot' this form will be found among the selections from BAoi's poems. The Ci.\ZFX is in form precisely the same as the qasida ; but much shorter : consisting of not less than five and not more than eighteen beyts, in the last, or second last, of which the poet almost always introduces his own takhalliis, or [loetic nom de plume. The matters of which it usually treats are, the beauty of a mistress, and the woes of her absent, and generally despairing, lover ; or the delights of wine ; or the charms of spring and flowers, and the sweet notes of the nightingale ; or it may be that a single gazel will touch on each and all of these varied subjects, devoting a beyt or two to each. Often, too, in the course of the poem, one comes across an allusion to the brevity of human life and the vanity of the things of earth ; concerning the true meaning of these seemingly bacchanalian songs we have already spoken. A few gazels treat consecutively throughout of a given subject, as, for example, that of BAoI on Autumn and that of BelIg on a Dancing-Girl ; but these are rare exceptions. In regard to style, the gazel must be highly finished ; all imi)erfect rhymes, obsolete words, and vulgar expressions ought to be avoided. Each beyt must in itself contain a complete thought. There need be, and there usually is, no connection between the various beyts^ which have been well compared to i:»earls upon a thread. " The thread will make them one necklace; but the value of the necklace lies in each pearl, not in the thread." The gazel is by far the favourite verse-form of the Ottoman and Persian poets. A point which calls for remark here is that some Ottoman gazels are addressed to boys, not to girls, the explanation of which is this : the old Arabian poets speak of women, frequently imaginary ; but the Persians, considering this very immodest, usually assume a boy, also imaginary, to be the beloved object in their poems ; and the Ottomans, ♦ OTTOMAN VERSE-rOKMS AND METRES. xxxvii according to their invariable custom, have simply copied the îrânis. This practice holds too in modern Arabic poetry. The Qit'a differs in form from the qasida and gazel only in that the first hemistich of the first beyt does not rhyme with the second of the same and succeeding couplets. A Qit'a may contain as few as two bryts. If the first beyt of a qasida ox gazel be taken away, the remainder is a Qita; or if a poet compose a qasida or gazel without rhyming the first line, the result is a Qif'a. The word Qit'a means " fragment." As already mentioned, the Qasida, Gazel, and Qit'a are the principal verse- forms in which the Arabian system of rhyme prevails ; the Persian style holds in one only, which now remains to be noticed. The MesxevI : In the Persian rhyme-system, as has been said, each hemistich rhymes with its fellow ; but the same rhyme is not carried throughout the entire poem, as in qasldas, gazels, and qit'as. The name mesnevi, is given alike to this style of rhyme and to a poem composed in it. The subject of a mesneri is usually a romance or an epic. The stories of the loves of Leyli and Mejnün, AVamiq and 'Azrâ, Khusrev and Shirin, and Yûsuf and Zuleykhâ, and the adventures of iskender (Alexander tlie Great), and of the ancient princes of the East, are favourite themes with the writers of these poems. They not unfrequently treat of mystic or religious subjects; and the most famous work of this kind in any Muslim language is the great Persian mystic poem of Mevlânâ Jelâlu-'d-Dîn er-Rümi, which is styled simply the Mesnevi, being the mesnevi of all mesnevJs. l"he first Jjook of this master-work of Persian poetry — this text-book of the mystics of the East — has been recently translated into English verse by Mr. Redhouse. Historical poems are usually written in this form ; they bear most frequently the name, ?\âma, i.e. " Book," as the Shah-Ndma, iskender- Xama, Tımûr- xxxviii INTRODVCTJOW ı\ıâma, "The Louk. ul Kings,' of "Alexander,' of "Timur.' Litilc descrip- tive poems included in D'lwans (though not always in mesnevi rhyme) also often bear this name; such are the Sâgî-Nâma, Firâg-Nâma, Pend- Nâma, "The Book of the Cup-bearer," of "Separation," of "Counsel." Finally, to this form belongs that peculiar class of descriptive poems which bears the special title Shehr-engîz, " City-disturbing." These arc descriptions either of places or of people ; they detail the beauties of the site and buildings of a city, or the charms of the youths and maidens who dwell there, and whose loveliness sets the whole town in an uproar. It will thus be seen that the Persian, or fuesnevl, rhyme is chiefly used in descriptive poetry. These are the most important verse-forms to be found in the works of Otto- man poets ; but there are many minor varieties, some of which, as they frequently occur, require to be mentioned here. Amongst the most common of these is the class called Musemmat, which comprises poems consisting of a succession of four, five, or six-line strophes, and named accordingly, Murebba\ Mukhammes, and Müseddes, or "tetrastich," " pentastich," and "hexastich." Each of the strophes has a different rhyme, and the lines in each rhyme together. Often, however, the last line (sometimes the last two lines) of each strophe is the same throughout, thus forming a sort of refrain. Frequently again the last lines are different, but rhyme with each other and the first strophe. Several examples of these forms, which are really only varieties of the TerJV-£end (which will be described further on), are included in the present collection. The subjects of the musemmats are usually the same as those of gazels. Another very important form is the Rubâ'î, or "quatrain." This, as its name shows, is a short composition of four lines. The first, second. OTTOMA.\' ]-ERSE-l-OKMS AX/} MF/fRI-.S. xxxix and fourth lines must rhyme with one another, the third may or may not, at the option of the poet. This form, which is in high favour with Oriental poets, may treat of any subject. The last line, or sometimes the last two lines, of a good Rubd'l must be either witty or epigrammatical, the preceding lines serve merely to introduce the bon mot of the last. Here is a celebrated Rubd'-j, by the Ottoman poet 'Izârî : * Struggling here fiercely my love for the fair ; There, the flame, dread of rivals, cruel glare ; Which to combat, in which I must burn, know not I : Yonder torment cf fire, Lord, us spare! The last line here is a citation from the Qur'an, ch. ii., v. 197, which 'Igârî quotes in the original Arabic. Another great favourite with Ottoman writers is the TArîkh, or "Chronogram;" that is, a piece of verse which expresses at once an occurrence and the date of the same. All the letters of the Turkish alphabet have a numerical value, just as with us C represents 100, V, 5, and so on. If the numerical values of the letters occurring in a verse, a sentence, or even a word, on being added together, give the date of the event to which the words allude, that verse, sentence, or word is called a Tarlkh. In poetical Tarlkhs it is usually only the last line that contains the date, sometimes only certain of the letters in that line. The translation of a Târik/ı on the death of a princess will be found among the selections from Leylâ Khânim's D'ıu'ân. A NazIra is a poem written in imitation of, or in answer to, one writer by another. (See Note 54.) * Quoted by Qinali-Zada and Mr. Kedhouse. xi . /.\/RonccTi().\: A MuSTEzAn is Ti s^azcl with an addition of some words to each line. This addition must have the same rhyme and the same metre as the last half of the line to which it is attached. These short lines, or additions, may be either road or omitted without spoiling the sense of the poem ; indeed there are compositions which occur in some MSS. as simple ^azels that in others aj)pcar as Mustezads. The Terkîb-Bend is a poem consisting of a series of strophes in the form of gazels, eacli of the same metre, but with different rhymes, and connected with one another by beyts of the same metre as themselves, but differing from them in rhyme. Sometimes the bend, that is the " bond," the connecting beyt, s the same throughout ; sometimes it varies between each strophe. The poet does not introduce his takhallus into each of the gazel-\\)^Q. strophes, but only once towards the end of the poem. BaqI's Elegy on Sultan Süleyman affords an example of the Terkib-Bend. The Terjî'-Bend consists likewise of several strophes, all the hemistichs of each of which, however, rhyme together, thus differing from the strophes of the Terklb-Be/id, which rhyme in the gazel style ; but like those of the Terklb, each strophe of the TerjY takes a new rhyme. As in the Terklb, again, the strophes here are connected by a beyt (the Bend), which may or may not be variable, and which may or may not rhyme with the first stanza. An example of the TerjY-Bend v^-\\\ be found in Wasif's Eulogy on Huseyn Pasha. The TakhmIs is often met with in the later writers. Here the poet takes :x. gazel of another author, and proceeds to build a viukhanunes upon it in the following manner. He takes the first, or non-rhyming, lines of the couplets which make up the gazel, and prefixes to each of them three lines of his own composition having the same metre and rhyme as those to which they are joined. The second, or rhyming, lines of the gazel are then added OTTOMAS' VERSE-FORMS AND METRES. xli in regular order to these four-line strophes, and thus form the fifth, or odd, lines of the mukhammes. An example, which will make this clear, will be found in this volume among the specimens of Leylâ Khânim's poetry, where that lady has made a Takhmis upon one of BaqI's ^a^n their arms. Many causes had tended to bring about this result, one of the chief of which was, that all the first ten Sultans were individually and innately great men — men who would have distinguished themselves no matter wliat their position or circumstances might have been. They were great administrators no less than great warriors; had they not been so — had they been mere barbarian Tatar conquerors like Jengiz or Timur — their empire would, like the empires of these two soldiers, at once have fallen to pieces. The Poetry of the Ottomans, like their Empire, had now reached its zenith, BAqi, Lami'I, Fuzûlî, Yahya Beg, Gazali, and Fazlî are all great poets ; the first two, the very greatest. Süleyman himself wrote gazds under the name of MuhibbI. Of his sons, his successor, Selim II., and the Princes Mustafa, Bâyezîd, Muhammed, and JihAn-gIr composed verses, and were besides protectors of poets. Selim II., very different from his gallant ])redecessors, was a drunken profligate, with scarce a spark of the Ottoman in his breast ; however, notwithstanding his faults, this Sultan wrote some very pretty gazels, under the takhallus of SelImî. On the accession of Murad III. in 1574, the Empire began to decline, and, under a succession of effeminate sovereigns, continued on the downward path, till arrested, half a century later, by the iron arm of Murad IV. Although this period was lit up with some bright flashes, such as the Battle of Kerestes (in some respects one of the most remarkable victories ever gained by the Ottomans over their Christian foes), it was by far the darkest through which the Empire had yet passed. Along with political glory sank Poetry ; not that writers of verse were not numerous, but few of them deserved THE RISE AXn PROGRESS OF OTTOMAN FOETRY. liii the name of poets. 'Atâ'î, the Mufti Yahya, and (a little later) the satirist Nef'i are the only really great poets of this time. The five feeble Sultans MuRAD III., MuHAMMED III., Ahmed I., MusTAFA I., and 'Osman II., who occupied the throne between Selim II. and Murâd IV., all composed poems, some of which are not lacking in grace and tenderness. Very different from these was Sultan Murad IV., brother of 'Osman II. ; in his breast burned the strong fierce spirit of the First Selim : to such a state had corruption and anarchy reduced the Empire that probably nothing short of tyrant vigour could preserve it from dissolution ; and of this Murad had ample store. He was successful ; not only did he save the state from death, he inspired it with new life ; and in the reign of his nephew Muhammed H'., for the second time, broke the wave of Turkish military might against the walls of Vienna. The stream of reviving vigour coursed through the whole Irame and spirit of the Empire, and with national greatness rose once more literary excellence. The illustrious family of the Kuprulus, whose wise administration did so much to strengthen the tottering fabric of the state, did not neglect, among more pressing duties, to extend their j^rotection to men of letters. We may pause here to notice that from Murad II. to Murad IV., inclusive, we have an unbroken line of Poet-Sultans : verses by each of the twelve monarchs whose reigns fall within that period are preserved to this day. When regard is had to this and to the further fact that gazc/s have been (oniposcd by several other Sultans (notably, Selim III. and Mahmûd II.), as well as by many Princes who never ascended the throne, it must be conceded that the claim which, a jxage or two back, was advanced for the House of 'Osman is not unworthy of consideration. But although the Ottoman Sultans may ])crhai)S have cultivated Poetry with greater assiduity liv iNTRonrcrmy. and success than any other race of Kings, they arc very far from being the only Oriental sovereigns who have practised this graceful art ; indeed the composition of verses seems to have been always a favourite pursuit of Muslim monarchs : and many poems, some of high merit, written by Arabian and Spanisli Khalifas, Tatar Sultans, Persian Shahs, Afgan Emirs, Crimean Khans, and Indian Emperors, remain to attest the learning and refinement that adorned those Asian sovereigns. The fresh strength with which the energetic but fierce genius of Murâd IV, had inspired the Empire lasted through the reigns of his brother the voluptuary Ibrahim and his nephew, the great huntsman, Muhammed IV., till the terrible disaster before Vienna thrust the Ottoman Power once more on to the steep incline of ruin. In spite of the noble efforts of the Kuprulus, which, though they did much to break the fall, could not avert it, the state sank rapidly, till, in the days of Selim III., it reached the very verge of extinction. The history of Poetry shows during this period of decline one great name, Nâbî, a poet whose works are unsurpassed by those of any subsequent author. 'ÂRIF, SâmI, the two Vehbis, and, later, Gâlib are good poets ; for the rest, though numerous, they have little merit. Selim III. saw the woeful plight of his country; he perceived that sweeping changes were imperatively called for in every departmant of the State, especially in the army and navy, to enable the Ottoman Empire to hold out against her aggressive foes. The introduction of these reforms, which marks the beginning of a new and brighter era of Turkish history, cost this brave but unfortunate monarch his life. The Empire has never been so feeble as it was during this period of transition, when its ancient legions had ceased to exist, and its modern army was yet unformed. Sultan Selim III. wrote many poems which show how deeply he felt the sadness of his lot. THE RISE AX I) I'ROGRESS OF OTTO MAX POETRY. Iv Mahmüd II. (another i)oet) successfull}' cominucd his cousin's work : and his successors have done the same. Though the Empire has sustained many shocks during the reigns of these last Sultans, they have been almost always caused by foreign violence or treachery, and are not the results (as used to be the case) of internal weakness and anarchy. Even when such blows have taken the form of insurrections, they are still almost invariably to be traced, as in the instance of last revolts in Bulgaria and Servia, to the intrigues of foreign emissaries. The old race of rebellious Pashas, who, setting the Sultan's authority at defiance, and ofttimes making successful war upon his troops, used to carve out of his provinces ei)hemeral kingdoms for themselves, has long since passed away. Even in extent of territory, the Empire may be said not to have decreased, but increased ; for, though many of its old European provinces have fallen away from the sway of Constantinople, Sultan *Abdu-'l-Hamid 11. holds rule over vast territories in Africa, of which "even Süleyman in all his glory " was ignorant of the very names. Of the many illustrious poets who have flourished in the present century, none holds a higher i)osition than Tzzet Molla, the author of the Mihneti Kes/lâf} ; and the talented Zıv Pasha, who died but a few years ago, may also justly lay claim to a distinguished position among the poets of his nation. OTTOMAN POEMS. iEILDRUli Sultan Selim I. cTrxnn a J^^/rk^tA'A Jf/tnflo't'n. OTTOMAN POEMS. 'ASHIQ PASHA. 733 [1332]' From the 'ashiq Pasha DIwani.^ Kulli 'âlem bir ishâret dir /ıe??ıân. A LL the Universe, one mighty sign, is shown; God hath myriads of creative acts unknown : None hath seen them, of the races jinn'' and men, None hath news brought from that reahn far off from ken. Never shall thy mind or reason reach that strand, Nor can tongue the King's name utter of that land. Since 'tis His each nothingness with life to vest, Trouble is there ne'er at all to His behest. Eighteen thousand worlds, from end to end,* Do not with Him one atom's worth transcend. A H M E D î. 815 [1412] I From the Iskende r-N â m a.» Smueykgil ey bulbul-i ^anqa-sifal ! T T P and sing ! O ' anqâ-natured nightingale ! ® ^^^ High in every business doth thy worth prevail : Sing ! for good the words are that from thee proceed ; Whatsoever thou dost say is prized indeed. Then, since words to utter thee so well doth suit, Pity were it surely if thy tongue were mute. Blow a blast in utt'rance that the Trusted One,'' When he hears, ten thousand times may cry : " Well done ! " Up and sing ! O bird most holy ! up and sing ! Unto us a story fair and beauteous bring. Let not opportunity slip by, silent there ; Unto us the beauty of each word declare. Seldom opportunities like this with thee lie ; Sing then, for th' occasion now is thine, so hie ! Lose not opportunities that thy hand doth find, For some day full suddenly Death thy tongue shall bind. Of how many singers, eloquent of words. Bound have Death and Doom the tongues fast in their cords ! AHMED/. Lose not, then, th' occasion, but to joy look now, For one day thy station 'neath earth seek must thou. Whilst the tongue yet floweth, now thy words collect ; Them as Meaning's taper 'midst the feast erect. That thy words, remaining long time after thee, To the listeners hearing shall thy record be. Thy mementoes lustrous biding here behind, Through them they'll recall thee, O my soul, to mind. Those who've left mementoes ne'er have died in truth ; Those who've left no traces ne'er have lived in sooth. Surely wuth this object didst thou come to earth. That to mind should ever be recalled thy worth. " May I die not ! " say'st thou, one of noble race ? Strive, then, that thou leavest here a name of grace. AIIMEDl. II From t he S a m r." Pes dedi bir gun Vezira Tâj-ver. /'^ANCE unto his Vezir quoth the crowned King: ^-^ " Thou, who in my world-realm knowest every thing ! With my sword I've conquered many and many a shore ; Still I sigh right sorely : ' Ah ! to conquer more ! ' Great desire is with me realms to overthrow ; Through this cause I comfort ne'er a moment know. Is there yet a country whither we may wend, Where as yet our mighty sway doth not extend, That we may it conquer, conquer it outright? Ours shall be the whole earth — ours it shall be quite." Then, when heard the Vezir what the King did say, Quoth he : " Realm-o'erthrowing Monarch, live for aye ! May the Mighty Ruler set thy crown on high, That thy throne may ever all assaults defy ! May thy life's rose-garden never fade away ! May thy glory's orchard never see decay ! Thou'st the Peopled Quarter ta'en from end to end ; ' All of its inhabitants slaves before thee bend. There's on earth no city, neither any land. That is not, O Monarch, under thy command. In the Peopled Quarter Seven Climes are known, And o'er all of these thy sway extends alone ! " s H E Y K H I. 830 [1426 ta.] I From K h u s r e v and S h î r I n. '" Meger qondugu yer Perviz Shâhin. 'T'^HE spot at which did King Khusrev Perviz light -^ Was e'en the ruined dwelling of that moon bright." Whilst wand'ring on, he comes upon that parterre, As on he strolls, it opes before his eyes fair. Among the trees a night-hued courser stands bound (On Heaven's charger's breast were envy's scars found). As softly moved he, sudden on his sight gleamed A moon that in the water shining bright beamed. O what a moon ! a sun o'er earth that light rains — Triumphant, happy, blest he who her shade gains. She'd made the pool a casket for her frame fair, And all about that casket spread her dark hair. Her hand did yonder curling serpents back throw — ^"^ The dawn 'tis, and thereof we never tired grow," He saw the water round about her ear play ; In rings upon her shoulders her dark locks lay. When yon heart-winning moon before the King beamed, The King became the sun — in him Love's fire gleamed. SHEYKHl. The tears e'en like to water from his eyes rolled ; — Was't strange, when did a Watery Sign the Moon hold?'* No power was left him, neither sport nor pleasure; He bit his finger, wildered beyond measure.** Unconscious of his gaze, the jasmine-breasted, — The hyacinths o'er the narcissi rested.'® When shone her day-face, from that musky cloud bare," Her eyes oped Shirin and beheld the King there. Within that fountain, through dismay and shamed fright, She trembled as on water doth the moonlight. Than this no other refuge could yon moon find That she should round about her her own locks bind. The moon yet beameth through the hair, the dark night,'* With tresses how could be concealed the sun bright? To hide her from him, round her she her hair flung, And thus as veil her night before her day hung. SHEYKHI, II From the Same. Gnnul bagladi chnn Shlnna Ferhâd, T T THEN Ferhâd bound to fair Shirin his heart's core, ' From out his breast Love many a bitter wail tore. On tablet of his life graved, shown was Shirin ; Of all else emptied, filled alone with Shirin. As loathed he the companionship of mankind, In wild beasts 'midst the hills did he his friends find. His guide was Pain ; his boon-companion, Grief's throe ; His comrade. Sorrow; and his closest friend. Woe. Thus wand'ring on, he knew not day from dark night ; For many days he onward strayed in sad plight. Although before his face a wall of stone rise. Until he strikes against it, blind his two eyes. Through yearning for his love he from the world fled ; From out his soul into his body Death sped. Because he knew that when the earthly frame goes, Eternal, Everlasting Being love shows. He fervent longed to be from fleshly bonds free, That then his life in very truth might Life see. In sooth, till dies the body. Life is ne'er found, Nor with the love of life the Loved One e'er found.'* YAZIJI-OGLU. 853[i449İ From the Muhammediyya.s» The Creation of Paradise." Gel beri ey tâlib-i Haqq istensen ibtihâj. T T ITHER come, O seeker after Truth ! if joy thou wouldest share, "*■ -'■ Enter on the Mystic Pathway, follow it, then joy thou'lt share." Hearken now what God (exalted high His name !) from nought hath formed. Eden's bower He hath created ; Light, its lamp, he did prepare ; Loftiest its sites, and best and fairest are its blest abodes ; Midst of each a hall of pearls — not ivory nor teak-wood rare. Each pavilion He from seventy ruddy rubies raised aloft, — Dwellings these in which the dwellers sit secure from fear or care. Round within each courtyard seventy splendid houses He hath ranged. Formed of emeralds green — houses these no fault of form that bear. There, wathin each house, are seventy pearl and gem-encrusted thrones ; He upon each throne hath stretched out seventy couches broidered fair ; Sits on every couch a maiden of the bourne of loveliness : Moons their foreheads, days their faces, each a jewelled crown doth wear ; Wine their rubies,^^ soft their eyes, their eyebrows troublous, causing woe: All-enchanting, Paradise pays tribute to their witching air. Sudden did they see the faces of those damsels dark of eye, Blinded sun and moon were, and Life's Stream grew bitter then and there. YAZIJT-OGLU. 9 Thou wouldst deem that each was formed of rubies, corals, and of pearls ; Question there is none, for God thus in the Qur'an doth declare.^ Tables seventy, fraught with bounties, He in every house hath placed, And on every tray hath spread out seventy sorts of varied fare. ♦ ******■)(■ All these glories, all these honours, all these blessings of delight, All these wondrous mercies surely for his sake He did prepare : Through His love unto Muhammed, He the universe hath framed ; ^^ Happy, for his sake, the naked and the hungry enter there. O Thou Perfectness of Potence ! O Thou God of Awful Might ! O Thou Majesty of Glory ! O Thou King of Perfect Right ! Smce He Eden's Heaven created, all is there complete and whole, So that nought is lacking ; nothing He created needs repair. Yonder, for His righteous servants, things so fair hath He devised. That no eye hath e'er beheld them ; ope thy soul's eye, on them stare. Never have His servants heard them, neither can their hearts conceive ; Reach unto their comprehension shall this understanding ne'er.^ There that God a station lofty, of the loftiest, hath reared. That unclouded station He the name Vesila caused to bear, That to His Beloved yonder station a dear home may be," Thence ordained is Heaven's order free from every grief and care. In its courtyard's riven centre, planted He the Tuba-Tree ; That a tree which hangeth downwards, high aloft its roots are there : Thus its radiance all the Heavens lighteth up from end to end, Flooding every tent and palace, every lane and every square.'^ lo YAZIjr-OGLU. Such a tree the Tuba, that that Gracious One hath in its sap Hidden whatso'er there be of gifts and presents good and fair ; Forth therefrom crowns, thrones, and jewels, yea, and steeds and coursers come, Golden leaves and clearest crystals, wines most pure beyond compare. For his sake there into being hath He called the Tuba-Tree, That from Ebû-Qâsim's hand might every one receive his share." II SULTAN M U R  D II 855 [1451} RUBÂ'Î. Sdqî, gutur, gutur yene dunki sherâbimi. /■"^UP-BEARER, bring, bring here again my yestereven's wine;^" My harp and rebeck bring, them bid address this heart of mine Whilst still I live, 'tis meet that I should mirth and glee enjoy ; The day shall come when none may e'en my resting-place divine. 'A VN Î. (SULTAN M U II A MM E D II.) 886 [1481] I Gazel. Zulfuna bâd-i sabâ erdikja jönler depreshir, Ç^ OULS are fluttered when the morning breezes through thy tresses stray; *^ Waving cypresses are wildered when thy motions they survey.^ Since with witchcraft thou hast whetted keen the lancet of thy glance, All my veins are bleeding inward through my longing and dismay. " Why across thy cheek disordered float thy tresses ? " asked I her. " It is Rûm-Eyli ; there high-starred heroes gallop," did she say.^ Thought I, though I spake not: " In thy quarter, through thy tint and scent,^ Wretched and head-giddy, wand'ring, those who hope hope not for stray." " Whence the anger in thy glances, O sweet love 1 " I said ; then she : '* Silence ! surely if I shed blood, I the ensigns should display." Even as thou sighest, 'Avnî, shower thine eyes tears fast as rain. Like as follow hard the thunder-roll the floods in dread array.^ 'AVNI. J 3 II Fragment of Gazel. yigerim paraladi khanjer-i jevr u sitemin. 'T^ORN and pierced my heart has been by thy scorn and tyranny's blade ; Rent by the scissors of grief for thee is the robe that my patience arrayed. Like the mihrab of the Ka'ba, as shrine where in worship to turn,^ Thy ward would an angel take, if thy foot-print there he surveyed. They are pearls, O mine eye ! thou sheddest her day-bright face before ; Not a tear is left — these all are dried by the beams by her cheek displayed. U 'AINI. Ill Gazel, Imtisdl-i Jâhidû' fi- 'İlâh olup dur niyyetım. " I ^O ohty Fight hard for Allah^ is my aim and my desire; ■*" 'Tis but zeal for Faith, for Islam, that my ardour doth inspire. Through the grace of Allah, and th' assistance of the Band Unseen,** Is my earnest hope the Infidels to crush with ruin dire. On the Saints'® and on the Prophets surely doth my trust repose; Through the love of God, to triumph and to conquest I aspire. "What if I with soul and gold strive here to wage the Holy War ? Praise is God's ! ten thousand sighs for battle in my breast suspire. O MuHAMMED ! through the chosen Ahmed Mukhtâr's glorious aid,*" Hope I that my might may triumph over Islam's foes acquire ! '5 'A D E N î . (THE GRAND VEZİR ıMAHMÜD PASHA.) 879 [1474] I Gazel. Shad olmaq isteyen gam ila mubtelS gerek. WJ HO pleasure seeks must oftentimes experience sad pain, in sooth ; He must a beggar be who doth desire to win domain, in sooth. Whene'er I sigh, up rise my tears, they, boiling, fast o'erflow my eyes ; Winds surely must full fiercely blow, with waves to fill the main, in sooth. A[y heart's domain now thought of thee, now grief for thee, alternate rule ; This realm to wreck and waste to lay those two sublime Kings strain, in sooth. Spite zeal and prayers. Truth sure is found within the cup that's filled with wine ; So acts of rakes are free from all hypocrisy's foul stain, in sooth.*' O 'Adenî, rub thou thy face low 'midst the dust that lines her path ; For eyes with blood filled stand in need of tûtyâ, health to gain, in sooth.** l6 'ADEN/. II Fragment of Gazel. Gurdugumja 'anberîn zulfun rukh-i dtldârda, WJ HEN I saw my love's hair, ambergris-hued, o'er her visage shake,*' " Strange," I thought, "a moon, musk-shedding, 'midst the flowers its bed should make!"** How thy locks, moon-face, are fallen o'er thy cheek in many a curl ! As in day he lies reposing, so in strength doth gain the snake.*-' From thy cheek the rose and tulip tint and scent have stol'n indeed ; Therefore through the bazar round they bear them, bounden to the stake.*^ 17  F I 1'  B i , 880 [1475 ^«^-J (i A Z E L. Vem dish yar asi var sTh-i zenakhdâninda . A GAIN, then, doth this apple, thy chin, tooth-marks wear : " Again they've eaten peaches in thine orchard fair ! ^ If strange hands have not reached thee, O rosebud-lipped one, Doth thy rose-garden's pathway a foot-step print bear ! I cannot reach thee before rivals all throng thee round : Less for true lover than vile dog dost thou care. Witness that thou with my rivals the cup drain'dst last night. Bears the sleepless and worn look thy languid eyes wear. With whom didst thou last even carouse, that this day Morn's zephyr about thee did so much news declare ? Beholding thy lips hurt,** Âfitâbî hath said : " Again, then, doth this apple, thy chin, tooth-marks wear ! " I» ZEYNEB. 886 [i 48 1 ca.] Gazel. Keshf et niq ahini, yeri guktı muneri'er et. /^~^AST off thy veil, and heaven and earth in dazzling light array! ^~^ As radiant Paradise, this poor demented world display ! Move thou thy lips, make play the ripples light of Kevser's pool ! " Let loose thy scented locks, and odours sweet through earth convey ! A musky warrant by thy down was traced, and zephyr charged : — '* " Speed, with this scent subdue the realms of China and Cathay ! " " O heart ! should not thy portion be the Water bright of Life, A thousand times mayst thou pursue Iskender's darksome way.** O Zeyneb, woman's love of earthly show leave thou behind ; Go manly forth, with single heart, forsake adornment gay ! ** 19 PRINCE JEM. 90J [1495J I Gazel. Dil helak eyler guzun, khancher cheker jân ustutta. AH ! thine eyes lay uaste the heart, they 'gainst the soul bare daggers dread ; See how sanguinary gleam they — blood aye upon blood they shed. Come, the picture of thy down bear unto this my scorched breast, — It is customary fresh greens over the broiled flesh to spread." Said I ; " O Life ! since thy lip is life, to me vouchsafe a kiss." Smiling rose-like, "Surely, surely, by my life," she answerM. As I weep sore, of my stainbd eyebrow and my tears of blood, '"Tis the rainbow o'er the shower stretched," were by all beholders said. Whilst within my heart thine eye's shaft, send not to my breast despair; Idol mine ! guest after guest must not to one same house be led. Through its grieving for thy hyacinthine down, thus feeble grown Is the basil, that the gardeners nightly o'er it water shed."* Quoth I : " O Life ! do not shun Jem, he a pilgrim here hath come ; " " Though a pilgrim, yet his life doth on a child's face hang," she said. 26 PRJNCE JEM. II Fragment. lashtatl aukunup yurur âb-i rewdni gut. T O ! there the torrent, dashing 'gainst the rocks, doth wildly roll ; — ' The whole wide realm of Space and Being ruth hath on my soul. Through bitterness of grief and woe the morn hath rent its robe ; See ! O in dawning's place, the sky weeps blood, without control ! Tears shedding, o'er the mountain-tops the clouds of heaven pass ; Hear, deep the bursting thunder sobs and moans through stress of dole. AHMED PASHA. (GRAND VEZİR. 902 [1496] Gaze l. Jdna qalmaz bftse'-i ia'l-i M-i yâr isteyen. T T E who longs for ruby lip's kiss may not calm of soul remain : "*■ -'■ He his head must yield who hopes the dusky locks' sweet scent to gain. Still in heart abides not longing's flame when one her ward beholds; Him who seeks her face contents not even Heaven's flowery plain. Yonder sugar-lip's surrounded by her cheek's down ; — where art thou, thou seeker of the rose's company without thorn's pain ? Wouldest thou delight ? Then plunge thou deep beneath Love's ocean surge : He who would for regal pearls dive, surely should know well the main.** Though the loved one mocks at Ahmed's faults and failings, what of that ? He who seeks a friend that's blameless must without a friend remain. a N E J A T î . 914 [1508] I From his Winter Qasida.^ 0/i/u chunkim melakh berj hewaden nazil. T OCUST-LIKE down from the sky the snowflakes wing their way ; — ' From the green-plumaged bird, Delight, O heart ! hope not for lay. Like drunken camels, spatter now the clouds earth's winding-sheet • Laded the caravan of mirth and glee, and passed away. With lighted lamps in daytime seek the people for the sun ; Yet scarce, with trouble, a dim, fitful spark discover they. ** ****«♦ The Moon in Sign of Bounteousness ! the Shade of Allah's grace ! The King, star-armied ! he in aspect fair as Hermes' ray — The Khân Muhammed ! at the portal of whose sphere of might To wait as servants would Darius and Key-Khusrev pray ! ^ E'en should the sun till the Last Day it measure with gold beam. Nor shore nor depth could e'er it find to th' ocean of his sway ! NEJA Tl. %ı II From his Spring QasTda. Khandân eder jihâni yene fasl-i nei'-bahâr. nr^HE early springtide now hath made earth smiling bright again, "*• E'en as doth union with his mistress soothe the lover's pain. They say : " 'Tis now the goblet's turn, the time of mirth 'tis now ; " Beware that to the winds thou castest not this hour in vain, Theriaca within their ruby pots the tulips lay :" See in the mead the running streamlet's glistenmg, snake-like train. Onwards, beneath some cypress-tree's loved foot its face to rub, With turn and turn, and singing sweet, the brook goes through the plain. Lord ! may this happy union of felicity and earth, Like turn of sun of Love, or Jesu's life, standfast remain ! *^* May glee and mirth, e'en as desired, continuous abide, Like to a mighty Key-Khusrev's, or Jemshid's, glorious reign i*^ *«■♦♦♦*** Sultan Muhammed ! Murâd's son ! the Pride of Princes all ; He, the Darius, who to all earth's Kings doth crowns ordain ! Monarch of stars ! whose flag's the sun, whose stirrup is the moon ! Prince dread as Doom, and strong as Fate, and bounteous as main : 14 NF.JÂ'lJ. Ill From his QasIda on the Acckssion of Siiltan Bâvezîd II. Bir dun ki qihnishidi iemâlitıa âfitâh. /'^NE eve, when had the Sun before her radiant beauty bright ^^ Let down the veil of ambergris, the musky locks of night ; (Off had the royal hawk, the Sun, flown from the Orient's hand. And lighted in the West ; flocked after him the crows in flight ;) To catch the gloomy raven, Night, the fowler skilled, the Sphere, Had shaped the new-moon like the claw of eagle, sharp to smite ; In pity at the doleful sight of sunset's crimson blood, Its veil across the Heaven's eye had drawn the dusky Night. *♦♦♦***♦ Sultan of Rome ! " Khusrev of the Horizons ! ^ Bâyezîd ! King of the Epoch ! Sovereign ! and Centre of all Right ! The tablet of his heart doth all th' affairs of earth disclose; And eloquent as page of book the words he doth indite O Shah ! I'm he who, 'midst th' assembly where thy praise is sung, Will, rebeck-like, a thousand notes upon one cord recite." 'Tis meet perfection through thy name to my poor words should come. As to rosewater perfume sweet is brought by sunbeam's light. AY 7.-/ Tl 25 IV Ci A y. E L. Ifaıi(}â İm dm- In salin-i jilithi ki»i (/oiia^ HANDKERCHIEF ! I send thee— oft" to yonder maid of grace ; ^-^^ Around tliee I my eyelashes will make the fringe of lace ; I will the black point of my eye rub up to paint therewith ; *" To yon coquettish beauty go — go look thou in her face. • O Handkerchief! the loved one's hand take, kiss her lip so sweet, Her chin, which mocks at apple and at orange, kissing greet ; If sudden any dust should light upon her lilessM heart. Fall down before her, kiss her sandal's sole, beneath her feet. A sample of my tears of blood thou, Handkerchief, wilt show, Through these within a moment would a thousand crimson grow ; Thou'lt be in company with her, while I am sad with grief; To me no longer life may be, if things continue so. M K s i 11 I. 918 [1512J I From his Spking QasIda.'* Kh,âb-i gajietıleıı tıyanvıaga 'ıty/ln-i ezhâr. TIP from indolent sleep the eyes of the flowers to awake, Over their faces each dawn the cloudlets of spring water shake. Denizens all of the mead now with new life are so filled, That were its foot not secured, into dancing the cypress would break. Roses' fair cheeks to describe, all of their beauty to tell. Lines on the clear river's page rain-drops and light ripples make. Silvery rings, thou would'st say, they hung in the bright waters ear, When the fresh rain-drops of spring fall on the stretch of the lake. Since the ring-dove, who aloft sits on the cypress, its praise Sings, were it strange if he be sad and love-sick for its sake? * ■>■ •? -'^ * •* •* ♦ Prince of the Climate of Speech, noble Nishanji Pasha, To the mark of whose kindness the shaft of thought can its way never make. When poets into their hands the chaplet, thy verses, have taen, "' J pardon implore of the Lord" for litany ever ihey lake. M ES nil. II M U R E li ÜA'."" Dinle bulhul ıjisstisitt kim ^ddi eyyâın-i hahâr. T T ARK the bulbul's lay so joyous : " Now have conic the days of spring." Merry shows and crowds on every mead they sjjread, a maze of spring;"* There the ahiiond-tree its silvern blossoms scatters, sprays of spring: Drink, be gay, for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring. Once again with varied flowrets decked themselves have mead and j)lain : Tents for pleasure have the blossoms raised in every rosy lane. Who can tell, when spring hath ended, who and what may whole remain? Drink, be gay, for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring. All the alleys of the parterre filled with Ahmed's Light appear,"' Verdant herbs his Comrades, tulips like his Family bright appear ; O ye People of Muhammed ! times now of delight appear : Drink, be gay, for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring. Sparkling dew-drops stud the lily's leaf like sabre broad and keen ; Bent on merry gipsy-party, crowd they all the flow'ry green : " List to me, if thou desirest, these beholding, joy to glean : Drink, be gay, for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring. Rose and tulip, like to lovely maidens' cheeks, all beauteous show, Whilst the dew-drops, like the jewels in their ears, resplendent glow ; Do not think, thyself beguiling, things will aye continue so : Drink, be gay, for soon will vanish, biding not. the days of spring. MESIUJ. 29 Rose, anemone, and tulip — ihcsc, tlie garden's fairest tlowers — Midst the i)arterre is their blood shed neaih the lightning-darts and showers." Art thou wise ? — then with thy comrades dear enjoy the fleeting hours : Drink, be gay, for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring. Past the moments when with sickness were the ailing herbs opprest, When the garden's care, the rose-bud, hid its sad head in its breast ; "^ Come is now the time when hill and rock with tulips dense are drest : Drink, be gay, for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring. Whilst each dawn the clouds are shedding jewels o'er the rosy land, And the breath of morning's zephyr, fraught with Tatar musk is bland ; \\'hilst the world's fair time is present, do not thou unheeding stand : Drink, be gay, for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of sjmng. With the fragrance of the garden, so imbued the musky air. Every dew-drop, ere it reaches earth, is turned to attar rare ; O'er the parterre spread the incense-clouds a canopy right fair : Drink, be gay, for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring. \\hatsoe'er the garden boasted smote the black autumnal blast ; But, to each one justice bringing, back hath come Earth's King at last ; In his reign joyed the cup-bearer, round the call for wine is past : Drink, be gay, for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring. Ah! I fondly hope, Mesihî, fame may to these quatrains cling; May the worthy these four-eyebrowed beauties oft to mem'ry bring ; — "' Stray amongst the rosy faces, Bulbul, who so sweet dost sing : '* Drink, be gay, for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring. s« H A R I M I. (PRINCE Q O R Q U D. ) 918 [1512] F R A G M K N T. 7(7/' u qabayi (crk cJip ^uryân olayiii bir zemân. T) OTH crown and robe forsake shall I, I'll roam, by these unprest, a ^ while ; 'Midst foreign lands, far off from here, I'll dwell a wayworn guest, a while. O minstrel fair, both harp and lute's sweet music hushed must now remain ; Woe's feast is spread, ah ! there the flute : — my sighs by grief opprest, a while. Sometimes I'll fall, sometimes I'll rise, sometimes 111 laugh, sometimes I'll weep, Blood drinking now," woe tasting then, distracted sore I'll rest, a while. 3» M I H R Î. 920 [15 14 07.] I (i A Z E L. Kh.âhıien achtiivi qhz//»/ tıâ-^ıî/ı qahiirdim srtu /'~\ NCE from sleep I oped my eyes, I raised my head, when full in sight There before me stood a moon-faced beauty, lovely, shining, bright. Thought I : "In th' ascendant's now my star, or I my fate have reached, For within my chamber sure is risen Jupiter this night.""* Radiance from his beauty streaming saw I, though to outward view (Whilst himself a Muslim) he in garb of infidel is dight. Though I oped my eyes or closed them, still the form was ever there ; Thus I fancied to myself: "A fairy this or angel bright?" Till the Resurrection ne'er shall Mihrî gain the Stream of Life ; Yet in Night's dccji gloom I-^kondor gleamed before her wond'ring sight.'" 32 MIIIKİ. II (1 A 7. ı; 1,. />'ı7/ uniıjrıiiııı ki houa yiir-i iw/a-dar otashı. T^AITHFUL and kind a friend I hoped that thou wouldest prove "*■ to me ; Who would have thought so cruel and fierce a tyrant in thee to see? Thou who the newly-oped rose art of the Garden of Paradise, That every thorn and thistle thou lov'st — how can it fitting be? I curse thee not, but of God Most High, Our Lord, I make this prayer — That thou may'st love a pitiless one in tyranny like to thee. In such a plight am I now, alack ! that the curser saith to his foe : "Be thy fortune dark and thy jwrtion hhrk. even as those of Mihrî!" 33 S E M. Mî. (SULTAN S K L İ M I.J 926 [1520] (İAZKI..*' I.eslıker er, takht-i hlâıthöl sı'ı-yi Iran taiJiL'm, T^ROM Istâmböl's throne a mighty host to îrân guided I ; ^' -*- Sunken deep in blood of shame I made the Golden Heads to lie.' Glad the Slave, my resolution, lord of Egypt's realm became:*' Thus I raised my royal banner e'en as the Nine Heavens high." From the kingdom fair of 'Irâ([ to Hijâz these tidings sped,**^ When I played the harp of Heavenly Aid at feast of victory. Through my sabre Transoxania drowned was in a sea of blood ; Emptied I of kuhl of Isfahan the adversary's eye.*' Flowed adown a River Âmü ^ from each foeman's every hair — Rolled the sweat of terror's fever— if I happed hiin to espy. Bishop-mated was the King of India by ni)' Queenly troops,** When I played the Chess of empire on the Board of sov'reignly. O Selimi, in thy name was struck the coinage of the world, When in crucible of Love Divine, like gold, that melted I.*^ 34 M r II I I", i; i. (S u LT A N > r I. i: n' m a n i.) 974 ['566] I Cı .\Z V. h. Sfiıiıı dcrditı hana dertııâna hcıtzer. 1\ /r \' pain for thee balm in my sight resembles ; ^^ ^ Thy face's beam the clear moonhght resembles. Thy black hair spread across thy cheeks, the roses, O Liege, the garden's basil quite resembles. Beside thy lip oped wide its mouth, the rosebud ; For shame it blushed, it blood outright resembles. Thy mouth, a casket fair of pearls and rubies. Thy teeth, pearls, thy lip coral bright resembles : Their diver I, each morning and each even ; My weeping, Liege, the ocean's might resembles. Lest he seduce thee, this my dread and terror. That rival who Iblis in spite resembles.^ Around the taper bright, thy cheek, MuhibbI Turns, and the moth in his sad plight resembles.^' ML'UIBDI. II C) A z E r . Ikhliyâr-i jiqr cdcn dcri^âh ii cj'îCıin iskiiuz. T T Vj who i)Ovcrty electetli, Imll and fane tksircth not ; *■ ^ Than ihe loud of woe aughi other hivad to gain dcsircth not. He who, khig-Hke, on the throne of blest coiUentnient sits aloft, O'er the Seven Climes as Sultan high to reign desireth not. He, who in his bosom strikes his nails, and opes the wound atresh, On the garden looks not, sight of rosy lane desireth not.''"' He, who is of Ivove's true subjects, bideth in the fair one's ward, Wand'ring there distracted, mountain lone or i)lain desireth not. O Mlhiiu'.i, he who drinketh from the I.oved One's hand a glass. E'en from Khi/ar's hand Life's \\'ater brii^ht to drain desireth not.'"'' 36 F 1 ( ; .\ N I . ';;>;> I '5-^1 ( ; A / K L. (On a Dama>kei;nf,d Swokd.) Huidit ivuruna tr^i n'r^nnn zebdnc dir. \ FLAME tlial Picture's '•' sahrc in its dcadlincss oi blow : -^ ^ Like sparks upon its face the marks of damaskeening glow. Is't strange that by thy side the bird, my heart, should rest secure? Thy sabre damaskeened to it doth grain and water show ! The watered scimitar within thy grasp an ocean is, In which the lines and marks are scattered pearls unique, I trow. Thy sword a sky, its stars the marks of damaskeening shine. My heart's blood there upon its face like break of dawn doth glow. What though I call that Picture's brand a branch of Judas-tree?^* l-"or there the damask marks and grains like flowers and blossoms blow. FiGANi's verse on yonder King of Beauty's empire's sword Doth like unto a runnini; stream uf limpid Nvater flow. 57 1, A M I • I ';3« [>53'1 I I ).UM lllh MU.NÂZAR I-I SlIIT U ÜAIIÂR. ().\ AUIL.MN. (Jcl t'V s/i filîde ilil scidCi dcıııi dii. /^^\ SAD heart, coiiK', distraction's hour is no\\ high, ^-"'^ The air's cool, "midst tlic fields to sit the time nigli. The .Sun hath to the Balance, Joseph-like, past, The year's Zuleykha hath her gold hoard wide cast.°^ By winds bronzed, like the Sun, the (juince's face glows ; Its Pleiads-clusters, hanging forth, the vine shows. In saffron flow'rets have the meads themselves dight ; The trees, all scorched, U) gold have turned, and shine bright. 'I'he gilded leaves in showers falling to earth gleam ; With gold-fish'"' filled doth glisten hrightl) each stream. .Ablaze each tree, and blent are all in one glare, And therefore < harged with glistening fux- the still air. .\mitlst the \ell(iw foliage perched the bhu k crows — As tlilij), saffron-hued. that sjiotted i up shows. .\ \ellowplumaged birtl. now ever)- tree stands, \\ lii( h sliakes itself and feathers sheds on all hand>, 38 I AMI'/. \',m\\ \iiK-lc;ir paiiils its face, hridc-likc, wilh gold ink;''" riic hrools (loth sil\i-r :ınkİLls round iIk' \inc link.''" Tlic |>I;ukH\c lialli il-. IkukU,' ' wiiJi liinn;i, ixd d\cd,"" Anil stMnd-. llicix of llic |i;nkric'N court the fair bride. The erst ,i;rccn tree now like the starry sky shows. .\nd hurlinu, uieleor.-> at the fiend, 1-^arlh, stones throws."" l.AMI-l. II V K o M T II K S \ Nf I".. On Si>ki\(;. Zc7'(] II sYT'ı/ 71 lıâUtiıiık'iı I'll (h'i)iin. T^ROM the pleasure, joy, and rapture of this hour, In its frame to hold its soul earth scarce hath power. Rent its collar, like the dawning, hath the rose ; From its heart the nightingale sighs forth its woes. Dance the juniper and cyi)ress like the sphere ; Filled with melody through joy all lands appear. Gently sing the running brooks in murmurs soft ; While the birds with tuneful voices soar aloft. Play the green and tender branches with delight, .\nd they shed with one accord gold, silver, bright. '"-' Like to couriers fleet, the zephyrs speed awa\-. Resting ne'er a moment either night or day. In that raid the rosebud filled with gold its hoard, And the tulip with fresh musk its casket stored. There the moun a jjurse of silver coin did seize ; Filled with ambergris its skirt the morning breeze ; ^\'on the sun a golden disc of ruby dye, And with glistening pearls its pocket filled the sky: Those who poor were fruit and foliage attained ; All the people of the land some trophy gained, 4" I.IMI'I, III I" K . 'I'liose who it viesv, and ponder wrll with thoujiht's eye, Is't strange, if they be nia/.ed and wildeied thereby? Up! breeze-like, Lâmi'î, thy hermitage leave! The roses' days in sooth no time for fasts give ! 43 K E M Âl, P A S H AZ A D A. 941 [1534] From his Elegy on Sultan Selim I. "» *.4:»ıdıi ne7.>-j>('oâtı, hoznuia pir. T T E, an old man in ]»rudence, a youth in might; His sword aye triumphant, his word ever right. Like Asef in wisdom, the |)ride of his host ; '^'' He needed no vezir, no niushir in tight. His hand was a sabre ; a dagger, his tongue ; His finger, an arrow; his arm, a s])ear bright. In shortest of time many high deeds lie wrought ; Encircle the world did the shade of his might. The Sun of his Day, but the sun at day's close, Throwing long shadow, but brief while in sight.^"*' Of throne and of diadem sovereigns boast. But boasted of him throne and diadem bright. Delight would his heart in that festival find. Whither doth sabre's and fife's clang invite. In feats with the sword, eke at feasts at the board, "^' On his i)eer ne'er alight did the aged Sphere's sight : 44 KEM //. rAMJ A/ADA. Sped he to the buard's feast- a Sun beaming bright ! Swejil lie lo llie sword's field- -a l.ii yo(j. /^~^OME İS the autumn of my lift-, alas, ii thus should pass away! ^~^ I have not reached the dawn of joy. to sorrow's night there is no day. I'ime after time the image of her cheek, lalls on my tear-filled eye ; .\h ! no pretension to esteem can shadows in the water lay ! Oh ! whither will these winds of Fate impel tlie frail barque of the heart ? Nor bound nor shore confining girds Time's dreary ocean of dismav ' "^ 48 I S H A Q C H K L E B I. 944 [1537] Ci A Z K I.. Gamdan uhluni, ev meh-i nâ-nıilnhâuii)i, (jnnda st» ? T~\EA1) am I of grief, my Moon no love who shows, ah! where art thou? Reach the skies, the plaints and wails horn of my woes, ah ! where art thou ? Save within thy rosy bower rests not the nightingale, the heart ; Figure fair as waving cypress, face as rose, ah ! where art thou ? Through thy lips the rose drops sugar at the feast of heart and soul ; Where, my Parrot whose sweet voice doth love disclose, ah ! where art thou ? "•' Though with longing dead were Ish\i), live should he, did once she say: " O my poor one, wildered, weary, torn by woes, ah ! where art thou ? " 49 ZÂTİ. 953 [1546] (i AZ EL. 0\ THE Proi'Het Mlhammed. Qametiu, ey hûstân-i Lâ-MelcJn PTnîyesi ! ''T^HAT thy form, O Beauty of His orchard who doth all pervade ! Is a cypress, wrought of light, that casteth on earth's face no shade. "^ Though the gazers on the loveliness of Joseph cut their hands,"^ Cleft in twain the fair moon's palm, when it thy day-bright face surveyed."* To the mart of the Hereafter, when a man hath passed, he gains Through the money bright, thy love, which is of joy the stock-in-trade. This, my hope, that yonder Cypress in the bowers of Paradise Shelter ZntF, and all true believers, 'ncath his blissful shade. 5° LUTFÎ. (G RAND V EZ i R.) 957 [1550] Gazel. Firqatindan chiqdi jân, ey verd-i khandânim, vıeded ! nr^HROUGH thine absence, smiling Rosebud, forth my soul doth go, alas ! ^ Earth is flooded by the tears down from my eyes that flow, alas ! Should'st thou ask about my days, without thee they're black as thy hair ; 'Midst of darkness, O my Stream of Life, I'm lying low, alas!^ With the stones of slander stone me all the cruel rival throng ; O my Liege, my Queen, 'tis time now mercy thou should'st show, alas ! When I die through longing for thee, and thou passest o'er my breast, Yrom my dust thou'lt hear full many bitter sighs of woe, alas ! In his loved one's cause will LutfI surely die the martyr's death ; Let her brigand eyes from mulct for blood of mine free go, alas ! SI M U K H L I S î. (PRINCE MUSTAFA. 960 [1552] Gazel. Nif^at isiersen eger mihr-i jihân-ârâ gibi. T F 'tis State thou seekest like the world-adorning sun's array, Lowly e'en as water rub thy face in earth's dust every day. Fair to see, but short enduring is this picture bright, the world ; 'Tis a proverb : Fleeting like the realm of dreams is earth's displa)'. Through the needle of its eyelash never hath the heart's thread past; Like unto the Lord Messiah bide I half-road on the way."" Athlete of the Universe through self-reliance grows the Heart, With the ball, the Sphere — Time, Fortune — like an apple doth it play. MuKHLisI, thy frame was formed from but one drop,'-" yet, wonder great ! When thou verses sing'st, thy spirit like the ocean swells, they say. 52 K H I V A I, Î. 964 [1556] (I A 2 E I.. Bir ebed milkina jâtıiın heın-j'nvâr etmek, ntjef /'"^NE with Realms Eternal this my soul to make; what wouldesi say? ^~-^^ All Creation's empire's fancies to forsake; what wouldest say? Wearing to a hair my frame with bitter sighs and moans, in love, Nestling in the Fair One's tresses, rest to take ; what wouldest say ? Yonder gold-faced birds within the quicksilver-resplendent deep : '-' Launching forth the hawk, my striving, these to take ; what wouldest say ? Yonder Nine Smaragdine Bowls ^" of Heaven ^ to quaff at one deep draught, Yet from all ebriety's fumes free to break ; what wouldest say? To an autumn leaf the Sphere hath turned KhivAlî s countenance ; To the Spring of Beauty, that a gift to make ; what wouldest say ? SHAH î. (PRINCi: i; Av EZ i D.) 969 [i 561] Gazel.'-^ Ben nije ıciyi' edem iı'ıl-i cnıclla nefesi i WJ ITH longing fond and vain, why should I make my soul to mourn ? One trace of love of earth holds not my heart — all is forsworn. I'here ready stands the caravan, to Death's dim realms addrest, E'en now the tinkling of its bells down on my ears is borne. ^-'' Come then, O bird, my soul, be still, disquiet leave far off; See, how this cage, the body, is with years and suffering worn. But yet, to weary, wasted, sin-stained Shâhî, what of fear? Since Thou'rt the God of Love, the helping Friend o{ those forlorn! 54 KUZ O I. I. 970 [1562] 1 Gazeu Sabâ, lutf chilli, ehl-i dcıda (icrııtclndeıt khaber verdin. /~\ 15REEZE, thou'rt kind, of balm to those whom pangs affright, thou ^-^ news hast brought, To wounded frame of life, to life of life's delight thou news hast brought. Thou'st seen the mourning nightingale's despair in sorrow's autumn drear, Like springtide days, of smiling roseleaf fresh and bright, thou news hast brought. If I should say thy words are heaven-inspired, in truth, blaspheme I not ; Of P'aith, wliilst unbelief doth earth hold fast and tight, thou news hast brought. They say the loved one comes to soothe the hearts of all her lovers true ; If that the case, to yon fair maid of lovers' plight thou news hast brought. Of rebel demon thou hast cut the hope Suleymân's throne to gain; That in the sea secure doth lie his Ring of might, thou news hast brought'"' FuzüıJ, through the parting night, alas, how dark my fortune grew ! Like zei)hyr of the dawn, of shining sun's fair light thou news hast brought. II ZVU. II (i AZ EI,. Ey wtijfid-i kâmilin csrâr-i hikmet masiftin. /^~\ THOU Perfect Being, Source whence wisdom's mysteries arise ; ^-^^ Things, the issue of Thine essence, show wherein Thy nature lies. Manifester of all wisdom, Tliou art He whose pen of might Hath with rays of stars illumined yonder gleaming page, the skies. That a happy star, indeed, the essence clear of whose bright self Truly knoweth how the blessings from Thy word that flow to prize. But a jewel flawed am faulty I : alas, for ever stands Blank the page of my heart's journal from thought of Thy writing wise. In the journal of my actions Evil's lines are black indeed ; When I think of Day of (Gathering's terrors, blood flows from my eyes. Gathering of my tears will form a torrent on the Reckoning Day, If the pearls, my tears, rejecting. He but view them to desjiise : Pearls my tears are, O Fuzûlî, from the ocean deep of love ; But they're pearls these, oh ! most surely, that the Love of Allah buys ! 56 Fl-ZÛLl. Ill o A 7. r I.. A'ola ırshk-i rııhhsânvla />n(;ri klıfıhleriıı qnu dir 'f TS'T Strange if beauties' hearts turn blood through envy of thy cheek -*- most fair?'-'" For that which stone to ruby turns is but the radiant sunlight's glare.'-"^ Or strange is't if thine eyelash conquer all the stony-hearted ones ? P'or meet an ebon shaft like that a barb of adamant should bear ! Thy cheek's sun-love ^■- hath on the hard, hard hearts of fairy beauties fall'n, And many a steely-eyed one hath received thy bright reflection fair.''-^ The casket, thy sweet mouth, doth hold spell-bound the hûri-faced ones all ; The virtue of Suleymân's Ring was that fays thereto fealty sware.'^ Is't strange if, seeing thee, they rub their faces lowly midst the dust? That down to Adam bowed the angel throng doth the Qur'an declare ! "' On many and many a heart of stone have fall'n the pangs of love for thee ! A fire that lies in stone concealed is thy heart-burning love's dread glare ! Within her ward, with garments rent, on all sides rosy-cheeked ones stray ; 1'"l"zClT, through those radiant hues, that quarter beams a gardeii fair. I- uz LU, IV G A Z E L. Rüzi^drim hııldu dcırâıı-i felekdoı vujildh. IF^RO.M the turning of tlıe Sphere my liu k liath seen reverse and woe;"* lihjod I've drunk,"' for from my bancjuet wine arose and forth did go. With the flame, my burning sighs, I've Ht the wand'ring wildered heart ; I'm a fire, doth not all that which turns about me roasted glow? ^Vith thy rubies wine contended — oh ! how it hath lost its wits ! Need 'tis yon ill-mannered wretch's company that we forego. Yonder Moon saw not my burning's flame upon the parting day — How can e'er the sun about the taper all night burning know ? ' '■' Every eye that all around tears scatters, thinking of thy shaft, Is an oyster-shell that causeth rain-drops into pearls to grow.'-" l''orms my sighing's smoke '''^ a cloud that veils the bright cheek of the moon ; Ah ! that yon fair Moon will ne'er the veil from off her beauty throw ! Ne'er hath ceased the rival e'en within her ward to vex me sore ; How sav thev, Fi'züı.î : "There's in Paradise nor grief nor woe".-"'' 58 Fi 'Z (■/./. M USEDDRS.'** D/nt Sıîvf salıii hashitna bir scn-i ser-buUnd. \ STATELY Cypress yesterday her shade threw o'er my head ; "^ ^ Her form was heart-ensnaring, heart-delighting her Hght tread ; When speaking, sudden opened she her smiling rubies red, There a jiistachio I f)cheld that drops of candy shed.'"^ "This casket '■■" can it be a mouth ? Ah ! deign ! " I said ; said sh.e : " Nay, nay, 'tis balm to cure thy hidden smart : aye. trulv thine ! " Down o'er her crescents she had pressed the turban she did wear,'** By which, from many broken hearts, sighs raised she of despair ; She loosed her tresses — hid within the cloud her moon so fair,"* And o'er her visage I beheld the curls of her black hair. " Those curling locks, say, are they then a chain ? " I said ; said she "That round my cheek, a noose to take thy heart; aye, truly thine!" The taper bright, her cheek, illumined day's lamp in the sky; The rose's branch was bent before her figure, cypress-high ; She, cypress-like, her foot set down ujjon the fount, my eye, But many a thorn did pierce her foot, she suftered pain thereby."" "What thorn unto the roseleaf-foot gives pain?" I said; said she: " The lash of thy wet eye doth it impart : aye. truly thine ! " FUZÛLÎ. 59 Promenading, to the garden did that jasmine-cheeked one go ; With many a bright adornment in the early springtide's glow ; The hyacinths their musky locks did o'er the roses throw ;"' That Picture'''' had tattooed her lovely feet rose-red to show.'*^ "The tulip's hue whence doth the dog-rose gain?" '"I said; said she: " From blood of thine shed 'neath my glance's dart ; aye, truly thine ! " To earth within her ward my tears in torrents rolled apace ; The accents of her ruby lip my soul crazed by their grace ; My heart was taken in the snare her musky locks did trace, That very moment when my eyes fell on her curls and face. " Doth Scorpio the bright Moon's House contain ? " '^^ I said ; said, she : " Fear ! threatening this Conjunction dread, thy part ; aye, truly thine ! " Her hair with ambergris perfumed was waving o'er her cheek, On many grieving, passioned souls it cruel woe did wreak ; Her graceful form and many charms my wildered heart made weak ; The eye beheld her figure fair, then heart and soul did seek. "Ah! what bright thing this cypress of the plain?" I said; said she: " 'Tis that which thy fixed gaze beholds apart ; aye, truly thine ! " \V'hen their veil her tulip and dog-rose had let down yesterday,'^* The morning breeze tore off that screen which o'er these flow'rets lay ; Came forth that Envy of the sun in garden fair to stray. Like lustrous pearls the dew-drops shone, a bright and glistening spray. "Pearls, say, are these, aye pearls from 'Aden's main?"'^ I said; said she; "Tears, these, of poor FuzCU, sad of heart ; aye, truly thine ! 6o /U/t'/./. VI M U K H A M M E S. /;> ha lir khıt tenin ınııthnj bilür khi( ,^ııl âh. A TTAR within vase of crystal, such thy fair form silken-gowned; ■^^^ And thy breast is gleaming water, where the bubbles clear abound : " Thou so bright none who may gaze upon thee on the earth is found ; Hold wert thou to cast the veil off, standing forth with garland crowned : Not a doubt but woe and ruin all the wide world must confound! Lures the heart thy gilded palace, points it to thy lips the way; Eagerly the ear doth listen for the words thy rubies say ; Near thy hair the comb remaineth, I despairing far away : Bites the comb, each curling ringlet, when it through thy locks doth stray: '■^ Jealous at its sight, my heart's thread agonised goes curling round. Ah ! her face the rose, her shift rose-hued, her trousers red their shade ; ^Vith its flame burns us the fiery garb in which thou art arrayed. Ne'er was burn of .\dam"s children one like thee, O cruel maid ! Moon and Sun, in beauty's circle, at thy fairness stand dismayed : Seems it thou the Sun for mother and the Moon for sire hast owned.'*' Cajnive bound in thy red fillet, grieve I through thy musky hair ; IVone I 'neaih those golden anklets whic h thy silvern limbs do wear :'*"' KZCl.I. 6 1 Think nut 1 am like thy tillct, Liiipty ot" thy grace, O fair ! Rather to tlie gulden chain, which liangs thy clieek round, me com]>are : '''*' In my sad iieart pangs a thousand from thy glance's shafts are found. Kyes with antimony darkened, hands with hinna ( rimson dyed ;''"' Throtigh these beauties vain and wanton like to thee was ne'er a liride. Bows of po])lar green, thy painted brows ; thy glances shafts provide.''"^' Poor Fuzûlî for thine eyes and eyebrows aye hath longing cried : ']'hal the l>ird from how and arrow flees not, well may all astoimd. 6a /-I /A /J. \II V ROM HIS L K Y I. Î A N D M K J N I N.' * The (Jazll ok ihk Master. yrtw ''ermn garni 'is/tijn ki 'is/ii/ âjet-i j(in dir. XT' I ELD not the soul to pang of Love, for Love's the soul's fierce glow; "*■ That Love's the torment of the soul doth all the wide world know. Seek not for gain from fancy wild of pang of Love at all ; For all that comes from fancy wild of Love's pang is grie. s throe. Each curving eyebrow is a blood-stained sabre thee to slay ; Each dusky curl, a deadly venomed snake to work thee woe. Lovely, indeed, the forms of moon-like maidens are to see — Lovely to see, but ah ! the end doth bitter anguish show. From this I know full well that torment dire in love abides, That all who lovers are, engrossed with sighs, rove to and fro. Call not to mind the pupils of the black-eyed damsels bright, With thought: "I'm man,"' be not deceived, 'tis blood they drink, I trow.'- E'en if Fuzûlî should declare: "In fair ones there is troth;" Be not deceived: "A poet's words are falsehoods all men know."^*^ FUZVl.f. 63 VIII From the Same. M F. J X C X ADDRESSES N E V F I L. A/t'Jiin)! (iciii : " Ey yes^niic-i '(? //(/."' /^UOTH MejxCx : " O sole friend of true plight ! '^ With counsel many have tried me to guide right : Many with wisdom gifted have advice shown, But yet this fiend hath been by no one o'erthrown ; Much gold has on the earth been strewn round, But yet this Stone of Alchemist by none's found.'" Collyrium I know that doth increase light, What use though is it if the eye doth lack sight ? I know that greatest kindliness in thee lies, What use, though, when my fate doth ever dark rise ? Upon my gloomy fortune I no f:iith lay, Impossible my hope appeareth alway. Ah ! though in thi.-, thou shouldest ever hard toil, The end at length will surely all thy plans foil. No kindliness to me my closest friends show ; Who is a friend to him whom he doth deem foe ? I know my fortune evil is and woe-fraught ; The search for solace is to me, save pain, nought. There is a gazel that doth well my lot show, Which con>tant I repeat where'er m)- steps go. r,4 ir/.ri.i. IX 1 KOM |H|.. SaMK. M r. \ N C x's (; A Z F. I.. //cyir //c-y- kiinscdcn him iilidiin aiulau jefâ i^ttrdiim. I j' ROM whomsoe'cr I've sought for troth hut bitterest disdain I've seen ; W'home'er within this faithless world I've trusted, all most vain I've seen To whomsoe'cr I've told my woes, in hope to find some balm therefor, Than e'en myself o'erwhelmed and sunk in deeper, sadder pain I've seen. From out mine aching heart no one hath driven cruel grief away, That those my friends of pleasure's hour affection did but feign I've seen. Although I've clutched its mantle, life hath turned away its face from me ; And though I faith from mirror hoped, there persecuted swain I've seen. '■''^ At gate of hope I set my foot, bewilderment held forth its hand, Alas 1 whene'er hope's thread \'\q seized, in hand the serpent's train I've seen. A hundred times the Sphere hath shown to me \w\ darksome fortune's star; " Whene'er my horoscope I've cast, but blackest, deepest stain I've seen. Fuzûlî, blush not then, should I from mankind turn my face away : For why ? V\o\\\ all to whom I've looked, but reason sad to plain I've seen. ÎKEIBUOTHECA FRANC.DA3INGER F SHÂHİN GlRÂY Khun oj' the Crimen I.KenR ltT>i. Ct4S£d»v. Hjzvr.7. 65 X I'kom -İHI--. Samk. Z i: V d ' s \' i s i o n. Her latrAi (jiliridi tâzf mâteııı. T T IS grief and mourning Ze)d renewed ahvay. ■*■ ■*■ From hilier wailing ceased he not, he wci't aye. That foithful, loving, ever-constant friend dear, One night, when was the rise of the 'JVue Dawn near,'^" Feeling that in his wasted frame no strength stayed. Had gone, and down upon that grave himself laid. There, in his sleep, he saw a wondrous fair sight, A lovely garden, and \\\o beauties, moon-bright ; Through transport rapturous, their cheeks with light glow; Far distant now, all fear of anguish, ])ain, woe ; \\'ith ha])piness and ecstasy and joy blest, I'Vom rivals' persecutions these have found rest ; A thousand angel-forms to each fair beauty. With single heart, perform the servant's dut)-. He, wondering, rjuestion made : " What Moons so bright these } \N'hat lofty, honoured Sovereigns of miglit these ? \\'hat garden, most exalted, is this parterre ? What throng so bright and beautiful, the throng there ? " 66 fuzûli. They answer gave: "I,o! Eden's shining bowers these; That radiant throng, the Heaven-born Youths and Hfiris; "*' These two resplendent forms, bright as the fair moon, These are the ever-faithful— Levlî, MejnCn ! Since pure within the vale of love they sojourned, And kept that purity till they to dust turned, Are Eden's everlasting bowers their home now, To them the Hûrîs and the Youths as slaves bow : Since these, while on the earth, all woe resigned met, And patience aye before them in each grief set, When forth they fled from this false, faithless world's bound. From all those pangs and sorrows they release found ! " 67 FAZLÎ. 97» [1563] P'rom his Gul u Bulbul, "Rose anu Nightingale."''" Ki meger r/'izgar-i mazıda. /'~\NCK, in times long ago, in ages of eld, ^-^ Over bright realms, the fairest man e'er beheld, (These in Rome"^'^ lay) a King of fame ruled in state. Prosperous, glad, of joy and fortune innate ; He, a King, high of rank, of auspicious part. Fair of face, fair of nature, and fair of heart ; All his actions on justice sure did recline, All his beauty and spirit perfect did shine ; Pure of mind, debonair, in council aright, Heart-rejoicing, and graceful, the soul making bright, He, a glorious, stately, most noble King, Thus 'twas they named him, all his subjects : — King Spring. Through the stream of his justice the earth blossomed fair. Like to Eden the world through his mercy's air : With benignity, grace, and kindness imbued. With discretion and faultless justice endued : All around spread his sway like the wind thai blows, Everywhere swept his law like liie tlood that flows ; 68 ^■-^'^^^• Fair his equity e'en as the breeze of dawn, Making earth's face a verdant, fresh-blooming lawn. 'Midst of his blest dominions none uttered wail, Save it were 'mongst the flowers the sad nightingale : 'Gainst his neighbour did no one the dagger bare, Save the fresh blooming lily within the parterre ; "'''' To his neighbour did no one anguish impart. Saving the thorn to the nightingale's heart ^^'"^ From his neighbour did no one the diadem seize, The tulip's crown only, was stol'n by the breeze. Herbs, in mighty array, were spread o'er the ground. Forming a host without limit or bound ; Leaves and fruits did these bear in numbers untold, Even more than the leaves that the trees unfold. 'Midst of the mead narcissus-eyed guards did stand, Sentries, gold-uskufed, a numberless band ; *"^ Tulip-like, ruby-beakered and ruby-crowned. Many cup-bearers lovely did him surround ,; Guards, like the lily, a thousand he had, All of these sabre-wearing and armour-clad ; Like the cypress, uprearing proudly the head, Many warriors valiant his banners spread ; Like the thorn, sharp-featured, wielding the dart, His were spearsmen who"d pierce the dread lions heart Many couriers his, like the zephyr in speed. Like the crown-snatching life was each one indeed. In the heaven of mi^ht. a Star bright he beamed : FAZLI. 69 In the casket of state, a (Icin lair he gleamed. 'Midst his life's garden only une rose had blown, One divine gitt to him from (iod's lot'ty throne ; Him a daughter had granted the mercy divine, ^\'ho in earth's garden, like the rose, fair did shine; Though yet but a rosebud, her name was Rose — In the jiarterre of grace a rosebud arose ! Many rosebuds, a thousand rosebuds most fair. Heart-contracted, did envy her mouth in despair : Ne'er a rival to her in beauty was found, In her love was the world secure captive bound. N I s H A N J. 975 [1567] Gaze i.. Fenn-i ''ishija bashladiin^ diqqatla suydum uijt öâb. T BEGAN love's art to study, divers chapters did I read ; T-onging's texts and parting's sections, a whole book would fill indeed Union formed a short abridgment, but the pangs of love for thee Have their commentaries endless made each other to succeed. O NıSHÂNf, hath the master, Love, thus truly taught to thee: — " This a question hard whose answer from the loved one must proceed '. 71 SELİMİ. (SULTAN S t: L i M II.) 982 [1574] I Gazel. Khâlin İh zıı/fını rl bir cyUntish. T T AND in hand tlıy mole hatlı ı:)lotted with thy hair,'"'' Man)- hearts made captive have they in their snare. Thou in nature art an angel whom the Lord In His might the human form hath caused to wear. When He dealt out 'mongst His creatures union's tray, Absence from thee, God to me gave as my share. Thou would'st deem that Power, the limner, for thy [)rows, O'er the lights, thine eyes, two nuns had ])ainted fair.'"' O Sklîmî, on the sweetheart's cheek the down Is thy sighs' fume,''' which, alas, hath rested there. 72 SF.r/M/. ti O A Z I I,. /.,'vfî 'Ailfiui sihr-i i^inr.iiit \h/l u jiliihn ahiilar. " I ^A'EN my sense and soul have those thy Leyli locks, thy glance's spell, -*- Me, their Mejnûn, 'midst of love's wild dreary desert they impel.'** Since mine eyes have seen the beauty of the Joseph of thy grace, Sense and heart have fall'n and lingered in thy chin's sweet dimple-well."^ Heart and soul of mine are broken through my jjassion for thy lips ; l-'rom the hand of patience struck they honour's glass, to earth it fell. The mirage, thy lips, O sweetheart, that doth like to water show ; l''or, through longing, making thirsty, vainly they my life dispel. Since SelLmI hath the pearls, thy teeth, been praising, sense and heart Have his head and soul abandoned, plunging 'neath love's ocean-swell. SEI./MI. 7i III CJ A Z E L. Yuzundcn -jilfun sitr, kesJif-i hijâbet. ' I ^H\' veil raise, shake from cheeks those locks of thine then ■*■ Unclouded beauty's sun and moon bid shine then. But one glance from those soft and drooping eyes throw, The heart through joy to drunkenness consign then. AVere I thy lip to suck, 'twould heal the sick heart ; Be kind, an answer give. Physician mine, then. Beware lest evil glance thy beauty's rose smite, I'Vom ill -eyed rival careful it confine then. O heart, this is iJfc's Water 'midst of darkness,^"' In night's gloom hidden, drink the x\.\h\ wine then.-'^ My love's down grows upon her rosy-hued cheek, A book write on the woes it doth enshrine then.''^ Thy wine-hued lip, O love, grant to Selîmî, — And by th) parting's shaft my tears make wine then."*"^ 74 S H E M S I 1' A S H A. 988 [15S0J Gaze l. Iia(]Tl>in kû-yi yârinden }^i4zâri var, beuim yoq dur. '' I ^HE rival entry free hath to the loved one's ward, but none have I ; -*■ Regard unto the very dogs they there accord, but none have I. The heart doth seize the Magian's"" hand; the cup-bearer, his glass; but I — For gentle love they grant to these tlieir due reward, but none have I. To gain regard I would complain loud as the dogs within thy ward. For these have power their plight to show, their griefs record, but none have I. From all eternity have I to Mejnûn taught the pang of love,"^ How then do all the folk to him renown award, but none have I ? To God be praise that brightly shines the mirror of my heart, ShemsI, For more or less earth's glass with dust is soiled or marred, but none have I. 75 Y A H Y A BEG. 990 [1582] I From his Shah u Gedâ, " King and Beggar. " Sinucyle ey tilll-i s/ıTnıı-z/ıaıjâl. T)ARROT, sweet of voice, thy song now raise!"' ^ All thy words purify in Love's fierce blaze ! Every point of Love as whole book shows ; Every mote of Love as bright sun glows. Drowned in one drop thereof Time, Space, in sooth ; Lost in one grain thereof Both ^Vorlds, in truth. Man becomes man through Love, pure, bright, Teacher respected, guide of the right. Through its beams everything man as chief owns, Rays of sun into rubies turn black stones. ^*^ ****** He who a Lover is on God relies ; On, on, upward still doth he rise. One day he secrets all shall descry. Love makes the soul from sleep raise the eye ; Unto him all things shall oped be and shown. Off e'en the curtain from (iod shall be thrown. 76 M U K A I) I. (SULTAN M ika D III.) 1003 [1595] Gazel. LutJ-i Rnlımâna istiıtâd'nıı var. AT" E A, on God's favour all my trust I place : Ah ! how my soul desireth His dear grace Since Avith the Lord I have my heart made right, All of my hope upon His aid I base. I upon troops and treasures no faith lay; Nay, to the Hosts Unseen I leave my case.'* Bravely strive on, the Holy ^^'arfare fight ; P'irm, in God's cause to war, I've set my face. By Him, I trust, received my prayer may be : For, on accejitance I my ^hole hope place. 77 B A Q I. 1008 [1600] 1 QaIsda.'^ (In Praise ok Sultan Süleyman I.) Heugâm-i sheb ki kmii^ine'-i cherkh-i âşinân. /^~\NE night when all the battlements Heaven's castle duth displav, Illumed and decked were, with the shining lamps, the stars' array, Amidst the host of gleaming stars the .Moon lit up his torch : "^ Athwart the field of Heaven with radiance beamed the Milky Way. The Secretary of the Si)heres had ta'en his meteor-pen, That writer of His signature whom men and jinns obey. 'I'here, at the ban(iuel of the sky, had Venus struck her Ivre, In mirth and happiness, delighted, joyed and smiling gay. Taking the keynote for her tune 'neath in the vaulted sphere. The tambourinist Sun her visage bright had hid awa),'"' Armed with a brand of gleaming gold had leapt into the .yXxxw The Swordsman of the sky's expanse, of heaven's field of fray. 'I'd give direction to the weighty matters of the earth Had Jupiter, the wi^e, lit up rellection's taper's ray. There raised aloft old Saturn high upon the Se\enth Sphere Sitting like İndi. m elephant (ondiK tor i;n did strav.'"" 78 nÂQî. " Whal means this dctking of the universe?" I wondVing said; \\ hen, lo ! wiili meditation's gaze c"en wliilst I it survey, Casting its beams on every side, o'er all earth rose the Sun, O'er the h(jrizons, e'en as Seal of Suleymân's disjjlay.'"" The eye of understanding looked upon this wondrous sight ; At length the soul's ear learned the secret hid in this which lay : What is it that hath decked earth's hall with splendours such as this, Saving the might and fortune of the King who earth doth sway ? He who sits Jiigh upon the throne above all crowned kings, The Hero of the battlefield of dread Keyâni fray,'"'' Jemshid"^' of happiness and joy, Darius of the fight, Khusrev"^' of right and clemency, iskender''^ of his day ! Lord of the East and West! King whom the kings of earth obey! Prince of the Epoch ! Sultan Süleyman ! Triumphant Aye ! -Meet 'tis before the steed of yonder Monarch of the realms Of right and equity, should march earth's rulers' bright array. Rebelled one 'gainst his word, secure he'd bind him in his bonds. E'en like the dappled pard, the sky, chained with the Milky Way. Lord of the land of graciousness and bounty, on whose board Of favours, spread is all the wealth that sea and mine display ; Longs the perfumer, Early Spring, for th' odour of his grace ; Need hath the merchant. Autumn, of his bounteous hand alway.'"^ Through tyrant's hard oppression no one groaneth in his reign. And though may wail the flute and lute, the law they disobey. He^ide thy iu>ticc, lyrannx's the code of Key-Qubad ; '"" Beside thy wrath, but mildness Qahraman's most deadly fray.''' BÂQJ. 79 Thy srimitaı's ilıe ı:ilcanıing mıide emı»iıes to overthrow, No foe of Islam can ainde beû)re tliy sahre's ra\-. Saw it thy wrath, through dread of thee would trembling seize the pine; The falling stars a chain around the heaven's neck would lay. Amidst thy sea-like armies vast, thy flags and standards fair. The sails are which the ship of splendid triumph doth display. Thrust it its beak into the Sphere, 'twould seize it as a grain, The 'anqa strong, thy power, to which 'twere but a seed-like prey."* In ])ast eternity the hand, thy might, it struck with bat. That time is this time, for the Sky's Ball spins upon its way.'"* Within the rosy garden of thy praise the bird, the heart, Singeth this soul-bestowing, smooth-as-water-running lay If yonder mouth be not the soul, O heart-enslaver gay, Ihen wherefore is it like the soul, hid from our eyes away? Since in the casket of our mind thy ruby's picture lies," I'he mine is now no fitting home for gem of lustrous ray. Thy tresses fall across thy cheek in many a twisting curl, "To dance to Hijâz have the Shâmîs lucked their skirts," we'd say.'™ Let both the youthful pine and cypress view thy motions fair; The gardener now to rear the willow need .no more assay. *- The dark and cloud)- brained of men thine eyelnows black depict, While those of keen, discerning wit thy glistening teeth portray. Before thy cheek the rose and jasmine bowed in sujiid. The cypress to thy figure in c[iyâm did homage pay.'*" The heart's throne is the seat of that great monarch, love for ihce ; The soul, the secret court, where doth thy ruby'.-. pi( ture stay. 8o /.'.To/. TİK' radiance ot" tli\- hraut) lırİLihl liatli \]\\v(\ cnrtli like the sun, I'lic hall. /!f!.' and it is, rcsoniids with love of thcc for ayc.'^' 'I'he erics of those on plain of earth ha\e ri->en lo the skies, The shouts of those who dwell al)ove have found to earth tlieir wav. Nor can the nightingale with songs as sweet as BAijI's sing, Nor ha])py as thy star can beam the garden's bright array. The mead, the world, blooms through thy beauty's rose, like Irem's bower ;'"- On every side are nightingales of sweet, melodious lay. Now let us ]:)ra)- at Allah's court : " May this for aye endure, The might and glory of this prosjjered King's resjilendent sway ; Until the lamp, the world-illuming sun, at break of dawn, A silver candelabrum on the circling skies display,^*" Oh ! may the Ruler of the world with skirt of aid and grace Protect the ta|ier of his life from blast of doom, we pray!" Glory's the comrade ; Fortune, the cup-hearer at our feast ; The beaker is the Sphere : the bowl, the Steel of gold-inlay ! '■** BAqI. 8 i TT (1 AZE L. Mahabbat bn/in dir, ahim yelinden vir^j -ivuruy yashim. "T^IS love's wild sea, my sighs' fierce wind doth lash those waves my -*- tears uprear ; My head, the barque of sad despite; mine eyebrows twain, the anchors here. Mine unkempt hair, the den of yonder tiger dread, the fair one's love ; My head, dismay and sorrow's realm's deserted mountain-region drear. At whatsoever feast I drain the cup thy rubies' mem'ry to, Amidst all those who grace that feast, except the dregs, I've no friend near. Thou know'st, O Light of my poor eyes, with tütyâ mixed are gems full bright. What then if weep on thy path's dust mine eyes that scatter pearls most clear ! •*- The Sphere, old hag, with witchcraft's spell hath parted me from my fond love, O Bâqî, see, by God, how vile a trick yon jade hath played mc here ! 82 B^Q^'- III Gazel. Yular durur yolunda senin pâymâl dir. "XT'EARS trodden under foot have I lain on that path of thine ; -^ Thy musky locks are noose-like cast, around my feet to twine. O Princess mine ! boast not thyself through loveliness of face, For that, alas, is but a sun which must full soon decline ! The loved one's stature tall, her form as fair as juniper, ** Bright 'midst the rosy bowers of grace a slender tree doth shine. Her figure, fair-proportioned as my poesy sublime,'** Her slender waist is like its subtle thought — hard to divine.'** Then yearn not, BaqT, for the load of love's misfortune dire; For that to bear mayhap thy soul no power doth enshrine. BAQi. 83 IV Gazel. Sallanan nâıila ol sen -i semen-simâ mi dir? TT riTH her graceful-moving form, a Cypress jasmine-faced is she? Or in Eden's bower a branch upon the Lote or Tuba-tree?'^ That thy blood-stained shaft which rankles in my wounded breast, my love, In the rosebud hid a lovely rose-leaf, sweetheart, can it be?'*^ To the dead of pain of anguish doth its draught fresh life impart ; O cup-bearer, is the red wine Jesu's breath ? tell, tell to me ! '*' Are they teeth those in thy mouth, or on the rosebud drops of dew ? Are they sparkling stars, or are they gleaming pearls, that there I see? Through the many woes thou wreakest upon BAqi, sick of heart, Is"t thy will to slay him, or is it but sweet disdain in thee? BAQJ. V Gazel. Qaddin qatinda qdmet-i shUnshâd pest olur, 13 EFORE thy form, the box-tree's lissom figüre dwarfed would show ; ^- ^^ Those locks of thine the pride of ambergris would overthrow.'*^ AN^ho, seeing thy cheek's glow, recalls the ruby is deceived ; He who hath drunken deep of wine inebriate doth grow. Should she move forth with figure like the juniper in grace, The garden's cypress to the loved one's form must bend right low. Beware, give not the mirror bright to yonder paynim maid,*^ Lest she idolater become, when there her face doth show. Bâqî, doth he not drink the wine of obligation's grape. Who drunken with A-lcstii's cup's o'erwhclming draught doth go?'"'' BAQ/. 85 VI Gazel. 'Aricin
  • -i tıâb dir güya. '' I ^HY check, like limpid water, clear doth gleam; Thy pouting mouth a bubble round doth seem. The radiance of thy cheek's sun on the heart Like moonlight on the water's face doth beam. The heart's page, through the tracings of thy down,-' A volume all illumined one would deem. That fair Moon's sunny love the earth have burned. It warm as rays of summer sun doth stream. At woeful sorrow's feast my blood-shot eyes, Two beakers of red wine would one esteem. BAqI, her mole dark-hued like ambergris, A fragrant musk-pod all the world would deem. 86 BAQL VII Gazel. Dil deni-i 'ishq-i yâr ile bezm-i belâda dir. A LL sick ihe heart with love for her, sad at the feast of woe : '*■ ^ Bent form, the harp ; low wail, the fiute ; heart's blood for wine doth flow.'^ Prone lies the frame her path's dust 'neath, in union's stream the eye,'*^ In air the mind, the soul 'midst separation's fiery glow. O ever shall it be my lot, zone-like, thy waist to clasp ! Twixt us, O love, the dagger-blade of severance doth show ! Thou art the Queen of earth, thy cheeks are Towers of might, this day, Before thy Horse, like Pawns, the Kings of grace and beauty go.^^"* Him hinder not, beside thee let him creep, O Shade-like stay! Bâqİ, thy servant, O my Queen, before thee lieth low. PAQl. 87 VIII Gaze l. (On Autumn.) Nâm u uishâfie qalmaJi fasl-j bahârdeu. T O, ne'er a trace or sign of springtide's beauty doth remain ; — ' Fall'n 'midst the garden He the leaves, now all their glory vain. Bleak stand the orchard trees, all clad in tattered dervish rags ; Dark Autumn's blast hath torn away the hands from off the plane.*" From each hill-side they come and cast their gold low at the feet Of garden trees, as hoped the streams from these some boon to gain.'* Stay not within the parterre, let it tremble with its shame : Bare every shrub, this day doth nought or leaf or fruit retain. BaqI, within the garden lies full many a fallen leaf; Low lying there, it seems they 'gainst tlie winds of Fate complain. 88 BAQI. IX (i A Z E L. Lâle-khadkr qUdilar gnl-gesht-i sahra sfmt stmt. 'T^ULIP-CHEEKED ones over rosy field and plain stray all around ; -*" Mead and garden cross they, looking wistful each way, all around These the lovers true of radiant faces, aye, but who the fair? Lissom Cypress, thou it is whom eager seek they all around. Band on band Woe's legions camped before the City of the Heart, There, together leagued, sat Sorrow, Pain, Strife, Dismay, all around. From my weeping flows the river of my tears on every side, Like an ocean 'tis again, a sea that casts spray all around. Forth through all the Seven Climates have the words of BAqI gone; This refulu^ent verse recited shall be alway, all around. BAQI. 89 X Gazel. Jemâlin âfitâbinden olur uür, T^ROM thine own beauty's radiant sun doth Ught flow; ^ How lustrously doth now the crystal glass show ! Thy friend 's the beaker, and the cup 's thy comrade ; Like to the dregs why dost thou me aside throw ? Hearts longing for thy beauty can resist not ; Hold, none can bear the dazzling vision's bright glow ! United now the lover, and now parted ; This world is sometimes pleasure and sometimes woe. Bound in the spell of thy locks' chain is BAqi, Mad he, my Liege, and to the mad they grace show. N 90 BAQ/. XI Gazel. Peyâîe khusrez'-i milk-i gama tâj-i keyânî dir. 'HP^HE goblet as affliction's Khusrev's" bright Keyâni^'* crown doth shine; -■- And surely doth the wine-jar love's King's Khusrevani hoard enshrine. Whene'er the feast recalls Jemshid, down from its eyes the red blood rolls ; The rosy-tinted wine its tears, the beakers its blood-weeping eyne. At parting's banquet should the cup, the heart, with blood brim o'er, were't strange? A bowl that, to the fair we'll drain, a goblet filled full high with wine. O Moon, if by thy door one day the foe should sudden me o'ertake — A woe by Heaven decreed, a fate to which I must myself resign ! The fume of beauty's and of grace's censer is thy cheek's sweet mole, The smoke thereof thy musky locks that spreading fragrant curl and twine; Thy cheek rose-hued doth light its taper at the moon that shines most bright, Its candlestick at grace's feast is yonder collar fair of thine. Of love and passion is the lustrous sheen of BAqI's verse the cause ; As Life's Stream brightly this doth shine ; but that, th' Eternal Life Divine. BAQl. 91 XII Gaze l. Jâme-kh,âb ol âfeti aldiqja tenhâ qoynuna. T T THEN the sheets have yonder Torment to their bosom ta'en to rest,"' Think I : *' Hides the night-adorning Moon within the cloudlet's breast." In the dawning, O thou turtle, mourn not with those senseless plaints ; In the bosom of some stately cypress thou'rt a nightly guest. Why thou weepest from the heavens, never can I think, O dew; Every night some lovely rose's bosom fair thou enterest. Hath the pearl seen in the story of thy teeth its tale of shame, Since the sea hath hid the album of the shell within its breast? Longing for thy cheeks, hath BAqi all his bosom marked with scars. Like as though he'd cast of rose-leaves fresh a handful o'er his chest."* $â BAQf. XIII Terkîb-Bend, Elegy on Sultan Süleyman I. ^^ Ey pâ-yi-boıd-i dâm-geh-i qayd-i nâm tt nettg! /"^ THOU ! fool-bounden in the mesh of fame and glory's snare ! ^•^ Till when shall last the lust of faithless earth's pursuits and care ? At that first moment, which of life's fair springtide is the last, 'Tis need the tulip-cheek the tint of autumn leaf should wear; 'Tis need that thy last home should be, e'en like the dregs', the dust ; '" 'Tis need the stone from hand of Fate should be joy's beaker's share. ^^ He is a man indeed whose heart is as a mirror clear ; Man art thou ? why then doth thy breast the tiger's fierceness bear ? In understanding's eye how long shall heedless slumber bide ? Will not war's Lion-Monarch's fate suffice to make thee ware ? He, Prince of Fortune's Cavaliers ! he to whose charger bold,'®^ AVhene'er he caracoled or pranced, cramped was earth's tourney-square ! He, to the lustre of whose sword the Magyar bowed his head ! He, the dread gleaming of whose brand the Frank can well declare ! Like tender rose-leaf, gently laid he in the dust his face, And Earth, the Treasurer, him placed like jewel in his case. BAQl. 93 In truth, he was the radiance oi rank high and glory great, A Shah, Iskender-diademed, of Dârâ's armied state : -"*' Before the dust beneath his feet the Sphere bent low its head ; ^"' Earth's shrine of adoration was his royal pavilion's gate. The smallest of his gifts the meanest beggar made a prince ; Exceeding bounteous, exceeding kind a Potentate ! The court of glory of his kingly majesty most high Was aye the centre where would hopes of sage and poet wait. Although he yielded to Eternal Destiny's command, A King was he in might as Doom and puissant as Fate ! Weary and worn by this sad, changeful Sphere, deem not thou him : Near God to be, did he his rank and glory abdicate. What wonder if our eyes no more life and the world behold ! His beauty fair, as sun and moon, did earth irradiate ! If folk upon the bright sun look, with tears are filled their eyes ; For seeing it, doth yon moon-face before their minds arise I^""- Now let the cloud blood drop on drop weep, and its form bend low ! And let the Judas-tree anew in blossoms gore-hued blow ! ^ With this sad anguish let the stars' eyes rain down bitter tears ! And let the smoke from hearts on fire the heavens all darkened show ! '^' Their azure garments let the skies change into deepest black ! Let the whole world attire itself in robes of princely woe ! In breasts of fairies and of men still let the flame burn on — Of parting from the blest King Süleyman the fiery glow ! '"'' His home above the Highest Heaven's ramparts he hath made : This world was all unworthy of his majesty, 1 trow. 94 BAQl. The bird, his soul, haih, hunia-Ukc, aloft flown to the skies,^ And nought reniaineth save a few bones on the earth below. The speeding Horseman of the plain of Time and Space was he ; Fortune and Fame aye as his friends and bridle-guides did go. The wayward courser, cruel Fate, was wild and fierce of pace, And fell to earth the Shade of God the Lord's benignant Grace. Through grief for thee, bereft of rest and tearful e'en as I, Sore weeping let the cloud of spring go wand'ring through the sky ! And let the wailing of the birds of dawn the whole world fill ! Be roses torn ! and let the nightingale distressful cry ! Their hyacinths as weeds of woe displaying, let them weep, Down o'er their skirts their flowing tears-**'* let pour — the mountains high! The odour of thy kindliness recalling, tulip-like. Within the Tatar musk-deer's heart let fire of anguish lie ! ^ Through yearning for thee let the rose its ear lay on the path,^' And, narcisse-like, till the Last Day the watchman's calling ply ! Although the pearl-diffusing eye to oceans turned the world, Ne'er into being should there come a pearl with thee to vie ! O heart ! this hour 'tis thou that sympathiser art with me ; Come, let us like the flute bewail, and moan, and plaintive sigh 1 The notes of mourning and of dole aloud let us rehearse ; And let all those who grieve be moved by this our seven-fold verse.^ Will earth's King ne'er awake from sleep ? — broke hath the dawn of day : Will ne'er he move forth from his tent, adorned as Heaven's display? Long have our eyes dwelt on the road, and yet no news hath come From yonder land, the threshold of his majesty's array : ^ BAQI. 95 The colour of his check hath paled, dry-lipi)ed he lieth there, E'en like that rose which from the vase of flowers hath fall'n away. Goes now the Khusrev of the skies -*^* behind the cloudy veil, For shame, remembering thy love and kindness, one would say. My prayer is ever : " May the babes, his tears, go 'neath the sod. Or old or young be he who weeps not thee in sad dismay.'"''^ With flame of parting from thee let the sun burn and consume; And o'er the wastes through grief let darkness of the clouds hold sway. Thy talents and thy feats let it recall and weep in blood, Yea, let thy sabre from its sheath plunge in the darksome clay. Its collar, through its grief and anguish, let the reed-pen tear ! And let the earth its vestment rend through sorrow and despair ! Thy sabre made the foe the anguish dire of wounds to drain ; Their tongues arc silenced, none who dares to gainsay doth remain. The youthful cypress, head-exalted, looked upon thy lance, And ne'er its lissom twigs their haughty airs displayed again. Where'er thy stately charger placed his hoof, from far and near Flocked nobles, all upon thy path their lives to offer fain. In desert of mortality the bird, desire, rests ne'er; Thy sword in cause of God did lives as sacrifice ordain. As sweeps a scimitar, across earth's face on every side. Of iron-girded heroes of the world thou threw'st a chain. Thou took'st a thousand idol-temples, turnedst all to mosques ; Where jangled bells thou mad'st be sung the Call to Prayers' strain. At length is struck the signal-drum, and thou hast journeyed hence ; Lo ! thy first resting-place is Eden's flowery, verdant j^lain. 96 /'V/C/- Praise is to God ! for He in the Two Worlds hath l)lessed thee, And caused thy L^lorious name, /fern and Afar/yr both to be."''' BaqI, the beauty of the King, the heart's dcUght, behold ! -" The mirror of the work of Ood, the Lord of Right, behold ! The dear old man hath passed away from th' Egypt sad, the world ; The youthful Prince, alert and fair as Joseph bright, behold ! The Sun hath risen, and the Dawning grey hath touched its bourne; The lovely face of yon Khusrev,®"' whose soul is light, behold ! This chace now to the grave hath sent the Behrâm of the Age ; Go, at his threshold serve, King Erdeshir aright, behold ! ^^^ The blast of Fate to all the winds hath blown Suleymân's throne -^^ Sultan Selim Khân on Iskender's '' couch of might, behold ! The Tiger of tlie mount of war to rest in sleep hath gone ; The 1 .ioii who doth now keep watch on glory's height, behold ! The Peacock fair of Eden's mead hath soared to Heaven's parterre;-" The lustre of tlie Huma of high, happy flight, behold ! Eternal may the glory of the heaven-high Khusrev dwell ! Blessings be on the Monarch's soul and spirit : — and farewell ! 97 'A D L î. . (SULTAN Ml' HAMMED III.) IOI2 [1603] ( i A Z E L. Viv/ d/ir/ir zulma ri-.drniz ^adla Hz maillenz. /"^RUEL tyranny we love not, nay, to justice we incline; ^"-^ Full contentedly our eyes wait for the blest command divine. Know we truly, for a mirror, world-reflecting, is our heart ; Vet conceive not us to Fortune's ever-changeful ways su]Mne. To the rule of God submissive, all concern we cast aside ; We indeed on Him confiding, on His providence recline. Shall our heart anoint its eye then with the kuhl of Isfahan?*^ Pleased it with this tûtyâ : dust that doth the Fair One's pathway line.^'- Since our heart, 'Adlî, within Love's crucible was purified, 'Midst the universe, from guile and guilt free, bright our soul doth shine. 9S V, A K H T I (SULTAN A II M E D I.) 1026 [1617] Gazel. Bu}' ersa jân meshâmmina fasl-i bahârden. /'~\ THAT a fragrant breath might reach the soul from early spring ! ^-^ O that with warbling sweet of birds the groves once more might ring! O that in melody the songs anew might rose-like swell ! That fresh in grace and voice the nightingale be heard to sing! O that the New Year's Day were come, when, minding times gone by,'-'^ Should each and all from Time and Fate demand their reckoning ! In short, O BakhtI, would the early vernal days were here, Then, 'midst the mead, ne'er should we part from brink of limpid spring. 99 F A R I S 1. ( S U LT A N 'O S M A N I I. ) 1031 [1622] Ci A Z E L. Gurdtii^uin i^ibi sciti oldu ^itiiiil dwara. Ç2 OON as I beheld thee, mazed and wildered grew my sad heart ; ^^~^ How shall I my love disclose to thee who tyrant dread art ? How shall I hold straight upon my road, when yonder Torment Smitten hath my breast with deadly wounds by her eyelash-darl ? Face, a rose ; and mouth, a rosebud ; form, a slender sapling — How shall I not be the slave of Princess such as thou art? Ne'er hath heart a beauty seen like her of graceful figure ; Joyous would I for yon charmer's eyebrow with my life part. PWrisI, what can I do but love that peerless beauty? Ah ! this aged Sphere hath made me lover of yon sweetheart. 'ATÂ'Î. 1045 Lı^35] Müseddes. Âh kim ihlalim pcynıâıte ı^ibi doldu khûn. A H ! that once again my heart with blood is filled, like beaker, high ; -^ ^ At the feast of parting from my love I fell, and prostrate lie ; O'er this wildered heart the gloom of frenzy, conquering, doth fly ; In the valley of distraction ne'er a guide can I descry. Heedless mistress ! loveless Fortune ! ever-shifting, restless sky ! "* Sorrows many ! friends not any ! strong-starred foeman ! feeble I 1 In the land of exile loomed dark on one side the night of woe, Nowhere o'er me did the lustrous moon of beauty's heaven glow ; Yonder glared the Two Infortunes,'*^ sank my heljjing planet low ; Here did fortune, there did gladness, i)arting from me, distant go. Heedless mistress ! loveless Fortune ! ever-shifting, restless sky ! Sorrows many ! friends not any ! strong-starred foeman ! feeble I ! Strange is't if the nightingale, my heart, in thousand notes doth wai! ? Fate to i)art it from the rosebud, the beloved, did i)revail : 'yj TA' I. lo Whilst Tnı on the thorn of anguish, rivals with my love regale : Why recite my woes, O comrades ? space were none to tell their tale ! Heedless mistress ! loveless Fortune ! ever-shifting, restless sky ! Sorrows many ! friends not any ! strong-starred foeman ! feeble I 1 E'en a moment at the feast of woes from tears can I retrain ? How shall not the wine, my tears, down rolling, all my vestment stain ? Can it be with e'en one breath I should not like the reed complain ? Sad, confused, like end of banquet,-'' why then should not I remain ? Heedless mistress ! loveless Fortune ! ever-shifting, restless sky ! Sorrows many ! friends not any ! strong-starred foeman ! feeble I ! Yonder Princess, though I served her, pitiless drave me away, Vanished mc far from her city, sent me from her court's array: \Vhen I i)arted from her tresses, black the world before me lay; Helpless 'midst the darkness did I, like unto 'Atâ'î, stray. Heedless mistress ! loveless Fortune 1 ever-shifting, restless sky ! Sorrows many ! Iriends not any ! strong-starred foeman ! feeble I ! NEF'l. 1045 [1635I G A z e[l. ^Arij ol, ehl-i dil ol, rind qalender-meshreb oL T^ E thou wise and thoughtful, e'en as qalender in mind be free;*'* ^^ Nor a faitliless, graceless paynim, nor a bigot INIuslim be. Be not vain of wisdom, though thou be the Plato of the age;-" Be a school-child when a learned man and righteous thou dost sea Like the world-adorning sun, rub thou thy face low 'midst the dust; Over^vhelm earth with thy planet, yet without a planet be.-'® Fret not after Khizar, rather go, and, like to NefTs heart, At the channel of Life's Stream of grace drink full contentedly,*' 103 HAFIZ PASHA. (GRAND VEZİR.) 1041 [1632J Gazel.'"' To Sultan Murâd IV, Aidi etrâfi ^adtiT iııuiâJa 'asker yoq-mi-dir ? T~) OUND US foes throng, host to aid us here in sad plight, is there -*■ ^ none ? In the cause of God to combat, chief of tried miglit, is there none? None who will checkmate the foe, Castle to Castle, face to face ? In the battle who will Queen-like guide the brave Knight, is there none?"" Midst a feartul whirlpool we are fallen helpless, send us aid ! Us to rescue, a strong swimmer in our friends' sight, is there none ? Midst the fight to be our comrade, head to give or heads to take. On the field of earth a hero of renown bright, is there none ? Know we not wherefore in turning off our woes ye thus delay ; 1 )ay of Reckoning, aye, and cjuestion of the poor's plight, is there none ? With us 'midst the foeman's flaming streams of scorching fire to plunge, Salamander with experience of Fate dight, is there none ? This our letter, to the court of Sultan Murâd, quick to bear. Pigeon, rapid as the storm-wind in its swift flight, i'^ tiicrc none? I04 M U R  T) î. (SULTAN M U R A D I V. ) 1049 [1640] I (1 A Z E L. I.\ Reply to the Preceding. Hâfizâ, Bagdâda imdâd etmeğe er yoq-mi-dir? 'T^O relieve Bagdad, O Hâfiz, man of tried might, is there none? •*■ Aid from us thou seek'st, then with thee host of fame bright, is there none ? "I'm the Queen the foe who'll checkmate," thus it was that thou didst say; Room for action now against him with the brave Knight, is there none? Though we know thou hast no rival in vain-glorious, empty boasts, Yet to take dread vengeance on thee, say, a Judge right, is there none ? Whilst thou layest claim to manhood, whence this cowardice of thine ? Thou art frightened, yet beside thee fearing no fight, is there none? Heedless of thy duty thou, the Râfizis have ta'en Bagdad;'"^ Shall not God thy foe be? Day of Reckoning, sure, right, is there none? They have wrecked Ebû-Hanifa's city through thy lack of care ; "- O in thee of Islam's and the Prophet's zeal, light, is there none? MTRÂnJ. 105 God, who favoured us, whilst yet we knew not, with the Sultanate, Shall again accord Bagdad, decreed of (lod's might, is there none? Thou hast brought on Islam's army direful ruin with thy bribes; Have we not heard how thou say'st : " A\'ord of this foul blight, is there none ? " With the aid of God, fell vengeance on the enemy to take. By me skilled and aged vezir, pious, zeal-dight, is there none? Now shall I appoint commander a vezir of high emprize, Will not Khizar ''■' and the Prophet aid him ? guide right, is there none ? Is it that thou dost the whole world void and empty now conceive ? Of the Seven Climes," MurâdT. King of high might, is there none? io6 MURADI. II L U G A Z.-~ Bir qal'u'i mu^allaq ichivda oldu derya. '' I "^HERE'S an o'erhanging castle in which there flows a main, -■- And there within that castle a fish its home hath ta'en ; The fish within its mouth doth hold a shining gem, Which wastes the fish as long as it therein doth remain. This puzzle to the poets is offered by Murâd ; Let him reply who ofifice or place desires to gain. 107 'AZİZ I. 1050 [1641 ca.'] From his Shehr-engîz.*''' Sachli Zemân. (Fortune the Long-haired.) '^EMÂN the Long-haired, 'midst these lovely ones see, ^"^ A wayward, wanton Torment of the world she.*-^ Like Fortune, she nor clemency nor grace knows ; The number of her hairs her lovers' tale shows. The tribute from the realm of hearts her curls bore, Seduced me have these locks that hang her neck o'er. JiHÂN BÂNtj. (Lady World.) O HE whom they call Jihan 's a damsel moon-faced, *^ Who, like the World, is faithless, and doth hearts waste. Save faithlessness, though comes not from the World aught; The heart from that love of the soul can pass not. Let but her mind contented be with poor mc, Then may the World divorced from mc for aye be. loS 'AZ İZ J. La'l-Pâra. (Rufjv-CHir.) T A'L-PARA as her name doih one of these own, — ' A girl whose heart is hard as is the flint-slune. Her mouth in very truth 's a ruby bright red, Her teeth are pearls, so too the words by her said. Strange were it, if my heart be by her love slaved ? For sooth her rubies bear the "coral-prayer" graved.'-'-^ Aq-'Ale.m. (White Universe.) A ND Aq-'Alem they one of yonder maids call, For her the moon of heaven acteth jackal. Is't strange if through her loveliness she famed be ? A white Rose on the earth is yonder Hürî. He who with that bright Moon as friend goes, A universe enjoys more fair than earth shows. log N A'l LI. 1077 [1666] Müseddes. Firâshim setii^-i khârâ, pûshishinı s/iei'k-i qatad olsun ! \\ E mine for dress, the piercing ihorn 1 "'' be mine for couch, the hard, -*-^ hard stone ! Be mine for home, grief's cot ! be mine for bread, woe's tears ! fur work, pain's moan ! Be all my bleeding frame with wounds uf cruel focmans hatred sown ! Be these rejoiced in heart and gay who make my grieving soul to groan ! Be all those glad by whom my aching heart is tortured and o'erthrown 1 Be those blest with their wish who say of me : '' Be all his hopes cast prone ! " Unfaithfulness is aye the rule which guides the Sphere that loves to pain, The inborn nature of the Skies is but to manifest disdain ; "^ Within the breasts of those who pleasure seek there lurks some yearning vain ; O heart, blest is the practice of the thought enshrined in this refrain : Be all those glad by whom my aching heart is tortured and o'erihrown! Be those blest with their wi'^h who say of me : " He all his hopes cast prone ' '' ,,o NÂ'llJ. When time is past, rejoiced shall swell the hearts of all my comrades dear; And through their cruelty — my choice — my foes shall mourn in sorrow drear. Let all those learn this verse of me who hap to come my pathway near, And let them from the tongues of that green sward which decks my grave this hear : Be all those glad by whom my aching heart is tortured and o'erthrown ! Be those blcsl with their wish who say of me : " Be all his hopes cast prone ! " Within this hostel of the world my portion is the tray of dole ; My eye, the birthplace of the flame, refuseth health's most pleasant stole ; Fatigue, the rest of my sad heart ; anguish, the present to my soul ; Ne'er through Eternity to gain my longing is my longing's goal. Be all those glad by whom my aching heart is tortured and o'erthrown ! Be those blest with their wish who say of me : " Be all his hopes cast prone ! " O Nâ'ilî, is't possible to change or alter Fate's decree ? Annulled can ever be the edict writ by pen of Destiny? My heart is gladdened with this thought, that ne'er an hour's delay can be In whetting keen and sharp that axe of pain which rust can never see. Be all those glad by whom my aching heart is tortured and o'erthrown ! Be those blest with their wish who say of me : " Be all his hopes cast prone ! " s I D o î 1115 [1703] i'ı .\ZE L. IVıîsil-i H-Uâh olmılar gayri i/ısâıt isteme:, T T E who union with the Lord gains, more delight desireth not ! He who looks on charms of fair one, other sight desireth not. Fang of love is lover's solace, eagerly he seeks there-for, Joys he in it, balm or salve for yonder blight, desireth not. Paradise he longs not after, nor doth aught beside regard ; Bower and Garden, Mead, and Youth, and Hfiri bright, desireth not.'®"^ From the hand of Power Unbounded draincth he the ^^'ine of Life, Aye inebriate with Knowledge, learning's light, desireth not. He who loves the Lord is monarch of an empire, such that he — King of Inward Mysteries — Suleymcân's might, desireth not."* Thou art Sultan of my heart, aye. Soul of my soul e'en art Thou ; Thou art Soul enow, and SinoT other plight desireth not. 112 I Q B  L Î. (SULTAN MUSTAFA II.) 1115 [1703] M U N A J  T."' Allah! Rnlili-i lâ-j-ez<âl, yâ Wahid, j-â Zu-'l-Jelâl ! A LLAH ! Lord who /iT'sf for aye! O Sole.' King of Glory s Ray ! Monarch who ne'er shalt pass away! shoiv Thou to us Thy bounties fair. In early morning shall our cry, our wail, mount to Thy Throne on high : " Error and sin our wont," we sigh : show Thou to us Thy bounties fair. If Cometh not from Thee Thy grace, evil shall all our works deface ; O Lord of Being and of Space ! shozv Thou to us Thy bounties fair. Creator of security! to Thy Beloved greetings be!"^ These words are in sincerity : shoic Thou to us Thy bounties fair. IqbalI sinned hath indeed, yet unto him Thy grace concede; Eternal, Answerer iii need ! shozc Thou to us Thv bounties fair. N A B I . 1 124 [1712] I M U K H A M M E S. Bu gülistanda benim ichin ne gıd ne shebnem var. A LAS ! nor dew nor smiling rose within this mead is mine ; Within this market-place nor trade nor coin for need is mine ; Nor more nor less ; nor power nor strength for act or deed is mine ; Nor might nor eminence ; nor balm the cure to speed is mine. O that I knew what here I am, that which indeed is mine ! Being 's the bounty of the Lord ; and Life, the gift Divine ; The Breath, the present of His Love ; and Speech His Grace's sign : The Body is the pile of God ; the Soul, His Breath benign ; The Powers thereof, His Glory's trust ; the Senses, His design. O that I knew what here I am, that which indeed is mine ! No work, no business of my own within this mart have I ; All Being is of Him alone — no life a])art have I ; No choice of entering this world, or hence of start have I ; To cry : "I am ! I am ! " in truth, no power of heart have L O that I knew what here I am, that which indeed is mine ! 114 NAni. The Earth the carpet is of Power ; the Sphere, the tent of Might The Stars, both fixed and wandering, are Glory's lamps of light : The World 's the issue of the grace of Mercy's treasures bright : With Forms of beings is the page of Wisdom's volume dight. O that I knew what here I am, that which indeed is mine '. Being is but a loan to us, and Life in trust we hold : In slaves a claim to Power 's pretension arrogant and bold ; The servant's part is by submission and obedience told ; Should He : " My slave " address to me, 'twere favours manifold. O that I knew what here I am, that which indeed is mine! I'm poor and empty-handed, but grace free is of the Lord ; Nonentity 's my attribute : to Be is of the Lord ; For Being or Non-being's rise, decree is of the Lord ; The surging of the Seen and Unseen's sea is of the Lord. O that I knew what here I am, that which indeed is mine ' Of gifts from table of His Bounty is my daily bread ; My breath is from the Breath of God's benignant Mercy fed ; My portion from the favours of Almighty Power is shed; And my provision is from Providence's kitchen spread. O that I knew what here I am, that which indeed is mine ' I cannot, unallotted, take my share from wet or dry; From land or from the ocean, from earth or from the sky : The silver or the gold will come, by Providence laid by; I cannot grasp aught other than my fortune doth supply. O that I knew what here I am, that which indeed is mine ! NÂB'f. Creation's Pen the lines of billows of events hath traced ; Th' illumined scroll of the Two Worlds, Creation's Pencil graced ; Their garments upon earth and sky, Creation's woof hath placed ; Men's forms are pictures in Creation's great Shâh-Nâma traced."* O that I knew what here I am, that which indeed is mine ! I cannot make the morning eve, or the dark night the day; I cannot turn the air to fire, or dust to water's spray ; I cannot bid the Sphere stand still, or mountain-region stray; I cannot Autumn turn by will of mine to lovely May. O that I knew what here I am, that which indeed is mine ! From out of Nothingness His mighty Power made me appear; Whilst in the womb I lay, saw He to all I need for here; With kindnesses concealed and manifest did He me rear ; With me He drew a curtain o'er Distinction's beauty dear. O that I knew what here I am, that which indeed is mine ! God's Revelation is Discernment's Eye, if 't oped remain ; The picturings of worlds are all things changing aye amain ; The showing of the Hidden Treasure is this raging main, This work, this business of the Lord, this Majesty made plain. O that I knew what here I am, that which indeed is mine ! Now void, now full, are Possibility's store-houses vast ; This glass-lined world's the mirror where Lights Twain their phases cast; The blinded thing — in scattering strange fruits its hours are past ; Ruined hath this old Vineyard been by autumn's sullen blast. O that I knew what here I am, that which indeed is mine I ns 5» Ii6 ^ÂBI. II Gazel. Âshiyâtı-i 'andeltb-i zara bir sû qalmainish. "NT E 'ER a corner for the plaintive bulbul's nest remaineth now; ^ Ne'er a palm-tree 'neath whose kindly shade is rest remaineth now. Day and night some balm I've sought for, to relieve my wounded heart ; Ne'er a cure within the Heavens' turquoise chest remaineth now. From its source, through every country, searched have I, but all in vain — Ne'er a single drop, in mercy's fountain blest, remaineth now. Empty earthen pots are reckoned one with jewels rich and rare ; Ne'er a scale in value's mart the worth to test remaineth now. 'Neath the earth may now the needy hide themselves, Nâbî, away : Ne'er a turret on the fort of interest remaineth now. 117 'A R I F. 1125 [1713] I M U N  J  T. Vd Jiabb, ne intiha sana zahir m ibtidâ.^ /''~\ LORD, to Thee is never a beginning, neither end ; ^^ Thy mercy's ocean, limitless, doth over all extend. E'en though the value-weighing hand of Thine unbounded might Hath wrought astounding marvels that all numbering transcend, Yet, Lord, Thou formedst Adam t'n the best of symmetry ; ^ Thou worthy of Thy grace to make this folk didst condescend. Unfathomed and unsounded lies Thy mercy's ocean vast, Which truly hath made earth beneath its surging waves descend : O Lord, could any hurt or harm befall that shoreless deep. Did Thou a single drop therefrom to this Thy servant send? Since 'Arif owns a Master kind in graciousness like Thee, O Lord, before another's door were 't right for him to bend ? O Lord, thus ever doth in joy Thy blest device appear — Thy greatest glory from the works of vileness Thou dost rear ! n8 *ÂR2F. II Gazel. Derün-i sîneya mihr-i ıttkhun tdb-e/ken olmusk dur. 'T'^HE sun of love for thy fair cheek the heart's core floods with -*• radiant light ; The soul's most secret court is filled with dazzling rays at thy sweet sight. With union's joys though blest one be, or though with pangs of absence torn, Are still sad wail and plaintive cry the e'er-true signs of lovelorn plight. Then welcome, O. thou gentlest breeze, that bcar'st to him who dwells midst woe, As news from yonder absent maid the sweet scent of her garment white. Of gilded halls no need in sooth to libertines when wine flows free ; Some ruined den beseems them more, like Jemshid's hut of woeful site.*® The sparks raised by my passioned sighs' and plainings' smoke are each one quenched ; For every tear that rolleth down upon my robe 's a rich pearl bright. O 'ÂRIF ! this poor captive bird hath grown to love th' entangling snare; For curling locks to careworn hearts afford a refuge sure from fright. '.lAVJ^. 119 III Müseddes. Vedâ'iyya. (Farewell Poem.) A! Sa/d, 'asm edip aidin dil-i nâlâni bile. \ H, my Joy ! thou'rt gone, and my sad weeping heart hast borne indeed. And my breast by bitter parting's raging fires all worn indeed ; Grief for thee in hundred pieces liath my raiment torn indeed ; Be thy escort on the journey tears I weep, forlorn indeed. Thou art gone, and longing for thee makes my heart to mourn indeed ; Without thee, banquets where friends meet, all I have forsworn indeed. Wheresoe'er thy footsteps wander, be the aid of God thy guide ; As the pilot to thy wishes be His grace aye at thy side ; Shadow for thy crown of glory may the huma's wing provide i'^^ Ah ! may ever joyous, happy fortune on thy path abide. Thou art gone, and longing for thee makes my heart to mourn indeed; Without thee, banquets where friends meet, alh I have forsworn indeed. O thou Source of joy and quiet unto my poor grieving breast ! Hence for ever I with separation's fires am sore opprest ; Thou, Crown of my joy I my Treasure ! mercy show to me distrest ! Now, my Lord, to whom shall Master's title be by mc addrest ? Thou art gone, and longing for thee makes my heart to mourn indeed : Without thee, banouots where friends meet, all I h.\\c forsworn indeed. I20 './/•//=". Va-ct in thv rourt of servire may th' inconstant Heavens' be I I am fallen, soul and body, to woe's depths by their decree ; From a kindly master like thee, merciless, they've sundered me ; And into the dreary vale of exile have they driven thee. Thou art gone, and longing for thee makes my heart to mourn indeed ; Without thee, banquets where friends meet, all I have forsworn indeed. Though I'm far now from the shadow of thy love, O Cypress straight, Still my prayers I may offer for thy happiness of state. Think at times upon thy servant *Ârif sitting desolate ; Him from near thy skirt of kindness taken hath his darksome fate. Thou art gone, and longing for thee makes my heart to mourn indeed; Without thee, banquets where friends meet, all I have forsworn indeed. 121 NRDÎ M. 1 1 40 [1727 aı.] fi A 7. K L. '/'iih.irnntul Diilkiui y>!fı/in //ı'!ı'ii;!İ Klu'm mi fi//. Kâfir ? 'T^HE realm of patience thou'st laid waste, llelâi^û-''^ hiyht art thou, ^ Paynim ? '"* O mercy ! thou'st the world consumed, a blazing light art thou, I'aynim ? A maiden's grace, is that thy grace, a con(iucring hero's voice, thy voice ; 'I'hou Woe, I know not, maid or youthful lord of might art thou, Paynim ? What mean those hidden, secret sighs, and tears, and saddest grievings, pray ? The wailing lover of some wanton gay and bright, art thou, Paynim ? Why on the jiolished mirror dost thou thus so frequent cast thine eyes? Bewildered and distraught at thine own beauty's sight art thou, Paynim? Pve heard that poor Nedîm hath been by cruel Paynim captive la'en — That fierce oppressor of the Faith, and foe of right, art thou. Paynim ? s A 15 () A 'J' i. ( S r I. T A N M A II M r I) r.) T ı6S (1754] G A / ','. L. Kerem-b ıklısh o'mıaz, ey dil, hâlini Jâ mı un S!/7ivyl('s:ıı. /'~\ HEART ! e'en though thou tell'st thy woes, yon maid will ne'er ^-^ comjiassion deign : When constancy and troth thou seek'st, dost thou address the barren plain? The student of the course of tyranny is yonder wanton wild ; To look for faith or grace from her who enmity desires is vain. That paynim glance doth hold in hand a dagger sharp of point and keen; And yet, O babe, my heart, thou dost to thousands sing her praises' strain. In hope that it would yield the soul a breath of favour's odour sweet. How yonder rosebud-mouth eftaceth all, thou dost thereto exjjlain. O SabqatI, what wondrous science hath thy magic talent learnt, That thou right royally inditest every joyous, glad refrain ? I 123 B E L I G. ijyo [1756 ca.'\ I Gazel. 01 al Jes kâkül uzre berg-i gul dm sunbiil ustutta. \ ROSE-LEAF o'er the spikenard fall'n — the red fcs lies on her daik The perspiration studs her cheeks — the dew-drops which the roses wear."" Since mirrored in th' o'erflowing bowl did yon cup-bearer's chin beam bright, My eyes were fixed upon that wine, like bubbles which that wine did bear. Behold thou, then, her braided locks, as musk, all dark and sweet perfumed ; Like ambergris, her tresses shed abroad an odour rich and rare. Those who set forth on Mystic Path behind soon leave the earth-liurn love; The Bridge, as home, within this world of ours, no man hath taken e'cr.'^' Now, O Belig, that steed, thy r<'f(l, doth caracole across this page ; I'hy finger-points, the Haydcr bold whom that nukiiil doth onward bear.""* 124 BELlG. II Cj A Z E L. On a Dancing-Girl. El aldiqja o chengi güzeli chdrpâra. T T 7 HEN that beauty of a dancing-girl her castanets hath tacn, ' ^ Should the sun and moon behold her, jealous, each were rent in twain. Patience from my soul is banished when beginneth she to dance; Leaps with her my heart; my eyesight, faltering, is like to wane. When the moon looks down upon her, must it not be seared of heart? Yonder moon-fair one her crimson skirt for halo bright hath ta'en. In her motions and her pausings what varieties of grace ! While her lovely frame doth tremble, like to quicksilver, amain ! ^ Full delighted at her motions, loud as thunder roars the drum ; Beats its breast the tambourine, its bells commence to mourn and plain. When she cometh, like a fairy, begging money from the crowd, In her tambourine, had one a hundred lives, he'd cast them fain. Deck her out on gala-days, and take her by the hand, Belîg ; Yonder spark-like Idol hath consumed my soul with fiery pain.*^" 125 s  M î. 1170 [1756 ca.] I Gazel. Mn'j-khız oldu yene cshk-i terim seyl gibi. O URGE in waves nıy streaming tears, e'en like a rushing flood, once mo ?>oni their smallest drop, the sources of a hundred Niles would flow. Overwhelm the raging billows of my tears the heart's frail barque, Though the mem'ry of her cheek, like to the beacon, radiance throw. What my pen writes down appeareth, in the eyes of brutish men, Like the needle to the blinded, of discerning clear the foe.'''** One the beggar's bowl would be with the tiara of the King, Were it but reversed, for then like to the royal crown "twould show.'-' Though it be coarse as a rush-mat, is that soul the seat of grace, Which doth, like the wattle-basket, freely bread to guests bestow. " Yonder hair-waist I encircled," did the braggart rival say ; But her waist exists not — hair-like slight his boasting's truth doth show.-*" O thou vain one ! see, what anguish to the head of Nimrod brought Was by one gnat's sting, which like to trunk of elephant did grow.-*' Sâmî, it is thy intention to compare to Heaven's bowers These thy distichs eight, with shining flowers of rhetoric ihal glow.-" ia6 SÂMl II F R A G M E N T. Medh-i Kcvserle gunul sanma dusker memula. '' I "^HINK not that with Kevser's praises hearts become of joy full;'^ ^ Preacher, rather doth the tale of mouth and kiss the soul rule. Thinking of her rubies red, whene'er I drink tobacco, The nargila 's a flask of wine, the pipe-bowl is a sumbul.*'*^ Know how holy is her land : — who dwclleth in Edirna, Ere he to the Ka'ba bends, doth turn him to Istambul.''^ 127 N xNEV-RES. 1 175 [1761 ca.] Ci A Z E L, Devr-i hiHinda bash egmem hâıif'-i gul-fânıa ben. T EAR thy rubies, ne'er I bow my head to wine of rosy hue ; "* 'Neath the shadow of the Magian j)riest, I ne'er the glass eschew.-' Now it makes me exile's prisoner, now the comrade close of ])ain — What to do I know not, what with this sad fate of mine to do ! E'en the Home of Peace it turneth to the cot of woe for me. Through the longing for thy dusky mole, when Sham I journey through.-'" Since 'tis needful midst the peo])le that I still reside and move, If the days ne'er suit me, I shall suit myself the days unto. Never unto Nf.v-uks, never, will thy sweet words bitter seem ; Speak thou, then, for I'm contented all reproach to hearken to. 123 s H A H J N (MR A \'. ( K II A N OF Til K CRIMEA.) 1205 [1789] Yâr ş^t'Up 'âshiifnt menzilin) qiha jây. T F the fair one would hut come in her lover's home to stay, Were his eyes not filled with lij^ht by her face as bright as day? Or would yonder Moon but dart that her glance as dagger keen, And my rival's bosom pierce that, like llute, he breathe dismay!'** Fly not this poor one, Moon-face, who hath drunken deep of woe ; Order not that I be burned in the fire of love, I pray. If the grace of God the Lord to a slave should aider be, Though he lack a single groat he'll the Sphere as monarch sway. Rush the tear-drops from my eyes through their longing for thy face; — By its power thy sun-like face doth the dew-drops steal away.-''* By the Mystic Pathway's side, if thou'rt wise, a hostel build, F'or the travellers of T.ove, as a caravanseray. Proud and noble mistress mine, with those eyebrows and those eyes, Where a need of bow and shaft this thy lover fond to slay? Thou hast loosed thy tresses dark, o'er thy day-face spread a veil — Or in House of Scorpio is the Moon eclipsed, say?'*'* SHÂHIN GIRÂY. ,29 Should my loved one pierce my breast, right contented sooth were I ; Only worthy of her grace let that Moon-face me survey. Write, O pen, that I desire, like the salamander, fire ; Thus declare, should she it will, yonder lovely Queen Ilumay.'^'*' Is it then the shining moon that the world doth silver o'er. Or the radiance of thy face that doth earth in light array? Did the caviller dispute and thy sun-bright face decry, Would thy lover, like the mote, to that fool the truth convey.^^ Lovers surely for their loves do their talents aye employ ; Is it thine thy tribute now to present, ShAhix GirAv? «3° GÂLIB. I2I0 [1795] I From his Husn u 'Ishq, "Beauty and Love.'"^* The Song of Love's Nurse. Ey niilh iiy uy ki bu sheb. /^ MOON ! sleep, sleep thou, for this night ^-^ The cry " O Lord ! " upon thine ear shall snaite ; Though formed, its purpose is yet hid from sight, It shall be seen — the stars' potential might. Thou'lt be the roast upon the spit of pain ! O Rosebud ! sleep thou then this little while ; The Sphere's design against thee sooth is vile. For pitiless is it and strong in guile ; Ah ! never trust it, even though it smile. Thou'lt have, I fear me, reason oft to plain ! GÂLIB. 131 O Love's Narcissus ! sleep the sleep of peace ! Fall at the skirt of Fate and beg surcease ; Thy soul's eye ope — and, lo ! thy fears increase ! Guard thee against the end of woe, nor cease. Thou'lt be as plaything by Misfortune la'en ! Come, in the cradle of repose thee rest A few short nights, by sorrow undistrest ; Bid care and all it brings leave thee unprest ; In place of milk, blood shall be thy bequest. Thou'lt need the goblet of despite to drain ! O Jasmine-breast ! within the cradle lie ; Thus will not long remain the rolling Sky : The stars do not aye in one circle hie ; See what they'll do to thee. Love, by-and-bye. Thou'lt be the mill on sorrow's torrent's train ! From slumber do not thou thine eyelids keep. If aid can reach thee, it will come through sleep ; The Sphere will give a draught of poison deep. Then will thy work, like G.alib's, be to weep. Thou'lt be the rebeck at the feast of pain 1 132 GÂLIB. II From the Same. Love's Song Ey khosh o zemân ki dil olup shâd. OWEET were those moments when the heart was gay. ^^ And the soul's reahn, the court of joy's array ; Thoughts of those times now o'er my spirit stray, For love of God ! O Heavens ! mercy ! pray ! The pride of both the day and night was I. A garden fair was that my soul's repose ; Like those in Eden's bower, its every rose ; But parting comes and all of that o'erthrows. Now in my heart nought but its mem'ry glows. With honour's wine then drunken quite was L Then to the Sphere I never uttered prayer ; "* Feast, music, and delight — all mine — were there ; Moved ever by my side my Cypress fair ; Unopened then my secret and despair. The envy of the springtide bright was L GÂLIB. 133 Now before grief and woe I'm fallen prone ; Like nightingale in early spring, I moan. Through fire I've past and to the shore have flown. And, like the shattered glass, to earth am thrown. Sipping the wine, the fair's despite, was I. Ah me ! alas ! those happy hours are past ; The spring is past ; the rose, the flowers, are past ; The smiles of her who graced the bowers are past; The thirsty soul remains, the showers are past. Drinking with her the wine so bright was I. I with my loved one feast and banquet made, \\'ild as the whirlpool then I romped and played ; At wine-feasts I myself in light arrayed. And with my songs the nightingales dismayed. Like Gai.ib, blest with all delight was I. 134 F I T N K I K H A N I M. I 2 15 [1800 Ul.] I Gazel. Khiyâl-i gamzasitii sîneda nihân buldum. " I ^HE mem'ry of his glance hid in my breast deep laid I found ; It seemed as though a fawn within the lion's glade I found. O heart ! a parallel unto those eyebrows and that glance, In Rustem's "' deadly bow and Qahraman's *'' bright blade I found. When, through my grieving at thine absence, dead of woe was I, That mem'ry of thy rubies' kiss new life conveyed I found. My heart's wound, through the beauty of the spring of love for thee, By turns, rose, tulip, Judas-tree of crimson shade, I found.^ Is't strange, O Fitnet, if my soul around do scatter gems ? Within the ink-horn's vault a hidden treasure laid I found." FITXE7 KIIAXIM. «35 T' II M U s K D D E S. Snhâb-i nr,--biilulr \llrnia ı^üht-r-ni.^âr p/tin. 'HE fresh spring clouds across all earth their glistening pearls profuse now sow ; The flowers, too, all appearing, forth the radiance of their beauty show. Of mirth and joy 'tis now the time, the hour to wander to and fro ; The palm-tree o'er the fair ones' picnic gay its grateful shade doth throw. O Liege, come forth ! from end to end with verdure doth the whole earth glow ; 'Tis springtide now again, once more the tulips and the roses blow. Behold the roses, how they shine, e'en like the cheeks of maids most icar ; The fresh-sprung hyacinth shows like to beauties' dark, sweet, musky hair. The loved one's form behold, like cypress which the streamlet's bank dolh bear ; "^ In sooth, each side for soul and heart doth some delightful joy prepare. O Liege, come forth ! from end to end with verdure doth the whole earth glow ; 'Tis springtide now again, once more the tulips and the roses blow. 136 riTNET K HÂNI M. The parterre's flowers have all bloomed forth, the roses, sweetly smiling, shine; On every side lorn nightingales, in plaintive notes discoursing, pine ; How fair, carnation and wallflower the borders of the garden line ! The long-haired hyacinth and jasmine both around the cypress twine. O Liege, come forth I from end to end with verdure doth the whole earth glow ; 'Tis springtide now again, once more the tulips and the roses blow. Arise, my Prince ! the garden's court hath wondrous joys in fair array ; O hark, there midst the rose's boughs, the wailing nightingale's fond lay : Thy bright cheek show the new-oped rose and make it blush with shamed dismay ; With graceful air come then, thy cypress-mien before the mead display. O Liege, come forth 1 from end to end with verdure doth the whole earth glow ; 'Tis springtide now again, once more the tulips and the roses blow. Enow ! thy lovers pain no more, of faithful plight the days are now ; On streamlet's banks, of mirth and joy and gay delight the days are now ; In hand then take the heart's dear joy, the goblet bright, its days are now; O FiTNET, come, and these thy verses sweet recite, their days are now. O Liege, come forth! from end to end with verdure doth the whole earth glow ; 'Tis springtide now again, once more the tulips and the roses blow. 137 I L H A M I. (SULTAN S EL I M III.) 1222 [1807] I ( ; A / 1" I.. RFn 71 sheb dJdelerîın ilodiii He (/an (i:;liii: \ H ! through grief for thee mine eyes blood, every night and day, weep; Those who know my t)itter sorrow's secret i)ang for aye wcej». When they see me blood-besmeared by mv bosom's red wound. Pitying my doleful plight, the garden's flowerets gay weep."- When he viewed my bleeding heart, ruth had yon physician ; Quoth he : " Doth the cure for thee, Sick of love-dismay, weep." V^et to me doth yonder Torment of the Soul no grace show ; For my plight do all my friends, who me thus sick survey, weep. E'en as gazeth on thy check, amidst his woes, Ii.nAMi. Though his face may smiling be, his heart doth blood alway weep. 138 ıı.lfA^fı. II Gaze i.. Pnş^-i \î/tm ichre zâhirda sn/â dİ7- saffoHat. İV l\ IDST the orchard of the world though empire may appear delight, -'-'-'- Still, if thou wouldst view it closely, empire is but ceaseless fight. Vain let no one be who ruleth kingdoms in these woeful days : If in justice lie thy pleasure — then is empire truly right. Reacheth e'en one lover union in the space of thousand years ? Let whoever sees it envy — empire is of faithless plight. Think, O heart, alas ! the revolutions of the rolling Sphere '. If at times 'tis joy, far oftener empire bringeth dire affright. Do not envy, do not covet, then, the Kingship of the world ; O ! take heed, Ii.hAmî, empire bides not, swift indeed its flight. '39 FÂZIL BEG. 1225 [1810] I Gazel Giydi shejir 'imame siyâlı u stfîd u surkh. 'TT^HE trees and flowers their turbans roll of black and white and red The garden fastens on its stole of black and white and red. With sable eve and ermine dawn and fes of sunset bright, The sky doth all its pomp unroll of black and white and red. The pupils of my eyes are points upon the gleaming page, \Vith tears of blood I've writ a scroll of black and white and red.*** The youthful Magian's "® locks and breast were shadowed in the wine ; It seemed as though they filled the bowl with black and white and red. Isi ambergris, or is it pearl, or coral, FAzil, say. This poesy thy reed doth troll, of black and while and redP^"^ 140 lA/.ii /■!/•:(;. ri From iiik Zknân-Nâma.-'^ Description of CiRCAbsiAN Women. Ey ritkln liuic-nıbâ-vi khnrshtd. A H ! her cheek doth rob the fair sun of its sight. ^ ^ And her sweet grace envy brings to \'enus bright. Like to moons are the Circassian damsels fair ; Whatsoe'er the lover seeks he findeth there. Like to tall palm-trees their slender forms in grace, Or a ladder to the clear moon of the face. With the two feet of the eyes doth one ascend, But the vision of the mind too one must bend. Since their lips and cheeks are taverns of wine, Is it strange their eyes inebriate should shine ? Since like rubies are created their two lips, Doubly seared the lovers heart, like the tulip's. ""^ Since their bodies are distilled from moon and sun, How an equal to their pure frame find can one ? Though they lovlier than Georgians may be. Still in (ieorgians one will i^aeat attractions see. FÂZJI. BEG. 141 Closely curtained sit they all in virtue's place : Pure of skirt is ever this unrivalled race : ~^ Pure and free from stain is every act of theirs ; Not a soil the vestment of their honour bears ; Marked with chastity indeed, of noble heart. Ever seeking to fulfil the righteous part : Bright with bounty and fidelity and sense, How that blessed nature glows with light intense Think not with this race that any can compare Upon earth, unless it be the Georgian fair. TÂZfL BEC. Ill From thk Same. Description ok Cİklek Women.'*' Ey kiltsâ-yi belâ nâı/ûsi. /^ \ H ! thou the Bell upon the church of pain 1 ^-^^ Thou the Pride of all the Messianic train ! -"^ Source of being ! if a mistress thou should seek, Then, I pray thee, let thy loved one be a Greek. Unto her the fancies of the joyous bend, For there 's leave to woo the Grecian girl, my friend.* Caskets of coquetry are the Grecian maids, \nd their grace the rest of womankind degrades. What that slender waist so delicate and slight '. What those gentle words the sweet tongue di>th indite What those blandishments, that heart-attractini; uilk ! What that elegance, that heart-attracting walk ! What that figure, as the cypress tall and free — - In the park of God's creation a young tree ! AVhat those attitudes, those motions, wondrous fair : What that glance inebriate that showeth there ! i'.Â/.n ntj;. Cîiven those disdainful air.-> lo her nldiu-. And her legacy that accent and that tone. All those letters on her sweet tongue's tip arc roiled. And those words with many graces she '11 unfold ; Strung the regal pearls of her enchanting speech, Pounded seem they when her gentle mouth they reach : To her tongue if come a letter harsh to say, Then her sweet mouth causeth it to melt away ; Her mouth would fain the words conserve in sooth, For her mouth is speech-conserves in very truth ;'-■*' Speaking parrots are they surely one and all."' To their portion doth the birdies' lan^uaLîc fal!.-'^'' With a thousand graces saith her rosebud-lip : " Zee vine, O noble Lord, vill zou no sip ; •** When thy glass is empty, fill it full again, To my love drink, O my Pasha, drink amain ! " ^ To the soul add life her ways and charms so dear, Surely thus is it a mistress should appear. E'en the old misogynist would concjuered be. Saw he yonder maid, uxorious were he. So symmetrical the line her body shows, One would it a balanced hemistich sui)pose. Other women seek to imitate her grace, As their pride and frontispiece she holds her place. What that figure tail, and what that graceful mien ' Fair-proportioned is her body ever seen. 144 /.//// A'AY7. Moving litİK'K'. •>lii' iVom side to sick- will turn, riiat the licnrts of nil her lovers she may burn. 'J'hat ca]i which on one side she i^'aily wears ; That jaunty stej) ; those joyous heedless airs : Those motions — they are just what me delight ; And her tripping on two toes — how fair a sight ! 'Twere as though with fire her pathway were inlaid,'^ That would burn the feet of yonder moon-Uke maid. Thou wouldst deem her lovers' hearts upon her wa\. Burning with their love for her, all scattered lay. * * * * # -it Is't herself they call " Qoqona " let us see?^' Or her locks ? — how wondrous sweet their odours he '. .\s the sash trails on the ground beneath thy feet. So will she thy feet salute with kisses sweet. Misbeliever, thou dost sense steal from the heart : Torment thou — I know not what a ^^^oe thou art : Know not I if thou be hiiri or peri,'-''- Know not I of Mary what is found in thee ; Art thou Mary's, child of 'Imran's, rosebud bright ? '^''■' Of the dwelling of the monks art thou the light ? Envy bearing to her hinna-crimsoned hand, Doth the red egg covered o'er with blushes stand."'" With the Greek cannot thy genus e'er compare, Oeem I, be thou genius or huri fair ! -'^' '45 \\' A S I I'. 1236 [1820 A7. j 1 r I R I i'-H 1 N I).*^- On thf. Defeat ok thk French iv Egypt bv the Qaitpan Huseyn I'asha. Fy jfdel-gâh-i jilıânin Niicni-i jen^-iiveri ! / \ THOU Nircm, batUc-waging, of the world's fierce field of fighl 1 "^ () thou Sânı, fell dragon-visaged, of the age's i)lain of might '. Thou art he in whom the favours of the Lord Most High unite ; Earth and ocean thou hast concjuered, waging war on left and right ! (iold, in Islam's cause, thou pouredst like 1(j water down a height ; Legions like the Nile on Egypt's shore thou madest to alight. With thy sabre's blow right fiercely thou the foeman's head didst smite ; (jjddy made thy sword the misbelievers" chieftains with affright. Midst the earth's oak-grove a valiant lion like to thee in might, Since the days of Rustem, ne'er hath passed beneath the Heavens' sight. " Bravo ! Chami)ion of the Ejjoch I rending ranks in serried fight ! O'er the 'Arsh hang now th) ^abre, «sparkling like the Pleiads bright:""* Lion! Alexander!"'' had he seen that l)attle thou did>t gain. Crown and throne to thee to offer Key-(Jubâd were surely fain ' 146 It' is//: O most noble ! thou a Vezir to such fame that dost attain. That the God of Hosts did surely Lord of P'ortune thee ordain ! Like to flame, the fiery blast scathed foemen's lives, it blazed amain : Threw'st thou, cinder-like, the misbelievers' ashes o'er the plain. "Conqueror of the Nations' Mother" as thy title should be tacn :^" Since thou'st saved the Nations' Mother, all the nations joy again. Wishing long ago, 'twould seem, to sing thy splendid glory's strain, Nef'i wTOte for thee this couplet — for thy deeds a fit refrain : •'" " Bravo 1 Champion of the Epoch ! rending ranks in serried fight ! O'er the 'Arsh hang now thy sabre, sparkling like the Pleiads briiihi When the misbelieving Frenchman sudden swooped on Egypt's land. Thither was the army's leader .sent by the Great King's command : But at length o'erthrown and vanquished by the foe his luckless band. Then thou wentest and the vile foe scatter'dst wide on ever)- hand ; Then, when they thy lightning-flashing, life-consuming cannon scanned, Knew the hell-doomed misbelievers vain were all things they had planned. Hundred vezirs, joy-attended, countless foemen did withstand ; Day and night, three years the misbelievers fought they brand to brand ; Worn and wretched fell those at thy feet, and quarter did demand : It beseems thee, howsoever high in glory thou mayst stand ! " Bravo ! Champion of the Epoch 1 rending ranks in serried fight '. O'er the 'Arsh hang now thy sabre, sparkling like the Pleiads bright ! " Through this joy beneath thy shade the world doth its desires behold ; With thy praises eloquent the tongues of all, both young and old. Thou to Faith and Empire then didst render ^er\irc> untold IV; S/F. ,^. Hurling down to earth the foeman's house in one assault right bold ! O Vezir ! Jem-high ! think not that flattery my words enfold :—■"•' Though a poet, not with false or vaunting boasts I've thee extolled. Midst the fight for Egypt's conquest firm in stirrup was thy hold. Under thy Egyptian charger trod'st thou foemen like the mould."' From the handle of thy sword, like water, down the red tilood rolled : Thou the foe mad'st turn his face, mill-like, in terror uncontrolled. " Bravo ! Champion of the Epoch \ rending ranks in serried fight ! O'er the 'Arsh hang now thy sabre, sparkling like the I'leiads bright:" Those who sing thy glories, like to \\'asik, wildered aye must be ; Sayeth WAsii": ''None on earth like Huseyn Pasha I shall see." If there be who has in vision seen a peerless one like thee, As a dream all void of meaning, let him it relate to me. Cannon-ball like, 'gainst the foe thou threw'st thyself from terror free ; T,ike the winter blast thou mad'st the foeman shake in front of thee. Claim to manliness forsaking, even as the blind was he, Sword in hand despairing stood he, like to one who nought can see : Quick his throat thou seizedst, like the dragon direful in his glee, Neath thy sabre's wave thou drown'dst the misbeliever, like the sea ! " Bravo ! Chamj^ion of the Epoch ! rending ranks in serried fight ! O'er the 'Arsh hang now thy sabre, sparkling like the I'leiads bright!" 148 HÂS//: S H A K Q î.'"-'^'' F.y go)ic/ıa''-î bılj^'-i ıııerâm. /^\ ROSEBUD uf joys noucry Ica : ^"■'^ O graceful one with step so free If thou wilt yield thee not to me, On earth the glass of mirth and glee 'l"o nie s forbid, apart from thee. Behold my breast, by guile unprest, Is't not mid thousand treasures best? Until thou tak'st me to thy breast. On earth the glass of mirth and glee To me "s forbid, apart from thee. O Rose-leaf fresh ! concealed from sight With thee till morn a livelong night If 1 may not enjoy delight, (Jn earth the glass of mirth and glee To me s forbid, apart from thee. iv.l.s//-. 140 Yearning for union fills my soul. Patience and peace have no control . O wanton one ! my longing's goal '. On earth the glass of mirth and gltc 'I'tj nic s forbid, apart from thee. Seek, NN'AsiK, her who hearts doth snare Yon maid with bosom silver-fair ; Until thou thither dost repair, On earth the glass of mirth and gicc 'Jo me s forbid, apart from thee. 50 ıvÂs/r. Ill s H A R Q I. AV/;/ ^^Utsa id In'/î n.u/l. '' t ''O whom that winc-rcd ruby s ^hown Is (.i))ti\i' by those locks o'erthrown Tis meet like nightingale 1 moan : A lovely Scio Rose is blown.*** Unmatched yon maid with waist so spare, Unrivalled too her wanton air ; Her ways than e'en herself more fair: A lovely Scio Rose is blown. The roses like her cheeks are few : That rose — blush-pink its darling hue ; This summer ere the roses blew, A lovely Scio Rose is l)lown. The rose — the nightingale's ama/.e ; The rose the nightingale dismays : A smile of hers the world outweighs : A ly lea. The nightingale thus spake to me: "Be joyful tidings now to thee — A lovely Scio Rose is blown."' K \ M I / r A s II A. 1236 [1820 i-a.] ( J A Z K I . Cuuul ola'usa da misd(>ul to j:(). () lx)rcl ' My virtue's rose to tint and scent as cajuive do not throw, () Lord' l-'rom vain nttac hnients' stain wasli pure and (lean my heart as snow, I) lx>rd* Against me i)lace not Thou the loathsome pool uf lies of foe, C) Lord ' The burning jjain of exile no relief can ever know. () Lord! Enow, if Thou the camphor-saive, the dawn of hope, did show. () l.ur.i Thy slave is RAmiz; unto none save Thee doth he bend low, (J Lord' Before 1 hy mercy's gate his tears from eyes ami eyelids flow, U l-ord ' «52 •I /. Z K I M () 1, 1, A. 1252 1 1836 rtr.] K K o M T 11 I M I 1 r \ r r - K i: s h  n.*"' () A Z F, I,. A/f}'/ ederini kuhnf serha qatnet-i bâlâ-yi 'ishq. A FTER old rags longing hath the figure tall and slight of Love ? ■^ Fresh and fresh renews itself aye the brocade fire-bright of Love. (iainst the flames from thorns and thistles ne'er a curtain can be wove, Nor 'neath honour's veil can hide the public shame, the blight of Love. Through a needle's eye it sometimes vieweth far-off Hindustan — i Mind anon in its own country is the piercing sight of Love. It will turn it to a ruin where nought save the owl may dwell, In a home should chance be set the erring foot of plight of Love. Will a single spark a hundred thousand homes consume at times : C)ne to me are both the highest and the lowest site of Love. Never saw I one who knoweth — O most ignorant am I ! Yet doth each one vainly deem himself a learned wight in Love. Rent and shattered— laid in ruins — all my caution's fortress vast Have my evil Fate, my heart's black grain, the rage, the blight of Love.^' In its hell alike it tortures Musulmân and infidel, 'IzzET, is there chance of freedom from its pangs, this plight of Love? Of reality hath made aware the seeker after Truth, Showing lessons metaphoric. He. the Teacher bright, St. Love ! '53 'A D L î. (S U LT A N M A H M T h II.) '-'55 [1839] (1 AZ EL. Mubteliisi oldıti^u ol tın'-Jmıuln hilmnlenir. ' I ^HAT I'm fall 'n her conquered slave, yon maiden bright feigns not to know ; Thus pretending, she who doth the soul despite feigns not to know. Though I fail nought in her service, she doth me as alien treat ; Know not I why yonder Darling, earth's Delight, feigns not to know. If I dare to speak my eager longing those her lips to kiss, lYiendship she disclaims, in .sooth with cruel slight feigns not to know, rhat she whets her glance's arrow and therewith doth pierce the hc;'.n. E'en her bow-like eyebrow, yonder Ban of might feigns not to know.^ Well the loved one knows tlie Sphere doth keep no faithful troth ; but, al»' How she copies it, that Heart-ensnarer bright feigns not to know. There is ne'er a refuge, 'Aui.i, from the grief of rivals' taunts ; 1 my love c0nce.1l not. still yon m;iiden slight feigns not to know. '54 L E V L A K H  N I M. 1275 [1858] I 1'  R Î K H. On the 1 ) f, a t h ok 'A n d e l î b K h A n i m.'-^ Akhirctlik ''Audellh Khâvivı fenâden gitdi, âh ! ' A NDELiB, th' adopted sister, from this transient world hath flown, "^ ^ Yonder midst the flowers of Eden whilst still in her youth to stray. No physician, neither charmer, on the earth her pain could ease ; So that youthful beauty bided not to smile on earth's mead gay. With her two-and-twenty summers, cypress-like was she, ah .me ! But the sullen blast of autumn smote her life's bright, lovely May. For its tyranny and rancour might have blushed the vile, hard Sphere, As the sister of earth's Monarch pined in grief without allay. Though her kind friend never parted from her eye's sweet, gentle beam. Still did she to God her soul yield, and the call. Return, obey.*®* Down the wayward Sphere hath stricken that bright Jewel to the earth :— What avail though men and angels tears of blood shed in dismay ? Length of days to that great Sultan grant may He, the God of Truth ! And yon fair Pearl's tomb make rival His own Eden's bright display ! With the dotted letters, Leylâ, thou the year tell'st of her death — (Ta/m amongst :ı htızıı ve elem l>ıı gam tâ kev ? T T E ART ! heart ! how long shall last this sorrow, anguish and dismay? All things upon earth's ruin-cumbered waste must needs decay. What was the splendour of Jemshid? where Khusrev and where Key?-*' Hold fast the goblet and the wine, let chance not fleet away ! " Our coming to this world is one ; man must reflect, survey ; Care must one banish, and look out for calm and quiet aye." Be he Khusrev. or Rustem, or Neriman, or Jemshid, Or be he beggar; be Islam or heathenesse his creed; A few days in earth's inn a guest is he, then must he speed : Something to render gay that time is surely wisdom's need. " Our coming to this world is one ; man must reflect, survey ; Care must one banish, and look out for calm and quiet aye." When viewed with understanding's eye, the mote hath no repose ; The world must thus be imaged for exemiuion from its woes :" Of my coming and my going it no lasting picture shows — That a departure surely is which no returning knows. " Our coming to this world is one ; man must reflect, survey ; Care must one banish, and look out for calm and quiet aye." Z/Kf BEG. I6i Events the workings of the Lord Most High make manifest ; Being the mirror is in which the Ahsohite 's exprcst ; He who this mystery perceives in every state is blest ; The exit of each one who enters earth decreed doth rest. " Our coming to this world is one ; man must reflect, survey ; Care must one banish, and look out for calm and quiet aye." See that thou grievest not thyself with sorrows all unwise ; 'Tis need all pleasure to enjoy as far as in thee lies ; Alike is he who lives in joy and he whom trouble tries ; If thou be prudent, ne'er thine opportunities despise. '' Our coming to this world is one ; man must reflect, survey ; Care must one banish, and look out for calm and {]uiet aye." Since first the banrjuet fair, this world, was cast in form's designs, How many rakes have passed away ! how many libertines ! As counsel meet for revellers, when he perceived those signs. Around the goblet's rim the Magian priest engraved these lines:*** " Our coming to this world is one ; man must reflect, sur\ey ; Care must one banish, and look out for calm and ijuiet aye." At length, ZıvÂ, shall joy beam forth, and grief an end shall hnd . But yet, O man, these ever enter Fortune's feast combined. 'Fhis hidden mystery learn thou, by Mahmvid Beg defined, Who has the secret of the same within this verse enshrined : " Our coming to this world is one ; man must reflect, survey ; Care must one banish, and look out for calm and quiet aye." i BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICKS iyiKlIIBlD Sultan Süleyman I. ıT'ratn u JurKCtifi J.oumti/rva . BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICr:S. Thk following Biographical Notices arc, for the most part, compiled from ^'on Hammer's Geschichte dcr Osmanischen Dichikunst. The greater length of the sketches of the earlier Poets is accounted for by the fact that the materials for drawing out such sketches are much more accessible in their case than in that of the more modern authors. The originals of the verses translated in some of the Notices will be found in the Tezkeras of Latifi and Qinali-Zada. The dates im- mediately following a jjoet's name show the year of his death, the first, according to the Hijra; the second, to the Christian era. 'ASHIQ Pasha (733=1332) is the earliest writer of the Ottomans; he flourished as far back as the reign of Orkhan, second monarch of the nation ; and conseiiucntly, as may be imagined, his wurk is of great interest as a specimen of tlie language at that tlisianl period. He li\ed where he was born, in the town of (^ir-Shehr in .\natoiia. His title (A Pasha is a spiritual one ; he was not a leader of warriors, but a i hief among mystics ; in the same way the great Sheykh lUikhara is (ailed Emir, and the M)n of Mevlana 1 66 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. Jelalu-'d-I )in, Sultan \'clc(l. I'hc folluwing is one of 'Ashin's sayings, recorded l)y I.aiifi : " He is a dervish who forsakes the world ; he is a beggar whom the world forsakes." A n M K I» I (815^1412) is the first and perhaps the greatest of the Otto- man epic poets. He does not, however, owe this high position to elegance of diction, for his words and phrases are not unfrequently rough and uncouth, but to the immense sweep of subject contained in his great work, the Iskender-Nilma, which is an epitome, not only of Oriental history from the earliest times down to the period when he wrote, but also of Eastern mysticism, philosophy, and science. He was born at Sivas, and flourished during the reigns of Murâd I. and Bâyezid I. The biographers relate that when Ahmedi took his iskender- Nâma to his patron, Prince Süleyman, the ill- fated son of Bâyezid, he met with but a jioor reception, being told that an elegant qaslda would have been preferable to so ponderous a work. Ahmedi, deeply chagrined at this, went and complained to the great poet Sheykhi, with whom he lived ; so Sheykhi that night composed a qaslda in Ahmedi's name and gave it to the latter to take to his patron. The Prince, at once perceiv- ing the difference between the graceful diction of Sheykhi and the unpolished style of Ahmedi, said smilingly to the poet : " If this qaslda is thine, then yonder book is not ; and if yonder book is thine, then this qaslda is not." When Timur in his Anatolian campaign, which so very nearly proved fatal to the Ottoman power, arrived at Amâsiya, he made the acquaintance of Ahmedi ; for he was fond of the society of men of letters, and the exploits of Ahmedi's hero, Alexander the Great, were congenial subjects to the Tatar conqueror. One day, in the public bath, the monarch said to the poet : "Value me these fair boys thou seest here." Ahmedi valued them, some, at BIOGRAPinCAI. NOTICES. ,67 the world filled with gold and silver, others, at the tribute of Kgypt in i>carls and jewels. "And at how niiu h dost thou value me?" said the mightv conqueror. "At eighty a(/c/ias," * replied the poet. "The towel I have about me is alone worth eighty aqchas" said 'rimiir. Ahmedi's answer was bold : " It was therefore I valued thee thereat, and above that thou art worth nothing; for the Commanding Soul f is not worth a red farthing." 'I'imûr, instead of being angry, was pleased with this repl\-. and rewarded the poet. Besides the Iskendcr-Nâma, Ahmedi left a romantic poem (ailed yemshid ami K/iurs/ih/, and a Dlıvâıı oi gazel s and i- Namas. S H E V K H I (830= 1426 ca.), the first of the Ottomans to write a romantic poem, was born, during the reign of liaye/id I., in (iermiyân in .\>>ia .Minor. His name was Sinan, the tak/iai/us, or surname, of Sheykhi being given tu him partly on account of his advancement in the mystic path, and partly by reason of his being the Shcykh, or chief, of the poets of his age. He studied * An aqcha is a small coin, one-third of a paia, and consc(|iu-ntIy \ not'» «f a piaMrc. or the ;; .3 til of a penny. t 'I'liere are three stales of the passions in Muslin» etiiics— (1) Xf/s-i F.mm.mu "lite Coniniaiidini,' Soul or Klesli," that state of the passions when they hnl>ilually control and coiniH'l the individual to obey their exigencies ; (2) Xe/s-i I.nıoânıa, "ihc rpliiaidinR Soul," that state when the passions can be controlled, though they still strive to ni.ikc llicir voice heard ; (3) A'ffs-i Mutnia'imia, "the Peaceful Soul," ihat ^Inte whrn the p.'x^ionv are totally subdued. 1 68 niOGRAPIIlCAI. NOTICES. for a time at Hriisa with Ahmcdi, the author of the hkeuder-NCima, and then under the celebrated Sheykh Haji Beyrâm, founder of the Beyrâmi Order of dervishes. '\o gain his livelihood, Sheykhi undertook the study of medicine, giving particular attention to the diseases of the eye, a branch of the science to \vhi( h he may have been attracted by some such malady in himself Any- how the story is told of a i)atient, to whom he had for an aqcha given an oint- ment for the eyes, making him a present of another aqcha that he might prepare a further supply for his own organs of vision. Sheykhi was the trusted medical adviser of Sultan Muhammed I. Things had not gone very well with that monarch on one of his military expeditions, and in consequence thereof he had lost both his spirits and his health. The physician, perceiving what was the cause of the Sultan's indisposition, promised him complete recovery with the news of the first victory. This was not long of coming, and with it returned the sovereign's heart and health. Muhammed, pleased with his doctor's penetration, rewarded him with the rich fief of Toquzlu. This, however, did not meet with the approval of the then possessor of that demesne, who waylaid Sheykhi on his road thither, robbed him of all he had about him, and gave him a severe cudgelling into the bargain. The poei brought this incident under the Sultan's notice by means of a satire written in verse and entitled K/iarSania, " The Ass-Book,'' in which he related tht whole adventure. Sultan Murad II. held the poet-doctor in even highei esteem than had done his predecessor, Muhammed ; for he desired to makt him his vezir. This the enemies of Sheykhi prevented : under guise of zea! for literature they represented to Murad how much better it would be to firsi employ such a distinguished poet in some great literary work, and then tc reward him with the vezirate. The Sultan was deceived ; he requestec Sheykhi to translate into Turkish some of the works of the great Persian poe HIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. ,69 Nizami. Khusrer and S/i'irln was the poem selected ; but Shcykhi did not live to finish it; he died during the reign of Murad II., to whom his translation is dedicated, and lies buried at Kûtâhiya. His nephew Jemâli, the author of several poems, completed the work. I'ive Ottoman poets besides Shcykhi have sung the story of Shirin : Âhi, Jelili, Khalifa, and Mu'eyycd-2^da composed Khusrai and SlTirins; whilst Lami'i wrote the tale of her adventures with Ferhâd, under the name oi Ferhâd-Nâma^ "The Book of Ferhâd." Wc are told tliat once, shortly after the capture of Constantinople, when the great Sheykh, Aq Shemsu-'d-Din, was seated in deep meditation amongst his disciples, he repeated over and over again, as it were from the depths of his soul, the words, " O Germiyân ! O Germiyân ! " ^Vhen his wondering pupils asked him what he meant thereby, he said to them that the exclamations had been wrung from him by admiration of these lines of the great |)oet of Germiyân : Ne'er can Reason, of the caravan of God's nıi^ht, news convey ; Through that means, not e'en the tinkling of its bell can reach the soul.* Yaziji-Oglu (853 = 1449), called also Ibn-Katib— the first name being Turkish, the other Arabic, for the Scribe's .9^//— lived at C.alii)oli with his brother Bijân, who was, like himself, a mystic jioet. The first, who had studied under the celebrated Sheykh Hfiji Ik-yram, founder of the order of dervishes, called the Beyrami, wrote in Aral)i( a great theological work entitled, Magâribu-z-Zemâu fi GanYibi-I-Es/ıyâ fi-l-'Ayn - el-' Ayan, which his brother translated into Turkish under the name Envaru-l-'Ashiq'm, "The Lights of Lovers." Both brothers then took the Afas'ln'b as material for new • A'iliriyJnin kânıkımuJcn khaher rermf. 'Uifi'il : F.rmc. anJau jiiti qulai^itia nuger bâttg-i jern. 170 niocRAi'incAi. xoriciis. works: Bîjân compiled from it the Durr-i Meknfin, "The Hidden Pearl," and the other, known as Yaziji-Oglu, the f^reat poem of tlie Muhammediyya. This immense work, which consists of 9109 couplets, comprises the whole doctrine of Islam, as well as the history of the I'rojjhet. It was completed in 853 (1449), four years before the capture of Constantinople. Sultan Murâd II. (855 = 1451), sixth sovereign of the House of 'Osman, is notable as being the earliest of the Ottoman Monarchs who encouraged i)oetry by personal example, the first of the long line of poet- sultans. The principal events of Murâd's reign are, an unsuccessful siege of Constantinople, and the memorable victory of Varna, where a host of forsworn Christians under Hunyades met in an utter and ignominious rout the just reward of treachery. In this battle the standard of the Ottomans consisted of a lance on which was reared a copy of the treaty violated by the Christians, who, having seen Murâd occupied in Asia, pounced upon his European territories, after swearing upon the Gospels to leave them undisturbed. Murâd II. twice abdicated and was twice recalled to the throne, the first time to gain the battle just spoken of More to his taste than the pomp of sovereignty was his quiet and pleasant retreat at Magnisa, where twice a week he held re-unions of savants and poets, at which the guests discussed literary questions and recited verses of their own composition. Murâd died in Adrianople, after a glorious reign of thirty years. 'AvNi: Sultan Mu hammed II. (886=1481) was girt with the scimitar of 'Osman when twenty-one years of age. Two years later Constan- tinople, and with it the last vestige of the Roman Empire, fell before his victorious legions. When, after the capture of this great city, the Sultan niOGRAPIIlCAI. A'OTICES. ,7, entered the deserted i)alacc of the Emperors, gazing \x\yon the scene of desolation, and pondering on the transitoriness of the glories of earth, he repeated this famous Persian couplet : Midst the palace of the Caesars doth the spider weave her toil ; And the owl stands sentry o'er the turrets of r,frâ>iyâl).* Many concjuests mark his reign : the Prinripality of Siniih and the Km|)irc of Trebizond were annexed to the Ottoman dominions : and the Kingdom of Qaraman, which had been the rival of the 'Osmânli power from its earliest days, was finally subdued. Sultan Muhammcd II. fought and overthrew the Vallachian Prince, Vlad the Impaler, one of the most cruel tyrants of whom history makes mention. The Ottoman admiral, Cîedik Ahmed Pasha, towards the close of this Sultan's reign landed in Italy and captured Otranto. Muhammed II. died at the age of fifty-two, having in his thirty years' reign conquered 2 empires, 7 kingdoms, and 200 towns. M. Servan de Sugny, who ought to have known better, gives credence to the fable of Irene (who never existed), and even goes so far as to connect one of the Sultan's poems with this mythical tragedy! Sultan Muhammed II., himself a poet, was a great patron and ])rotector of literature and men of letters ; thu.s, as his many and brilliant achievements in war have earned for him the title of Ebu-lJilh^ " Father of Victory," so have his zeal and liberality in building medresas\ and the like gained for him the surname o{ Ebu-1-KJıayrât, "I-"athcr of (kiod Works." Thirty Ottoman poets were pensioned by him, and every year he sent 1000 ducats a-piecc to the Indian Khoja'-i Jihfin and the Persian Jâmi. the latter of * Fadc-dâıî tm-kiincd do- qi^sr-i Qaysar Uuıkebiü ; Bum hâtıgvıl-ttıted der pimb(d-i Efı.utyâK Efrâsiyâb is the name of a Turanian Prince, the chief opponent of ihc Pcfiitn Rustcm liis exi)loits are detailed in the .Shâh-Nânıa. t A tnedresa is a college for the study of law and divinity. Î72 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. whom composed an ode in his honour. Muhammed II., like many other of the Ottoman Sultans (who resemble in this respect the old Khalifas of Bagdad), delighted exceedingly in the society of poets. Persians especially had for him a great attraction ; and tlie story is told of a Turk who, to gain admittance to the Imijcrial circle, gave out that he was a native of Iran; he was however detected and summarily dismissed. Muhammed wrote most oi his gazels under the takhalliis of 'Avni. Many of his vezirs were poets; amongst whom may he mentioned Ahmed Pasha, Mahmüd Pasha, and Jezeri Qasim Pasha; the two latter wrote under the names 'Adeni and Safi, respectively. These, like their master, were men of action as well as of letters. — Sultan Muhammed II. had full, round cheeks, tinted red and white ; and a firm mouth; the moustachios that adorned his lips were "like leaves over two rosebuds, and every hair of his beard was as a thread of gold;" while his hooked nose over his red lips was like "the beak of a parrot above a cherry." The practice of imperial fratricide, though not originated by Muhammed XL, was by him made into a state maxim. If it be true that it is better one should die than many, that "an insurrection is more grievous than an execu- tion,"* then was this otherwise atrocious custom altogether justifiable ; for as surely as an Ottoman Prince had the power to assault his brother's throne, he did so with might and main ; and even if he had not the power, so long as he lived there was always a host of restless spirits and disappointed adventurers ready to make his detention the excuse for an attack upon the existing authority. For an empire, surrounded by inveterate and powerful foes, and containing within its own borders a conquered, and therefore hostile, popula- tion, to be periodically exhausted by furious and useless fratricidal wars would * Qur'an, ii., 187. BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 173 have been simi)ly ruin. The sagacity of Muhammed foresaw this, and his grim fortitude did not shrink from applying the only possible remedy. In this case, as in many another, a swift stern blow dealt uncompromisingly at the root of the evil was, in the I(jng run, the most merciful course that could be adopted. It need scarcely be said that with the necessity for it, this custom died out. With the Jagatây Turkish Emperors of Dihli this rule did not liold ; and, as a conse(iuence, the emjjire of the "Great Moguls" was rarely free from civil war. It would seem that nothing less than a crown could satisfy the lofty ambition of a 'ruiki>h Prince. 'Adenî: M .\ h .m û i> Pasha (879=^ 1474). the conqueror of Negro- pontc, one of the poet-grand-vezirs of Sultan Muhammed II., was the son of an lilyrian father and a Byzantine mother. He constructed many public buildings in Constantinoiile, some of which remain to this day. His bounty and liberality are highly praised by the Ottoman biographers. Qinali-Zada tells us that on the completion of the college he built in the capital, he gave to each of the students two turbans, a piece of scarlet cloth (for a garment), and 500 aqchas. Every Friday he held an entertainment of savants, and regularly among the dishes served was a plate of rice and pea.s, a great number of the latter being of pure gold ; every guest kept those he look up in his spoon. Mahnuid fell eventually umler the Sultan's displeasure, was dismissed from office, imprisoned in the Seven 'l\)wers, and there, after a little, |)Ut to death. Shortly before his disgrace he .said : " I came to the threshold of the Padishah with a horse, a sword, and 500 aqchas ; whathOc%tr I possess besides has been gained in ihc service of the Padishah ; and in the shade of his good fortune have heart and soul attained each ho|)e and wish." 174 lUOGRAPIIICAL NOTICES. AkiiAhİ (880=1475 CO.) was a native of the < ity of Amâsiya. He gained admittance to the court of Sultan Bayczid II.; hut there "the fraternity of envy, to force and expel him from the ( ourt of the Padishah, blocked up the path of i^ropricty with the thorns and thistles of sj^ite and ran- cour, and drave him far from the Imperial presence ; and in the time of old age shattered the glass, his tender heart, with the stone of cruelty." In hi.s retirement he composed a qaslda giving an account of his misfortunes. Latifi says that "his Z^râ'J// is composed of flowery jjoesies ; and his sweet expositions, of the delicious flavour of expressions." Zeyneb (886= 1481 ca.), according to Latifi, was horn in Qastamuni : but 'Ashiq Chelebi states that Amâsiya, where her father was ıjâdl, was her native town. Perceiving her talent, her father made her study the Persian Dlwans and the Arabic qasldas^ with happy result ; for she herself composed a Dlwan of Turkish and Persian poems, which she dedicated to Sultan Muhammed II. She seems never to have been married. Latifi says of her " She was a lady of virtue and chastity, a maiden, modest and pure ; in the female sex, in the class of womankind, a wonder of the age, one renowned and covered with fame." And thus Qinali-Zada : "The bride, her learning anc poetry, is not hidden and concealed by the curtain of secrecy and the veil 01 bashfulness ; but the rosiness of her beauty and the down and mole of hei comeliness are beheld and esteemed of the public, and the object of the gaze of every man and woman." Prince Jem (901 = 1495) was the younger brother of Sultan Bâyczic XL, with whom (after the wont of Turkish Princes) he contested the Imperia throne. Being defeated at Yeni-Shehr, he fled to the court of the Sultan 01 BfOGKAPIIICAL NOTICES. ,75 Egypt, where he was hospiiably received, and whence he made the pilgrimage to Mekka. Next year he renewed the war and was again defeated ; and this time, unfortunately for himself, he sought refuge in Christian lands. He fled with thirty followers to Rhodes and begged protection from the Knights of St. John. D'Aubusson, the Grand Master, received him; not out of any kindli- ness, but for the sake of the coffers of the Order. The Knights soon came to the conclusion that their prisoner would be safer in one of the commatuierUs owned by the Order in l'"rancc, so they shipped the Trince and his few retainers off to Nice. The (Irand Master then made an arrangement with Sultan Bâyezid, whereby the former was to receive a yearly payment of 45.000 ducats, ostensibly for the maintenance of the Prince, but in reality as a briU- for his compulsory detention in some possession of the Order. On Jem'.s arrival at Nice, he composed his celebrated ^us^-/ which begins with the lines : Come, O Jkm, lliy Jemshid cup chain ; 'lis the land of Krankistân ; Aye, 'tis fate, and what is written on his brow must haj) to man.* He was detained for some months in that city under various pretexts, and most of his Turkish followers were forcibly separated from him ; then he wa.^ removed to the interior, where he was transferred from castle to castle. At one of these, that of Sassenage, the beautiful Philipinne Helene, daughter of the châtelain, fell in love with the Turkish Prince, and by her kindness did much to cheer the dreary hours of his captivity : long after his removal from Sassenage his only solace was in correspondence with this fair friend. During his thirteen years of captivity among the I'ranks, so far as history tells, Prince Jem received no sincere kindness from any Christian. exce|)t this lady. Knights, Kings, and Popes, though they treated him with outward respect *Jûıu-i y,ni ttûsh n'/i-, ey Jem, bu liiftikistdH Mr ; Her i/nlun bashina yazilnu ^elir, dri'tdn dt*. 176 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. and flattered him with false promises of aid to gain his father's throne, made him an object (A barter among themselves for the sake of the ducats thai could be got from Stamboul for his safe custody. l<"rom the hands of the Rhodian Knights, Jem was transferred to those o: Pope Innocent VIII., who, dying shortly afterwards, was succeeded by th( infamous Alexander Borgia. This pontiff sent an ambassador to Constan tinople to arrange about the continuation of the payment of the 45,000 ducats; but he also stipulated that he was to have the option of receiving 300,00c ducats down, if he effectually relieved Bâyezid from all further anxiety on the score of Jem, by putting an end to that Prince's life. Charles VIIL, King ol France, invaded Italy, entered Rome, and acquired possession of Jem, Borgia saw that his chance of profit through the maintenance of the Ottomar Prince was gone, so he chose the still more profitable alternative, and causae the unfortunate fugitive to be poisoned. The biographers record that, when at the Egyptian Court, Jem sent to hi: brother this verse : Thou liest on couch of roses, smiling with delight ; Whilst I am fall'n mid sufTring's fires — O wherefore is it so?* to which Bâyezid replied : Since from eternity to us hath Kingship been decreed, T(i destiny yield'st thou thee not ? O wherefore is it so? " I pilgrim am to Holy Shrine," 'tis thus thou dost declare ; O why then such desire for earthly empire dost thou show? t * Sen bister -i gulda yatasin, shez'q He khandân : Ben kul dushinem kulkhan-i niihnetda, sebeb ne? + Chun Rüz-i ezel qismet olunniush bize dezlet, Taqdtra rizâ vei-meycsin buyle sebeb ne ? Hajju' l-Haremeynim deyipin da^ proi)erly "the Philosopher's Stone," not "elixir." I A 178 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. very fond ; Muhammed suspected this, but not being sure, resolved to put th( Pasha to the test. He ordered the boy's beautiful hair to be cut off, and sen him with a cup of sherbet to the Vezir, who was in the bath. Ahmed, wher he saw the boy shorn of his locks, gave utterance to his sorrow and dismay ir these words : Yon Idol hath removed his locks, his infidelity disclosed ; The Magian hatlı his girdle rent, but yet no Musulman is he ; * which, being reported to the Sultan, at once confirmed his suspicion, and, ii his rage, he ordered his minister to be shut up in the Chamberlain' apartment, there to be put to death. Imprisoned there, in the hope o moving the clemency of the Sultan, Ahmed Pasha composed and sent out t< him his famous Kerem Qasldasi, " Grace Qasida," so called because the won kerem " grace " forms its real/. It commences thus : O a drop from grace's ocean ! thou that art the Main of grace ! Fills thy hand's cloud bounty's flowery garden with the rain of grace. Should the slave do wrong, what harm then if the King of kings forgive ? Were my two hands steeped in blood, blood's dye away were ta'en of grace ! What the grace that can be vanquished, aye, and even slain of sin ! What the sin not to be vanquished, aye, and even slain of grace ? Water drowns not, no, it fosters these things which itself hath reared ; Wherefore then should overwhelm me ruin from the Main of grace? This poetical petition had the desired effect, for Muhammed, who was a soi of Hârûnu-'r-Reshid, was so pleased that he not only forgave the Pasha, bu presented him with the page ; he, however, banished him to Brûsa, with th appointment of director of the legacies of the JMosque of Sultan Murâc After a while he was named Sanjaq-Begi of Sultan-Unu ; and unde * Zulfun oidermish ol sanem kâfirliğin qonar henüz ; Zunnârini kesmish mugbeehe veh Musulman olmamish. BIOGRAPHICAL XOTICES. 179 Muhammed's son and successor, Bâyczid II., he was appointed governor of Brûsa, an otüce whic h he held during the remainder of his life. At one time Ahmed Pasha stood high in the favour of the great Conqueror of Constantinople, who, himself a poet, was always very partial to those who cultivated his favourite art ; he gave him the revenues of the village of Ekmekji near Adrianople, along with one of his slave-girls, called Tûti, '■'■Parrot^' by whom Ahmed had a daughter, who died in childhood Von Hammer, in his History uf the Ottoman Empire, tells the following anecdote, taken from the work of Seyyid Ismâ'il, who is known as " the Rhetorican of Brûsa": One day, when Sultan Muhammed, Ahmed Pasha, and one of the pages of the Seraglio were out riding, annoyed by the dust which blew in their faces, the Pasha repeated the words of the Qur'an : " Would that I were dust ! " * The Sultan, not hearing exactly, asked : " What does he say ? " whereupon the boy, witty as handsome, rejKatcd Ahmed's quotation, but with the words which in the verse come immediately before : " Saith the Kâfir ( " infidel," " scoundrel " ), ' wotild that I were dust ! ' " As already stated, Ahmed Pasha is the first Ottoman lyric poet with any claim to greatness ; but he was soon eclipsed by Nejâti and Zâti, who, in their turn, paled before the brilliancy of Baqi, the sun of 'Osmâni lyric poctr)-. Ahmed's poems lack polish and, still more, originality ; most of them being close imitations, if not indeed translations, of Persian models. N !•: J A T i (914 - 1508), whose real name was 'Isa (/>. Jesus), was, according to Qinali-Zada, born at Adrianople, but brought up at QastamCmi. At Brûsa, where he dwelt with the lyric poet, Ahmed Pasha, whose adventures form the subject of the preceding notice, he gained his first laurels by the comiwition • Qur'.'in, Ixxviii., .\\. i8o BIOCRAPHICAL NOTICES. of two gazcls, imitating, but surpassing in merit, one by a poet called Nûh, which was then much spoken of in the town. His poetical talent began to show itself towards the close of the reign of Sultan Muhammed II., to whose notice he chose a singular method of introducing himself. He wrote a gazd in praise of the Conqueror, and fastened it in the front of the turban of one of that monarch's favourites who was in the habit of playing chess with his master. The first time they seated themselves to play, the Sultan noticed the piece of paper on his friend's turban, took it, read it, and admired it, and forthwith appointed the poet Secretary of the Divan. Shortly after obtainini' this post Nejati dedicated to the Conqueror his Winter Qasida, and, a little later, his Spring Qasida. On the death of Sultan Muhammed he composed a poem of the same class in honour of that monarch's son and successor, Bâyezid II. An extract from all three of these qasidas will be found among the translations from Nejâtî's works in the present volume. Nejati accompanied Bayezid's son, Prince 'Abdu'-llah, to the province (shortly before the kingdom) of Qaraman, of which the latter had been appointed Governor \ and there, on that Prince's death, he wrote an elegy in which occur these lines : O heart ! from out Love's register thy name erase ; Go, be a qalender,* those like thee hermits praise ; Look thou no more upon the world, for from the eyes of him Tears roll, who would straight at the sun's bright visage gaze. Nejati now entered the service of Prince Mahmüd, another of Bayezid's sons, with whom he went to Magnisa in the capacity of nishCitjji. On the occasion of this promotion he composed some lines which begin thus : * A wandering dervish. I BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. i8i That turn of time has changed or altered me, conceive ihou ne'er ; It has but moved a ringlet of its dark musk-shedding hair. The secretary, f'ate, from out of Destiny's Divan Has marked and set me forth as sign before the whnle world's stare. Nejati collected his poems into a Di'u'ân, whit h he dedicated to his master, Prince Mahmüd, at whose suggestion he translated into Turkish Gazili's famous ethical treatise Kivıiyâ-yi Sa^îdef, "The Alchemy of Happiness,"* and Jemâlu'-d-Din Muhammed's historical work, yâ/ni'u' l-Bikâyât ve Lânıi'u-r- Rizi'âydt, " The Collector of Stories and the Illuminator of Traditions." On the death of this Prince, Nejati again wrote an elegy in which are found the words : This world is but the home of pain, sorrow, and decay ; That which they call the court of joy is the palace of dismay. At last a winding-sheet shall shroud us every one : Alike the beggar's lowly plight, the emperor's display. Thus would the grave's mouth cry to thee, had it a tongue lo sj>cak : " False ! vain ! is all that I about this monster dare to say ! " + SuUan Ijûyezid, to whom he brought this elegy, gave him his choice of a public appointment ; but Nejati, who above all things preferred leisure and freedom from business, contented himself with a monthly pension of looo ac/c/iiis. He built himself a house in Constantinoi)le where he lived almost entirely alone. He hail several sons, all of whom died before him, and one daughter, who was married to a distinguished philologist. Nejati was a true poet ; he wrote indeed no tnesnr:is, only i^it-f^i .itul f/astdas, but in these he surpassed all his iircdcccssors, including the friend of his youth, Ahmed Pasha, who till then had been regarded as the greatest of ihc • This has been translatcti into English by Nfi. 11. \. Home», of New York. t It has not dared to tell the whole truth ; the monster \s Death. iSa lUOGKAPniCAL NOTICES. Ottoman lyric poets. His imnicdiatc successor Zâti, if he equalled, which is doubtful, certainly did not surpass him ; it was reserved for Bâ(]i, Sultan of all Turkish lyrists, to excel Nejâtî, even as he had himself excelled all those who had preceded him. Mesih I (918=1512), who was born at Pirishtina, near Uskub, was a poet of high merit, and is held in great repute by the biographers. His strength, like that of Lâmi'î, lies in elegant descriptions of the beauties of nature, but unlike that great poet, he wrote no mesnevts — if we except one shehr-etigiz composed, as this style of poem always is, in the mesfiei'i form — confining himself to gaze/s and the like. According to Qinali-Zada, his takhallus of Mesihi, "Messianic," or "Follower of the Messiah," was well chosen : " it is fit that he should have fame through that name, for his Jesus- like words would raise the dead, and from the channel of his musky reed he caused the Water of Life to flow ; and it is meet that that poet of eloquence should be styled a second Messiah by reason of his soul-nurturing poesies and his verses that life bestow."* He became Secretary of the Divan to the Grand Vezir 'Ali Pasha the Eunuch, who gave him a fief, on the revenues of which he lived. He owed this post to a petition in verse, a qaslda^ a few distichs of which are translated in this book. This poem, in which he showed unmistakable signs of genius, was addressed to the Nishanji Taji- Zâda Ja'fer Chelebi. However, according to the biographer 'Ashiq, on the authority of the poet Nedimi's father, likewise a servant in 'Ali Pasha's employ, Mesihi was very negligent of the duties of his office and much more frequently to be found in taverns and other places of amusement than in the minister's cabinet, which, * See Note 1S9. nrOGRAPIIICAL NOTICES. ,83 on being learned by the Sultan, was the cause of a considerable reduction of the poet's salary. On 'Ali Pasha's death Mesihi sought employment from the Grand \cz\x Yûnus Pasha, and then from Tâji-Zâda Ja'fer Chelcbi, but without success in either case. Zâti, the poet-laureate, who was jealous of Mesihi, charged the latter with having appropriated some of his ideas ; the accusation was conveyed in this form : O Mesihi, who doth honour steal must surely l)c .i thief; Thou art king of verse's city, yet somehow is this thing clear : That from Zâlî's realm of poems certain thoughts have stolen l>ccn, And that these thy Diwan enl'ring, tlierc in altered guise ap})car. Mesihi thus replied : Do not think that I stretch furtii my liand unmeaning thoughts to grasp ; I'm no infant, food by others mashed and chewed that I should cat ; Knowing that the soul within me is to me nought save a loan, For my life each day a thousand times I blush with shame complete. Besides his Dnvafi, Mesihi wrote an Ins/ıâ* called Guli Sad-Betf^^ "The Hundred-Leaved Rose," and, as has been said, a S/if/ir-engiz. H A R I M I : Prince Q o r g i; d (918 = 1512). was son of Bâyczid II. and brother of Selim I. When that fierce monarch prevailed upon his father to abdicate the throne, Prince Ahmed, another brother, raised the standard of revolt, with the result of his own defeat and death, besides affording Sclim an excuse for ordering the execution of his five nephews. When Prince Qorqud in his government of Sari-Khan heard the tidings of this massacre, he knew what was sure to be Seliin's purpose regarding himself, and trietl hart! to gain * A collection of cpKtol.iiy fornix. iS4 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. to liis side the janissaries and Sanjaq-Begis, vainly hoping to ward off the coming blow. Selim heard of his attempt, and, professing to go upon a hunting expedition, arrived suddenly with a formidable body of horsemen before Magnisa, the capital of Qorqud's province. The Prince had barely time to escape with a single attendant and take refuge in the hills. After hiding among the rocks for twenty days, their retreat was discovered by some Turkmans, who informed the Imperial officers. No sooner was the Sultan made aware of the discovery of his brother than he ordered Sinan, the Qapiji BdsJii, or Grand Chamberlain, the officer of the Imperial Court in whose charge is the bow-string, to go and perform his duty. Sinan arrived in the middle of the night, awakened Qorqud, and announced to him the death- sentence passed upon him by the Sultan ; the Prince asked for an hour's respite, which, being granted, he occupied in writing a letter in verse to his brother, in which he bitterly reproached him for his cruelty ; and then gave his neck to the fatal cord. Qorqud, though not possessing the talent of his uncle Prince Jem, was nevertheless a fair poet ; he was besides well versed in Muslim Law and compiled a highly valued collection of Fetwas, called Qorqudiyya ; he encouraged poets aud legists by every means in his power, filling many of the offices of his provincial court with men of letters; he was, moreover, very fond of music, and composed an air known as Gada-yi RFih. ''The Nourishment of the Soul." M I H R Î (920 = 15 14 ca.) was a poetess of Amâsiya, whose gazels, breathing ardent love, fully justify her iak/ia/lus, which means at once '' Follower of Love" and " I'oUower of the Sun." Von Hammer styles her the Ottoman Sappho. She was deeply in love with the fair iskender Chelebi, son of Sinan BlOGRAPiriCAL XOTICES. 185 Pasha, whom she frequently alludes to— sometimes even mentions by name- in her verses. The ^ır^.t of her poems in lliis İK)ok is an example. Though she thus sang aloud her love, the voice of slander was never raised against her : she was as famed for virtue as for talent. She carried on a litcrar)- correspondence with several of the poets of her time, notably with Z.1ti and Guvâhî, to the latter of whom she dedicated a poem, thanking him for all his kindnesses towards her. She appears never to have been married. The biographers do not mention the year of her death. Selîmİ: Sultan S e i. î m I. (926 = 1520) ascended the throne in the year 918 (15 12), on the abdication of his father, Bâyezid II. Like his grandfather, Muhammed II., Selim was a great warrior; in a short reign of less than nine years he doubled the e.xtent of the Ottoman Empire. At first he spared his brothers, but some of them, revolting against him, were defeated, captured, and executed. His first great foreign victor)' was on the field of Châldirân, where he totally defeated Shah Ismâ'il and the rhivalr)- of Persia, He afterwards led his victorious legions to Cairo, overthrew the Circassian dynasty of the Memlûks, and added Egyjjt with its de|H.'ndencics, Syria and Hijâz, to the Ottoman dominions. Selim I. is the only Ottoman Sultan who shaved his beard after ascending the throne ; the Imperial Princes wear only moustaches, but whenever one succeeds to the throne, he lets the whole beard grow. On being asked by a Mufti why he departed from the established custom, Selim facetiously replied that he shaved his tieard in order that his ve/irs might not find anything whereby to lead him. This Sultan changed, likewise, the ImiKfial turban ; he abandoned the jjointed cap, the top of which apjK^arcd al>ovc ihc lur- rounding shawl, that had been worn by his predecessors, and adoptcti in Ws 2 \; 1 86 n/OGUAP///CA/. NOTICES. ■ place a head-dress modelled after the tiara of the ancient Kings of Persia. This turban received the name of Sfiinii, " Selîmean." A glance at the l)ortraits of Muhaninied II. and Selim I. in this volume will show the differ- ence between the two head-dresses. Sultan Selim I., though often fierce and ruthle.ss, was a great lover of literature and patron of men of learning. He left a Dlwan of poems in the Persian language, whic h, fur literary ]Jurposes, he seems to have jtreferred to Turkish. By his conquest of Egypt, Selim gained the Khalifate for the House of 'Osman. Khalifa (Caliph), i.e. "Successor of the I'rophet in the government of the Muslims," is properly an elective, not a hereditary, office. The titular Khalifa of the Muslim world at this time was a descendant of the House of 'Abbas, who was resident in Cairo when that city was taken by Selim. An arrangement, at once recognised by the Qureyshi Sherif of Mekka, was arrived at between this Prince and the Sultan, whereby the former conferred upon Selim the rank and title of Khalifa, together with all the influence which that office commands. The title of Khalifa has ever since been borne by the Sultans of Constantinople, and their claim thereto is, and ever has been, acknowledged by the world of Sunni Islam : Morocco, Masqit. and Zanzibar alone excepted.* Muhibbi: S u l t .\ n Süleyman I. (974= 1566), surnamed Qatmni, "the Lawgiver," the most illustrious of the Ottoman monarchs, succeeded his father, Selim, the conqueror of Egy])t, in 926 (1520). It would occupy too much space to recount the many glories of Suley man's * See Mr. Redhouse's " Vindication of the Ottoman Sultan's Title of Caliph." London : Effîngham Wilson. 1S77. niOGRAPlIICAL NOTICES. 187 reign. The people, weary of the vexatious severity of Sclitn, hailed with delight the accession of a prince known to be at once generous and brave : they saw in his name— that of the greatest of the Jewish Kings— a happy- augury, and they were not deceived. His first military exploits were the reduction of Belgrade and the capture of Rhodes, two strongholds which had foiled even his illustrious ancestor, Muhainmed II. Then followed the subjugation of Hungary, the king of wliich country died with all his ( hivalry on the battlefield of Mohacz. Three years later the Sultan laid siege to Vienna ; but not even his happy star and the valour of the Ottomans pre- vailed to capture that famous city. Suleymân's attention was not, however, confined to Christian foes ; he led several expeditions against I'cn;ia, and added Erivan, Van, Mosul, and Bagdad to his empire. These were likewise halcyon days for the Turks upon the seas: the crescent flag waved proudly over the blue waters of the Mediterranean, and the Christian mariners trembled when they heard the name of 'I'orgud, who, after a glorious career, died, with countless others of the Inrleagucring Ottomans, on the blood-stained shores of Malta ; or of l'iyâlâ I'asha, who announced his victory at Jerba by a vessel which entered the Ciolden Horn with the high standard of Spain trailing in the sea from the stern. Hut no Ottoman Qapudan * ever inspired the foes of Islam with greater terror, or rendered his sovereign more valuable services, than Khayru-'d-Din I'asha, whom the Italians called the Corsair Harbarossa; — Tripoli, Tunis, and Algiers were added by him to the Sultan's dominions. The .\dmiral Sidi 'Ali planted the Ottoman standard on the shores of India. This Sidi 'Ali was a poet and a man of science as well as a sailor ; several works by • From the It.nlian capitattii, .i n.ival captain ; the Lord High Admiral i» called Qn/ma'am fasfia. iS8 niOGRArmCAL NOTICES. him on geography, mathematics, and navigation still remain. Süleyman died in his tent before S/.igcth, in Hungary, a few days too soon to hear the glad tidings of that stronghold's fall. This monarch is perhaps the brightest ornament of the Hou.se of 'Osman ; he was endowed with almost every quality which goes to make a great sovereign : a soul noble and generous ; a genius vast and enterprising ; war- like courage ; love of justice ; and respect for humanity. His greatest weakness was his blind passion for the Russian slave-girl Khurrem, who was all unworthy of her master's devotion ; it was through her intrigues that, led to believe his gifted and noble-minded son, Mustafa, was about to rise in revolt against his authority, he gave the order for his execution, and, in so doing, deprived Turkey of one who bade fair to be amongst her most illustrious sovereigns. Among the brightest jewels in Suleyman's crown is the encouragement which he always extended to letters ; his reign is the golden era of his nation's literature. A poet himself, as well as a friend of poets, he has left a Dhuân oî gazels^ in which he takes the name of Muhibbi. Süleyman I. had a grave, calm cast of countenance, a high, wide forehead, and rather dark skin. He modified the head-dress adopted by his father, Selim I., making it higher and not so round; it was surmounted by two heron plumes, and the point of the cap was visible above the muslin that formed the turban. This fashion of head-dress is called Yûsuf î, "Josephean," probably after the patriarch Joseph, who is a type of wisdom as well as of beauty. FiG.\Ni (933 = 1526), of Qaraman, was a secretary to Prince 'Abdu-'llâh, one of Sultan Bayezid's sons. The most noteworthy incident in his career is its close. When the Grand Vezir Ibrahim returned from the capture of Ofen. BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. 189 amongst the spoils that he brought to Constantinople were certain statues which had adorned the royal palace of the Hungarian city; these statues, which the Turks looked upon as idols, were set up in the Hipixidromc in front of Ibrahim's mansion. Figânı, playing on the Vezir's name Ibrahim, the Oriental form of Abraham, and referring to the well-known story in the Qur'an where that patriarch destroys his father's idols, composed this couplet : Two IhrS.hims have upon the earth appearcfl ; Idols were o erthrown by one, by one uprearcii.* This witticism cost the poet dear ; for the offended Vezir caused him to be paraded through the streets of Constantinople on the back of a donkey with his face towards its tail, and then put to death, ligâni wrote an Iskemicr- Nama, and a I/c/i-Pey/cer, " Seven Faces," in imitation of Nizâmi's poems of the sanie names. Lam I'i (938 - 1531)» one of the very best and, at the same lime, most fruitful writers of the Ottomans, jiassed, .so far as we know, a cjuiet and uneventful life ; all his time and attention .seem to have been sedulously devoted to study, and very great indeed is the success which he achieved in the domain of jjoesy. In grace and originality his poetry almost rivals that of Baqi, while it far exceeds it in cjuantity. jMuhammcd bin-'Osmfui-bin-Naqqash (which is I/mii'i's name in full) was born in r.riisa. The word Naqqas/t, which means both " jiainter " and "embroiderer," may in this instance bear either signification, indeed it was probably chosen on that a( count ; for we are told that the grandfather of the • £>u Ibrahim âmtd tf-dtyr-i jihân ; Yfk hut-skitrn sfiuii diçrr htt-nithdn. 190 lUOGRAPllICAL NOTICES. poet, besides being a celebrated painter, studied the art of embroidery in Senier(]and, and brought thenre into Turkey the first embroidered saddle. Alter studying for a time in iiis native city (we do not hear that he ever left it), Lâmi'i turned his thoughts to the mystic doctrines of the dervishes, and entering the Naqishbendi Order, was for long a discij^le of the Sheykh Seyyid Ahmed Hukhari ; eventually he became himself the 1 )crvish-Sheykh of Brûsa. Amongst his prose writings are : translations of Jami's famous work, Nefixlmtu-l-Uns, "Breaths of Friendship," under the title of Futûhıı-sh- Shâhidln fi Tet7'l/ii-I-QiilF/l)i-i-Miija/ndvt, " Disclosures of the Witnesses for Perfuming the Hearts of the Champions," and of the same author's Sheu'âhidıı- n-Niibuvvet^ " Witness-bearers of the Apostleship." He likewise translated into Turkisli the S/ierrfu-I-Iiisan, " The Nobility of Man," Fettâhi of Nishâpûr's mystic romance Husii u Dil, " Beauty and Heart," * and a collection of anecdotes, called ^Ibret-nıımâ, " Example-Shewer." Instead of choosing as subjects for his mcsncvls the oft told stories of Leyli and Mejnun, Yûsuf and Z.uleykhâ, and Khusrev and Shirin, Lâmi'i selected three of the most ancient romances of Persia as the threads upon which to weave the web of his poetrj' : Wamiq and 'ylzrj, Veysa and Ram'tn, and EbsCil and Selâmân are, all three, tales belonging to a remote antiquity; indeed some see in Wamiq the old Hindu poet Vâlmiki, and in Veysa the sage Vyâsa. Among other jioetical works are : a Shehr-cuglz of Brûsa, S/iem' ii Penvâna^ " The Taper and the Moth," GTi ii C/ıcî'gân, " The Ball and Bat," Hcft-Peyker, "The Seven Faces," and Maqtcl-i Htiscyn, "The ^Lirtyrdom of Huseyn." Besides all these, Lâmi'i left a large Drwan of gazels, çasldas, and such like ; and, at the command of Sultan Süleyman, translated the Persian poets Ansâri * Translated into English by Price, 1S27. FUOGKArniCAI. NOTICES. tçi and Jurjâni. In jirose and verse he composed two Muttâzaröts or "Disputes," one between Atfs u Kiili, " Mesh and Spirit," the other, IVdiu which our extracts are taken, between Bch'ir u K/ıizân, "Spring and Autumn." Von Hammer devotes 174 i)ages of his History to this poet and his works, Kemâl P a s h a-Z A d a (94 1 = 1 534). Ahmed the son of Kemâl Pasha is a writer of great note in the annals of Ottoman literature. One day, while still a boy, he accompanied his father, who was a pasha of eminence under Mulianinied H., to the (irand \'e/.ir's divan, when the son of one of the foremost men of the Empire, Ahmed Evrenos-Oglu (a famous name, this Evrenos, in old Turkish histor)), entered the councilior\ of th.it lounlrv he w.is .ibout to roni|Ucr. 192 tilOGRAFinCAl. NOTICES. The biographers have preserved many stories of Kemâl Pasha-Zâda's ready wit and clever answers, one of which, related by Qinali-Zada, will suffice here. One day when Sultan Selim, with the poet in his retinue, was passing by Qaraman, he observed a whirlwind, whereupon he enquired whether there was any reason for the frequency of whirlwinds in the land of Qaraman. "The capital of this province of Qaraman," answered Ahmed, " is Qonya, there dwelt Mevlânâ Jelâlu-'d-Din, and therefore do the very hills and stones and dust of this land perform the Mevlevi dance." Ahmed Kemâl Pasha-Zâda lies buried at Constantinople, outside the Adrianople Gate. He left a collection of historical anecdotes, called the Nigârîstân, "The Picture Galler)-," also a poem on the favourite subject of Yûsuf and Zuleykha. which is regarded as his master-work. Gazâlî (941 = 1534) is the takhallus of Muhammed Chelebi, a distinguished poet of Brüsa, whose jovial but dissolute habits gained for him the nickname Deli Birader, " Mad Brother." He commenced his career as a ftiiiderris, or teacher, at the medresa of Sultan Bâyezid in his native city ; but being introduced to Qorqud, the gifted but unfortunate son of Bâyezid H., he entered the circle of that Prince's boon companions, and was one of those who accompanied him on his mission to Egypt. On the execution of his patron, Gazâlî retired to a cell at the foot of Olympus, near his native Brüsa, and there, for a time, devoted himself to the solitary life of a dervish. But tiring of seclusion, he again sought office, and was api)ointed professor at various colleges, one after another ; finding teaching, however, as little suited to his taste as meditation, he wrote a petition to the Sultan and received a monthly allowance of 1000 açchas. He then took up his abode at Beshik-Tash on the Bosphorus, where he built a mosque, a cell, and a bath. His patron at this BIOGRAPIIICAI. A'OT/CF.S. «93 time was the Defterdar iskender Chelebi, on whose death he deemed it best to retire to Mekka, where he built a mosque, and laid out a garden, in which he entertained pilgrims and lived pleasantly till his death. He is buried in the Sacred City, in the court of his own moscjue. Gazali wrote for Prince Qorqud a work entitled Dâj't'u- l-Hummiim ve Râfi'u-'l-Gummum, "The Dispeller of Cares and the Remover of Griefs," which was so licentious that the Prince dismissed the author from his court The bath which he afterwards built at Constantinople was a meeting-place for all the dissolute and profligate of the capital, and a den of every vice ; in consequence of which the Grand \'ezir Ibrahim Pasha, as soon as he heard of the way in which it was conducted, sent a hundred janissaries who levelled it with the ground. Shortly afterwards. Deli Birader got himself into another difficulty which necessitated his journey to Ara!)ia. ! This poet was not without talent ; he was a beautiful calligraphist, under- stood music, had a ready store of wit, and knew something of medicine. In the gardens of his bath (for the building of which the Sultan as well as the \V/ir, who afterwards pulled it down, had subscribed) he |»rovided all manner of [pleasures for his guests ; fruits, sweetmeats, coffee, opium, and all the other delights of the Eastern voluptuary were there in abundance. I s H .\ Q C H K I. K I! I (944 - 153?), the son of a sword-cutler of Uskub, was noted for his drunken and abandoned life. Along with two other ix>cts he was summoned to attend Sultan Sclim on his Egyptian cami^ign, in order to aiiord some amusement to that monarch during the tedious march : but so awkwardly did Ishâc] and his companions behave themselves on their introduc- !i .11 to Sclim. even i)ushing him with their swords, that that |X>ssionatc Sultan tcred them to be beheaded with their own unmanageable wea|K)ns. This I 194 BlOGRArinCAL NOTICES. sentcnrc, however, he immediately rommuted to the bastinado. The next day, again summoned to the Imperial presence, the three, in unseemly ragged garments, came before the Sultan : thinking to amuse him, they began to repeat ribald verses, \vhereu|)on Selim turned his back on them, saying : " I desired companions, not buffoons." Zatî (953= 1546), one of the poetic lights of the reigns of Bâyezid II. and Selim I., was born in the province of Qarasi, where his father followed the occupation of a shoemaker. The youthful poet, not relishing his father'- trade, set out for Constantino])le, where, after many struggles, he succeeded in making his fortune. During the early period of his life in the capital, he used to sell his poems to gain his daily bread, and to further eke out his livelihood, he exercised the calling of a geomancer, or diviner by means of figures traced in sand. On some of his writings coming into the hands ol Sultan Bâyezid and his ministers, Zati's abilities were recognised, and he was forthwith suitably provided for. During the reigns of Bâyezid and his son Selim, Zâti enjoyed the favour of the great ; but the second of these sovereigns had an unamiable fancy for executing his ministers, and Zâtî's patrons were put to death with the rest; in consequence of which the poet found himself, on the accession of Süleyman, without a friend. Certain fiefs had been made over to him by Sultan Bâyezid, on the revenues of which he lived ; but early in Suleymân's reign a decree was issued requiring all who did not render military service to give up their holdings ; so in his old age Zâti was left once more resourceless. He again had recourse to geomancy ; but he died in a few months, and was buried by the Adrianople Gate, where so many poets rest. Of Zati's lengthy poems may be mentioned. Shem'' u Pencâna, "The Taper lUOGRAPHlCAL AOT/Cf.S. •95 and the Moth/' FenuIJi Nâma, " The Book of Tcrrukh," \-is/iiq u Afa^shinf, "The Lover and the l.oved," and Gul u Sr^-Iiuz, "The Rose and the New- Year." LuTFf (957 = 1550), the (]rand \'e/.ir and brother-in-law of Sultan ! Süleyman, was by birth an Albanian. Unlike his | iredecessor, .\yâi: Pasha, . I.utfl Tasha entertained a profound contempt for women. .\ ([uarrel with his wife, in which he was guilty of outrageous misconduct, occasioned his dis- grace. ■ Süleyman, highly displeased, took the Princess away from him, dismissed him from office, and banished him to I )cmitoka, where he died. Lutfi wiote several works during his e.xile, conspicuous among which is a history of the Ottoman Empire brought down to twelve years before his own fall. M u K H I, I s i : r R I N c K M f S r A V .\ (960 = 1552). This Prince, whom all accounts represent as being talented, courageous, gencrou.s, and refined, was heir to Sulcynian's throne, having been born before any of the children of the slave-girl Khurrem. That crafty Russian, desirous of securing the succcv sion for her own son Sehm, contrived, in collusion with her son-in law the Grand Vezir Rustem Pasha, to persuade the Sultan, when on the |>oini of setting out on a Persian cam])aign, that Mustafa was about to head a revolt for the purpose of phu ing himself upon the throne, and that the only way lo secure his crown during his absence was to (rush the germ of the evil by ihc execution of his son. Süleyman most unhappily fell into the snare; it «a» the great mistake of his life : it took the rems of the empire from the hands of a brave and skilful .soldier and placed them in those of a wretched profligate. When the army reached ICregli on its eastward march. Prince .Mu»tala wa« 196 BIOGRAPHICAL NOT ICES. conducted to one of the Imperial tents, and there, instead of being received in audience by his father as he expected, he was set upon by the Mutes, the private executioners of the Imperial Court, and strangled. K H 1 Y A I, I (964 = 1556), a native of Asia Minor, came to Constantinople as a qalender of the Order of Baba 'Ali. He found a patron in the Defterdar iskender Chelebi, who introduced him to Ibrahim I'asha, the (>rand Vezir, through whose influence he gained admission to the innermost circle of Sultan Suleymân's companions. He excused the silence which he displayed when before the great Padishah and his favourites, the most illustrious poets of the golden period of Ottoman literature, with these lines : To such a lofty circle hath Khiyâli entrance gained, That there the rose of Eden had for shame unoped remained. ShAhî: Prince BâvezId (969 = 1561), one of the sons of Sultan Süleyman I., who, after the murder of the unfortunate Mustafa, led astray by the treacherous promptings of his tutor I^âlâ Mustafa, sought to oppose the succession of his brother Selim. He raised an army wherewith to make good his claim ; but being totally defeated on the plain of Qonya, fled into Persia. There he was at first kindly received, but the Shah, pressed by the Sultan, whose mind was poisoned against his son by lying stories and dark intrigues, gave up the hapless refugee to the Ottoman messengers, by whom he and his followers were put to death. This Prince is described as being most amiable and accomplished, and beloved by the people and the soldiery, many of the latter accompanying him in his Persian exile, where they shared his fate. FuzClî (970= 1562), of Bagdad, is one of the ten great poets of Sultan Suleymân's reign. The biographers give no particulars of his life, save that '] BIOGRAPHICAL XOTICES. 197 he was resident in Bagdad wlun that city was taken by the Ottomans under Süleyman. Judging from the great number of words and phrases belonging to the I'ersian Turkish dialect that are to be met with in his iioems, Fuzuh would seem to have been an Azerbâyjâni Turk. The fa|>osi- tion ; for before its capture by Süleyman that city had formed |»art of the dominions of the Shah of Persia. Fuzûli's Leyli and Mejnûn contains many touching passages of great iK-auty; and his DiwCin is distinguished, even among those of Turkish |)Oets, by its flowery and jncturesque imagery; the reader frecjuently comes u|x>n i>a.ssagcs of great profundity, which prove the writer to have been an earnest thinker and a learned scholar as well as an elegant poet. He translated the famous I'ersian work of Huseyn Kâshifi on the death of 'Ali and his sons, entitled Ra'i'zatu- sh-Shtilutiii, "The Parterre of ilie Martyrs," into beautiful prose, under the name Hadhjatii-s-Su^xiia, "The (larden of the HIcst." He further wrote a mystic poem called Beiv^ u Bâda, "0|iium and Wine." Fa;; Li (971 - 1563) — whose real name was Muhammed — nicknamed Qara Faz/i, " Black Fazli," was son of a saddler of Constantinople. In youth he was a dervish of the Khalveti Order, and in civil occu|>ation a clerk ; his love of poetry, however, attracted him first to Ncjdll, and then to the poct-laurcatc, Zâti, whose disciple he l)ecamc. At the great festival with whi( h Sultan Süleyman I. celebrated the circumcision of his three sons Muhammed, Mustafa, and Selim, /âti, after reciting a çaslda of his own, reciuested permission to recite one by his pupil Fa/Ii. SuleymAn recognised and appreciated the .student's talent, and when Trinre Muhammed «a» shortly afterwards appointed governor of Magnisa. Ta/h arcomjunjed him as 198 hlüGRÂPinCAL NOTICES. Secretary of Divan. On the death of Muhammed, FazM became Secretary t' Prince Mustafa (whose brief career has already been noticed), with whom he remained till his tragic end. He then entered the service of Prince Selim (afterwards Sultan Selim II.), who, in the year 970 (1562), appointed him Secretary of State. Next year Fazli died at Kûtâhiya, aged about 50. Fazli wrote a romantic poem, entitled J/umat and Hümâyûn, founded on a Persian model. Two others of his works are imitations of the Persian, MatUvii-l Enviir, "The Rising Point of Lights," modelled after Nizâmi's Lujjdn-1-Esrâr. "The Ocean of Secrets," and the Nakh/istân, "The Palm- Grove," after Sa'di's famous Gülistan, " Rose-Garden." He wrote besides, qazels, çasıJas, and ruba Is. The gem of his works, and his chief title to glory, is his romantic poem Gul u Bulbul, "The Rose and the Nightingale," the simple but imp.assioned story of which is clad in the richest and most beautiful language. In this work, called by Von Hammer his swan-song, for he finished it but two years before his death, he is in no way indebted to any Persian or Arab master ; it is a genuine Ottoman poem, original alike in conception and expression. NısHÂNî (975 = 1567), Jelâl-Zâda Mustafa, was the great historian of Suleyman's reign, during which he occupied some of the highest offices ot state. He was an eye-witness of many of the events recorded in his history. In 1524 he was promoted to the rank of Re'is Efendi, and, ten years later, in the Bagdad campaign, to that of Nishânji, or " Cipher-writer to the Sultan," this office still exists in Turkey, but the holder is now called Tugra-kesh* Nishani is another form of Nishânji, and its employment here oflfers an * Sec Mr. \V. A. Clouston's " Arabian Tcetıy for English Readers," page 434. BIOGRAPHIC A I. NOTICES. ,99 exanii)le of a poet choosin;^ liis tiikhalltis from his occupation, not an uncouinioii tiling, as \vc have seen in the Introduction. Selimi: Siiltan S ki. i m II. (9X2 1574). One dav, near the beginning of the First Rebi' of the year 974 (Sei)tember, 1566), the cannons of Leander's Tower announced to the peoi)le of Constantinople thai the great Süleyman was no more, and tiiai his son Selim was Sultan in his stead — very bad news. h;ul they known it. Selim's mother was the Russian slave-girl known by the Persian name of Khurrem. "day,"* who had gained a great and pernicious inlluenc e over her master, and, after a scries of dark and cruel intrigues, culminating in the murder of the gallant Prince .Mustafa, had managed to secure the succession for her son. The character of this son »as the very 0])posite to that of his illustrious father. A dissolute drunkard, who, instead of attending to the affairs of his empire, shut himself up in his harem. Selim II. is notable in history a> the first Ottoman Sultan who shrank from leading hi:- armies in person. lUit the empire of Muhammcd the Conqueror and Süleyman the Lawgiver was too strongly built to fall to pieces even under the rule of so efTeminate a sovereign ; it maintained all its splendour and even extended its limits by the concjuest of (!yprus from the Venetians; the wine of the island is said to have been the attraction in the eyes of the despicable semi-Russian Sultan. Towards the < lose of his reign a combination of all the Christian powers f)f the .Mediterranean gained a nava' victor)- over the Ottomans at l.c|)anto. Although these Christians made a great noise about this, it was for them but a barren triumph ; for when, a year or two Liter, the Venetians sued for peace, they had not only to .ngree to the retention of Cyprus by the Sultan, but to pay him all the ev|K"n-<-^ «if ih.' .i.n.nust • lûııopc.Tn* c.nll lirr KoxrUtu. 2CX) JilOCRArillCAI. A'OT/CES. S H K M s F V A s M A (988 - 1580). the confidant and governor of the palace of Selini II. ami Muiad III., wa.s horn in Hungary. He was the last scion of the House of (Jizil-Ahmedli, which, on the partition of the SeljQqi Em])ire, had reigned on the southern coast of the Black Sea. This family — whose lands, like those of all the other petty Turkish chiefs in these parts, had been swallowed up by the ever-growing Empire of Orkhan and his successors — traced its descent from Khâlid-bin-Velid, the famous general of the Khalifa 'Osman. Shemsi, whose talents had brought him under the notice of Sultan Süleyman, became the intimate friend of Selim H., and under Murad HI. he grew to be one of the most powerful men in the Empire. He is notorious as the introducer of corru])tion among the high ofificers of the Ottoman State. The historian 'Ali relates, that one day, when Shemsi was coming out of his cabinet, he heard him say with joy to his kyahya (steward) : " At length have I avenged the dynasty of Qizil-Ahmedli on that of 'Osman ; if the latter has brought about our ruin, I have prepared its too." " How?" asked the aged kyahya. The minister replied : '' By inducing the Sultan to sell his favours ; to-day the Sultan will himself set the example of corruption ; and corruption will destroy the empire." 'Ali, not very prudently, remarked : " Your Excellency is indeed the worthy descendant of your glorious ancestor, Khâlid- bin-Velid, who, as history tells us, gave to the chamberlain of the Khalifa 'Osman two pieces of gold to be introduced to his master before his antagonist ; and was thus the first to bring corruption into Islam." Shemsi Pasha merely bent his head and said : '' You know many things, 'Ali." Yahva Beg (990= 1582) was an .\lbanian janissary who devoted himself with success to literature. He had the courage to compose an elegy j on his friend iskender Chelebi, put to death by the Grand Vezir Ibrahim, and PylOGRAPHJCAL NO J ICES. 301 the still greater audacity to write another, bewailing Prince Mustafa, executed by order of his fatlier, Sultan Süleyman. This last one, coming to the knowledge of the Grand Vezir Rusteni Pasha, Ibrahim's successor, and an enemy to all poets, he reported it to the Sultan, at the same lime advising him to put Yahya to death ; but this Süleyman refused to do. Ruslem then summoned the poet-officer to the Imperial presence, hoping to make him say something which would offend the Sulian. " What meanest thou," asked the Vezir, " by undertaking to censure the death-sentence on Mustafa, and degrading the deeds of the Padishah before the people ? " Vahya answered : " With the Padishah's judgment have we judged the Prince ; but with those who wept his death have we wept." Though unable to bring about his death, Rustem succeeded in procuring his dismissal from the jKJSts he held under Government; later on, however, he received a large fief of 27,000 aqchas. He used to fretiuent the parties of learned men and was acquainted with many of the great writers of his day ; amongst others with the i)oet Khiyâlı, with whom he had a quarrel, arising from that author's charging him with the appropriation of certain of his verses. When 'Ashitj wrote his biographical work, Yahya was with " the Heroes of the Faith fighting the Holy War al Temeswar." He wrote several poetical works besides the Shah u G^tiâ, of which the best known are, the Usül-Nâma, the Gcnjitui'-i A\iz, "The Casket of Mysticism," and a Yusuf and Zuleykha. MuRADi: Sultan Mukai- III. (1003=1595), who succeeded his father. Selim II., in 982 (1574), was a mild and well-meaning prince, but destitute of those high qualities which are neccssar>- for the guidancejof a mighty empire. His favourite wife, Sfifiyya, a Venetian lady of the noble 2 u 202 liIOGRAPJIICAL NOTICES. house of Baflb, who had been cajitured by Turkish cruisers along with three other women, one of whom was Murâd's mother, had the chief voice in the direction of the Imperial affairs. The most prominent features of his reign were wars with Persia and Austria, and the rapid progress of corruption and military insubordination. Murâd III. — unworthy namesake of the valiant Khudâvendigâr, who died by an assassin's hand on the plain of Kosova after laying the pride of Servia in the dust — found his chief pleasure in the society of his ladies and eunuchs, jesters and dancers. Though a voluptuary, he was a protector of poets and philosophers, with whom he was fond of conversing. His own poems are mostly religious or mystical, and he is remarkable as the only one of the Ottoman Sultans who has written an ascetic work. On the morning of the last day of his life, he was lying in a beautiful kiosque that looked out upon the Bosphorus, watching the vessels sailing to and fro, when, feeling the presentiment of approaching death, contrary to his custom of allowing his minstrels to choose what airs they pleased, he told them to play I him that one, of which the appropriate words commence thus : i I am sick, O Death, this night come thou and watch keep by my side ; * J 1 just then two Egyptian galleys arrived and saluted the Seat of Empire ; the j glass dome of the kiosque where the dying Sultan lay was shattered by their ^ cannon-fire. " Formerly," said Murâd, bitterly weeping, " the salute of all the : fleet would not have broken this glass, which now falls at the noise of [; the cannon of these galleys : thus is it with the kiosque of my life." BAgi (1008=1600), whose full name was Mahmûd 'Abdu-'1-Bâqî, is, according to the unanimous verdict of the Ottoman critics, the greatest lyric * Blmârifn, ey EJel, bu geje bekle yauimda. BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES. »3 poet that their nation has produced. Part of his DUoCxn has been translated into German by Vun Hammer : when that illustrious Orientalist published this translation, he was under the impression that it comprised the whole of Baqi's poems ; but, as he afterwards pointed out in his Gfsc/ıühU tier Osmanischeii Dichlkunst., it really contains less than half of the great Ottoman poet's works, the manuscripts which he made use of being vcr)' im|)erfcct. Baqi was born in Constantinople in the year 933 (1526). His father, who was Mu'czzi/t, or summoner to i)rayer, at the Mosque of Muhammed the Conqueror, died in 973 (1565), whilst on the pilgrimage to Mckka. In his youth Baqi was a saddler, but he soon gave up this trade to devote himself to literature. He entered the ser\ice of Qaranulni-Zada Muhammed Efendi, to whom he dedicated his Hyacinth Qasida. His verses soon attracted the attention of Sultan Süleyman, who conceived a great esteem for him, conferred uj)on him many favours, and even wrote a i)oem in his honour. Under Selim H. Baqi rose to even greater eminence ; but during the reign of Murad 111., certain of his rivals i)rocured a gazel, by an old writer called Nâmi, in whi( h the jioct openly avows his love of wine ; this they altered» by substituting Bacji's name, for that of Nami, and brought it to Murjid, saying, that the highly-favoured poet had composed it for Selim H., who was by no means a strict Muslim. The enraged Sultan dismissed HAqi from office and ordered him to be banished ; however, before the sentence of exile was earned out, the giizcl in (iuesii(jn was found in an old collection of Nilmrs locms, and Bâ(ii was pardoned and reinstated in his position. On (juitling his trade as a .saddler, BrKji had studied I»iw, and he gradually rose in ihc profc»ion till he attained the highest legal i)osition in the Empire. This celebrated |)OCl died on Friday, 23 Ramazân, 1008 (11 April, 1600). The Shcykhu 'IMAm recited the burial-service over his remains in the Mosque of Muhammed the 204 r>JVGKAr/f/CA/. NOTICES. Conqueror, where his father had been Mu'ezzin; and they buried him outside the Adrianople Gate, on the way to the suburb of Eyyûb, QinaH-Zada says, the first verses that brought Baqi into notice were these : When the niem'ry of ihc fair one's cheek across my heart flf)th stray, Beams it brightly as rcdectcd sunbeams in the mirror play. Should I (lie through longing for the form of yonder Cypress fair, Where the juniper shall shade me, in some spot, I pray, me lay. For this reason go I never to thy ward, that weeping sore. Fear I, O my Life, my tears should wet the dust that lines thy way. The same biographer gives the following story, referring to the above poem, from the mouth of Baqi himself: "When I brought this ^a^*?/ to Mevlânâ Zâti, the chief of the Roman * poets of the time, he refused to believe that this fair poem was the offspring of my genius, I being very young. Throwing gems of advice from the mine, his heart, and scattering pearls of counsel from the shell, his soul, he said : ' If, like the plane tree, thou stretchest forth thy hand to the pocket of the words of other peoj-de and to the treasury of their verses, there is no doubt that the constable, Fate, will cut off the hand,t thy being; nor is there any uncertainty that he whose thoughts, his brides, thou through violence pressest to thy breast, will make thee the object of punishment and castigation.' I through bashfulness and confusion had no power to utter many words, and could only say : ' No, the verses are my own.' Then he showed me some places in his own Dlwan^ and, to try me, asked: 'Which are the spots of elegance, the nooks of grace ? ' As I had ever applied the finger of criticism to the pages of his poems, I pointed out with my finger the nooks of elegance in these verses. Although from this reception perfect confusion * See Notes 64 and 259. + Alluding metaphorically to the punishment of thieves in Muslim countries by cutting off ' the hand. \ I niOGRAPIIICAI. NOTICES. »S overcame me, still in my heart I rejoiced for that my verses had been worthy of accci)tance and had attained the rank of aj)|)robation. When hereafter I brought him two gazels, he gave them perfect credence, and, from the depths of his heart, bestowed numberless blessings and scattered the jewels of approval." By-and-by Zâti himself took a distich of B;uji's as the foundatitm for a gazel, saying, that it was no shame to steal from such a i)oel. A marginal note in Von Hammer's copy of Qinali-Zada says that the following Persian distich was engraved on Bâ(ji's seal, the impression of which is found on several legal documents : Fleeting is the e.irth, therein no faith lies ; Hk (loth alone endure, all else dies.* Baqi has never lacked admirers ; during his lifetime he was the valued friend of four Sultans, Süleyman I., Selim II., Murâd III., and Muhammcd III., one of these, Süleyman, the most magnificent em|)eror of the Ottomans and one of the greatest sovereigns the world has ever known ; he filled, as wc have seen, some of the highest offices of state, and all the |K>cts of his lime, even Zâti himself, acknowledged him as master ;— the later critics and biogra])hers cannot find words to express their admiration ; and so long as Ottoman literature shall exist, one of its most brilliant ornaments must he that poet whose very name signifies Enduring. 'AdiJ: Sult.xn Mvhammii» III. (1012=1603), son of MurAd 111. •The Persian of this verse, which, as Von Hammer says, wuuhl do equally »ell ivx the seal of a Fanny, is : /■tlutsl jihân lUrû wefa nisl,—l1ivân ; and three years later he marched tVom Constantinople to redeem Bagdad from the Persians. We are told that at Mosul he received an Indian ambassador, who brought him, amongst many splendid gifts, a shield, said to be proof against sword and bullet, made of the ears of elephants covered with rhinoceros hide ; this the Sultan placed before him, and, with one blow of his battle-axe, cleft in two the " impenetrable " buckler. Kagdâd was retaken after forty days of bloody battle, in which many a noble Ottoman fell, notably the Vezir Tayyar Pasha, who, when reproached by Murâd on the failure of an assault, replied : " Would to God, my Padishah, it were as easy for thee to take Bagdad as it is for thy slave Tayyar to give his life in serving thee ! " and the next day, scaling the ramparts in the first rank of the assailants, fell dead, shot through the throat. Quarter had been granted to the defenders ; but a mine, treacherously sprung, whereby eight hundred janissaries were killed, was the signal for a general mas- sacre. 'I'hirly thousand Persians, say the Eastern historians, perished beneath the Ottoman scimitars. A Persian musican named Shah-Quli, brought before Murâd, played and sang so sweetly, first a song of triumph, then a dirge, that the Sultan, moved to pity by the music, gave order- to stop the massacre. Murâd died in Stamljoul, in the twenty-ninth year of his age. ■ 'Aziz I (1050=1641 ca.), the poetic pseudonym of a certain Mustafa of Constantinople, who held the appointment of provost of the Seven Towers. He is principally known from his Shehr-nigiz, a few extracts from which arc translated in the present volume. 2,2 lUOCRArillCA!. NOTICES. Nâ'ii. I (1077=1666). Of this poet lillle is known save that he was a native of Constantinople, that his real name was Yeni-Zâda Mustafa Efendi, and that he held a position under government. SiDQi (1115 = 1703) was a daughter of Qamer Muhammed Efendi, a member of the '■ulemâ of the time of Sultan Muhammed IV. She lies buried by her father's side without the Adrianople Gate, not far from the convent of Emir Bukhara. Besides her Dm>ân, she wrote two mystic poems, entitled Genjıı-l-Envâr. " Ihe Treasury of Lights;" and Mejma'u- 'l-Akhbâr, "The Collection of Information." Several poets have written under the name of Sidqi. I Q V.  I Î : Sultan Mustafa II. (1115 = 1 703). When Sultan Mustafa II., son of Muhammed IV., the great hunter, succeeded his uncle, Ahmed II., in 1106 (1695), ^c set himself vigorously to redress the many corruptions which had crept into the State during the last reigns. He placed himself at the head of his army, and was for a time successful against the Austrians ; but being eventually worsted, he was obliged, by the Treaty of Carlowitz, to leave almost the whole of Hungary in the hands of the Imperialists. Shortly before his death, in 1 1 15 (1703), Mustafa II. abdicated in favour of his brother Ahmed, who became third Sultan of that name. Nâbİ (1124=1712), who was born at Roha, came to Stamboul in the reign of Muhammed IV., where he attached himself to that monarch's favourite, Mustafa Pasha, whom he accompanied through his Morean campaign. On the death of his patron, Nabi made the pilgrimage to S lUOGRAPIlICAL NOTICES. 21 j Mekka, and on his return from the Holy City, fixed his residence at Aleppo, where he made the acfjuaintance of Baltaji Muhanimed Pasha, who, after his first Grand-Vezirate, had been appointed governor of that town. This minister conceived a great attachment for Nâbi, and on his recall to Constantinople, to resume tlie highest office of the I^iipire, he accorded to the poet an important official position. Nâbi, who was over eighty years of age when he died, left an immense number of works, partly in prose and partly in verse ; many of the latter are qasldas in l)raise of the various vezirs who befriended him. His Drwan contains nine thousand couplets. The Kliayriyya and the Khayr-Abâd, two long ethical poems addressed to his son, are considered his masterpieces. ' R I F (1125 = 1713), a distinguished member of the legal profession, famed for his great erudition and the elegance with which he wrote the taHlq character. Besides some prose works on metaphysics and syntax, he composed a long poem on the Mi'rCij, or Night-journey of the Proj^hct, also a comi)lete D'nvCin. He founded a maircsa at Eyyûb ; and left a sum of money in order that, on every anniversary of the Prophet's Night- journey, his poem on that subject might there be read. Nedim (1140 = 1727 ca.). Regarding this poet we have very few- particulars. He was patronised first by the Grand Vezir '.Mi Pasha, after whose death, on the battlefield of Peterwardein, Ibrahim Pasha, third famous Grand Vezir of the name, took him under his protection. Nedim was appointed librarian of the library founded by this minister. Ve H r. I ( 1 1 46 = 1 7 33 ^(/. ). This name has been adopted by several Ottoman ))oets. The author, of who^c i:;iizr/ s a specimen is gi\en in this work, nourished îi4 niocNAPfncAi. notices. during ihc reign of Sultan Aluiicd III. ; but ilic nio.sL famous Vchbi is the l)Oct styled, for distinction's sake, Sumbul-Zada Vehbi, who lived some seventy years later. vSaho-atİ: Sultan MahmCd I. (1168=^1754). The reign of this monarch, who succeeded his uncle Ahmed III. in 1143 (1730), is marked by an attack made by Russia and Austria upon the Ottoman Empire. The first of these powers was on the whole successful, but the second was unfortunate, and, by the Treaty of Belgrade, compelled to restore to the Porte several provinces she had taken from it by the Peace of Passarowitz. It is to the honour of Sultan MahmOd that he did not join in the attack made by many of the European powers on Austria when the youthful empress Maria Theresa succeeded to the throne : the opportunity for avenging himself upon the hereditary enemy of his country was a golden one, but he was too generous to take advantage of it. BklIg (1170= 1756 ca.). Little is known of this poet, save that he was the son of a certain Qara Bag 'Ali Efendi of Qaysariyya, and that he came to Constantinople in 1 1 15 (1703), and dwelt there in one of the mcdresas of the Mosque of Muhammed II. Sam i (1170= 1756 ca.) is the annalist, whose history, along with those of Shâkir and Subhi, forms one of the volumes of the Imperial Historiographers. Many of his poems contain pretty and original ideas, which are usually con- veyed in graceful and appropriate language. He is particularly strong in mxifrcds. A mufrcd is a single bcyt, or couplet, the hemistichs of which may or may not rlnnie with one another : it stands bv itself, unconnected with an\ lUOGRAPIirCAL XOT/CKS. 215 other piece of verse, and must contain some />o/i mot neatly and briefly expressed. Sami has a great number of these : the following will serve as 9. specimen : Stone about its middle fastened, and with iron staff in hand, Tremblingly tlie conipass-needie seeketli for the darling's land.* N E v-R E S (1175 = 1761). Nev-res 'Abdü-"r-Rezzâfi was a poet of the times of MahmQd I. and Mustafa III., the praises of whom are -sung in many of his verses. \'on Hammer has no j^articulars regarding him, save that on account of some offence given to a contemporary savant, called Hashmet Etendi, he was baiiished, in 1761, to Brûsa, where shortly alterwards he died. S H  H I N G I R .\ Y : K H A N OF T y E C R I M E .\ ( 1 205 = 1 789). When the vast empire of Jengiz fell in pieces, the Khans who governed that poTtion of it which is now the southern half of Russia became independent monarchs. This territory was divided into three Khanates ; Kazan, Astrakhan, and the Crimea. For centuries the princes of the last of these bore the surname of Giray ; the origin of which is stated to be as follows. It was a custom of the Crimean Khans to send their sons in their youth to nomad tribes to receive a warrior's education. A certain Khân who had been thus brought up by the *Bagiitii task basi/>, abitish elina alien \isil, A'll-yi Jılnâni arar titreyerek tjiblanumâ. The allusion in the first line is to the ijaniVat tashi, or contentment-stone ; a stone which dervishes and Arabs, when going on a journey, sometimes tie tightly against the pit of the stomach to repel the pangs of liunger. The fuUowing is the most celebrated of all Sfinii's mufreds, but it docs not admit of translation : Bendi shakuarin chuzup, upsem kus-i nermi nola ? Yarına sheftâlisi bâg-i vtisletin gayet lezîs ! 216 niOCKAl'lUCAI. xoricES. tribe Cıirây hai)i)cncd to meet his foster-father who was returning from Melclca, and at the earnest recjuest of his old guardian named his infant son Giray, in honour of the tril)e, and further ordered that all future princes of his house should bear that style as surname. Shortly after the capture of Constantinople, the Crimean Khans declared themselves vassals of the Ottoman Sultans, and such they continued to be till within a few years of the theft of their territory by Russia, which put an end alike to their sovereignty and to the freedom of their people. Shâhin Giray, the last of the line, seems to have been a talented and accomplished prince, but totally wanting in political foresight ; he had a difficult game to play, and played it badly. The Russians had penetrated into the Crimea by force and fraud, and, seeing their arms everywhere victori- ous over the Turks, and importuned and flattered by their agents, he very foolishly and wrongly forsook his old allegiance and proclaimed himself the vassal of Catherine. He was speedily deposed and sent into Russia; his country was formally annexed, and the last gleam of Tatclr freedom drowned in the blood of 30,000 men, women, and children, massacred by the Russian soldiers. The treatment of those Crimean Princes, who placed themselves under Stamboul and St. Petersburg respectively, shows well the difference between Turk and Russian. Refused the pension that had been promised him, and insulted by his cruel captors, Shâhin Giray fled to Constantinople ; but desertion of his liege and betrayal of his people were crimes too great for the Sultan to overlook : the hapless Prince was sent to Rhodes and there executed as a traitor. Gâlib (1210= 1795), son of a musician in a Mevlevi convent, was born in Constantinople in the year 1171 (1757). From his youth he was much lUöCRArnıCAi. notices. 217 given to study, and to t'reiiuenting the society of learned men. In his twenty fourth year he coni[)iled his Dhcuhi, and two years later composed his most celebrated i)oem, a beautiful mystic romance, named Iliisn 11 'Is/u/, '' Beauty and Love." Sultan Selim III. conferred upon Gcâlib the ottice of Sheykh of Galata, in return for which that poet composed a magnificent qas'ida in honour of his royal patron. In 1795 Gâlib undertook the pilgrimage to Mekka, on his return from which he died in Damascus, where he is buried. This author, who is frequently styled Gâlib Deda, " Father Gâlib," is regarded as one of the greatest of modern Ottoman poets ; he left a large number of works, principally on religious subjects. F I T N E r K H -A N I M ( 1 2 1 5 == 1 800 Cix. ). Of this poetess I can find no particulars save that she was the daughter of a Mufti named Es'ad. 'Izzet Molla mentions her in one of his poems as being married to someone who was unworthy of her. Ii. H.ÂMi: SuLT.xN SklIm III. ( 1 222 =1807). During the reign ot this monarch, who ascended the throne in 1203 (1789), the star of the House of 'Osman was at its nadir. On his accession the Empire was engaged in a disastrous war with Austria and Russia. Peace was made with the former, but Catherine continued the struggle on her own account, until the interven- tion of Prussia and England secured a resjjitc for the Ottoman State. Selim maintained neutrality during the lûuopean wars occasioned by the l-"rcnih Republic, till Napoleon's wanton assault upon I' gyi>i compelled him to lake uj) arms in his own defence. Familiar to every Englishman is the story of this war — how England went to her ally's aid ; how liie veterans of I-'rance. under the eyes of Lîonaparle himself, dashed time after lime against the walls oi St. 2 , S nıoGKA i'nıc. ı /. no rıcr.s. lean d". Vere, only to İJC rci)clljd by Jc/./.âr Pa.sha and his valiant comrades ; and how Nelson destroyed Napoleon's fleet, and with it all his dreams of Kiistern lCiui)ire, at the never-to-be-forgotten battle of Aboukir. Selim, seeing that the constantly-recurring defeats sustained by the Otto- man troops resulted from their weapons and organisation being those of the Middle Ages rather than of modern times, resolved to adopt the arms and tactics of the nations of Western Europe. This he began to accomplish, and the reason of the exceeding weakness of the Empire throughout his reign was this change of front in the face of powerful foes. That these reforms were absolutely necessary, is beyond ciuestion^they have saved the Empire. And now, after nearly a hundred years, we see the result : the Ottoman soldiers of to-day have shown on many occasions that, when at all fairly matched, they are able to cope successfully with the best-e([uipped troops in Europe ; but it was very different in SeUm's time. 'I'hat monarch's reforms, however, met with violent opposition, especially from the Janissaries, and eventually cost him his life : a revolution, occasioned by his innovations, hurled him from the throne, and shortly afterwards he was strangled in his private apartments. Thus perished SeUm III. ; but the reforms which he originated have been nobly and successfully carried out by his son Mahmfid II. and his successors. FÂZIL Beg (1224=1810) was the son of Tahir Pasha (the Sheykh Daher of Volney and Savary), the accomplice of 'Alî Beg of Egypt in his revolt against the Ottoman Porte. Though for a time successful, 'Alî Beg was at length defeated, and Tahir was driven into 'Akka, where he defended himself till killed in a sortie (1775). Fâzil. who. with his younger brother. Kâmil Beg. likewise a poet, was BJOGKArillCAL XOIICES. 210 brought up in the Imperial Seragho, early dcvuicd himself to literature, and after holding several orticial appointments, was eventually made one of ihe K/ıoJagân, or Members of the Divan. Besides the Zenân-Nâma^ "Book of Women," he wrote the K/ıûbâfi-J\â»ıa, " Book of Fair" {i.e. Youths), the Deftcr-i 'Is/i(j, " Register of Love," and the Chaii^i-A'â/na, " Book of the i'ublic Dancer." The Defter-i "Ishq comes first in the little volume of his works, next follow the K/nilnhi and Zenân A'â/znıs, companion jjoems, and then lastly the Chengi-jXama. He left also a DnvCin oi gazcls. In his little work on Turkish Poetry, Mr. Redhouse cites an elegy on the death of a lady, which is so i)retty that I cannot forbear offering a translation of it. The verse is said to be by one Fâzil, but whether he be the same l''âzil as composed the Zetnın-Nâma., I have failed to ascertain : that author is, however, the only j)oet of the name mentioned in \'on Hammer's work : El-EGV ON A LaüV. Uy FÂZIL. Ah! thou'st laid her low, yet flushed with life, Cup-bearer of tlic Sphere! Scarce the glass of joy was tasted when the bowl of P'ate brimmed o'er: Hold her, O thou Earth! full gently, smile on her, O Trusted One! * For a wide-world's King this fair Pearl as his heart's own darling wore. t W A s 1 !■ (I 236 = 1S20 <• II. (1255 = 1839). When the Janis- saries deposed Sultan Sehm III., they jilaced upon the throne his cousin Mustafa, the eldest son of 'Abdu-"1-Hamid I. This prince was not long allowed to enjoy the honours of royalty, for Mustafa Bayracpdar, the Pasha of Rusjucj, a loyal adherent of the unfortunate Sclim, entered the capital with an army of 40,000 men, and proceeded to storm the Seraglio. Sultan Mustafa IV. gave orders for the immediate execution of his cousin, the deposed Selim, and his own brother. Prince Mahnuid, hoping by this means to secure his own life and throne, as he knew no one would dare to injure the sole male representative of the House of 'Osman. The Pasha and his followers were a few minutes too late to save Selim, but in time to rescue Mahmüd, whom a faithful slave had hid in the furnace of a bath. Sultan Mustafa was at once deposed, and the youthful Prince raised to the throne. Mahmüd resolved to follow the exami)l(j of his cousin, and energetically proceeded with the reforms inaugurated by the latter. One of the most remarkable incidents of his reign was the Destruction of the Janissaries : this once most formidable body of troops, which had been founded 500 years before, in the days of Sultan Orkhan, had turned into a horde o\ military tyrants, who set up and pulled down sultans as they i«leased, and whose lawless violence not unfrequently drenched Constantinoi)le with blood. As these men consistently and bitterly oj^posed every attempt at reform, and as there was, and could be, no security either for the monarch or for any of his subjects so long as their power was unbroken, Mahmüd deter- 22. nioGRAriiicAi. .\ or ICES. inincil on ihc hold, hut iiujst ncicssaiy, stroke of their annihilation. '1 he story 1)1' liow he elTc» teil this is too well known to need rejieating here : Miliire it lo say that it was an act which was justified, as it could alone have been, by extreme necessity. Many reverses, such as the loss of dreece and Algiers, the defeat of Navarino, the Egyptian rebellion, and the Russian invasion, fell to this Sultan's lot ; but he met all with the undaunted calmness of one who is conscious that his cause is just. \\\)rn out with continual anxiety and ceaseless labour, Sultan Mahmûd II. died in 1839, ^vhen, to use the words of Sir Edward Creasy, the English historian of the Ottoman Empire, " as gallant a spirit left the earth, as ever strove against the sjiites of fortune — as ever toiled for a nation's good in lirei)aring benefits, the maturity of which it was not permitted to behold." I, K V 1. A K H A N 1 M (1275 = 1S5S), the sister of 'Izzet Molla, and aunt of the famous Fuad Pasha, was a poetess of considerable merit. Her Diu'iin, which contains many fine passages, consists for the most jiart of fihikhs on events that occurred during the first half of the present century. '/. 1 v A r> KG (1296= 1879 "''•)) son of an Albanian father, was one of the most distinguished men of letters of modern Turkey. He was a member of what is known as the " Young Turkey " party. Having temporarily fallen under the displeasure of Sultan 'Abdu-'l-'AzIz, whose secretary he was, he retired to London, where he became connected with the papers, Mitk/ibir, " Informer,' and Jltiniwct, "■ Liberty," published by his party in the English capital. When Sultan 'Abdu-"1-Hamid II. opened the Ottoman Parliament, Ziya Beg, now Ziya Pasha, was among those whom the people chose as their representatives. He has written a good deal of poetry, and compiled BIOGKAI'IffCAI. XOTfCES. 2.'3 an excellent rurkish, I'ersian, and Arabian Anthology, called Kluitoiat, "The Tavern," from which many of the poems translatetl in the present work have been selected. Ziya was more a courtier than a statesman, and his l)ocms were held in high esteem by Sultan 'Abdu-l-'Azi/. He was a friend and associate of Kemâl Beg, the poet, and of the celebrated writer 'Ali Su'âvî Efendi.* * I anı indebted foi most of these parlicul.Tis concerning Ziya I5eg to Dr. Charles Well-, who knew him for many years. Dr. Wells, I may say, has wrillen l>y far the hest Tiirki-il» I irammar that exists in the English language. NOTES. 2 ü Sultan Murâd TV J'Tf'in ft, Jıot'TCt^h ,y<ı. arc com- 22S NOTES. piisod of t;rccn clirysolitc, the rclkction of which causes the greenish (or blueish) tint of the sky. El-(^.iz\vinl says that the 'Anqa is the greatest of all birds, and carries ofT an elephant as a hawk docs a mouse. This strange creature is further said to be rational, and to possess the i> :wer of speech. The '.Anqfi plays to a certain extent the same part in the East as the rhienix and Griffin in the West.— In the line before us Sheykhi is, of course, simply calling on liis own muse, which, in the spirit of his class, he declares to be sweet as the nightingale, and wiinild be his. Ferhâd had all but completed his task, when Khusrev, fearing he should have to part with his beautiful mistress, sent an old woman to the " mountain-hewer" to tell him that Shirin was dead ; on hearing which Ferhâd cast himself headlong from the rock. Khusrev, however, met with his due reward ; for his son Shirûya, likewise enamoured of the enchanting Shirin, stabbed him, in the vain hope of gaining that wonderful lady. Ferhâd is often mentioned in Ottoman poetry as the type of a sincere but unfortunate lover. The sculptures and cuneiform inscriptions, deciphered by Sir Henry Rawlinson, on NOTES. 229 the mountain of Bîsilûn (or Behislân) near Kernıânshâh in Persia, arc legendarily reported to be the work ot" Ferhâd. 11 A 111ÛC11 is a constantly recurring metaphor for a bcaitli/iil 7,.\>iiian ox youth. 12 Tlie " curling serpents " are her shining, curling tresses. 13 The " dawn " is her fair face. 14 The Signs of the Zodiac are divided into Fiery, Earthy, Airy, and Watery. Aries, Leo, and Sagittary are Fiery; Taurus, Virgo, and Capricorn arc Earthy; Gemini, Libra, and Aquarius are Airy ; and Cancer, Scoqiio, and Pisces are Watery. There are many other ways of dividing the Signs, such as Masculine and Feminine, &c. The allusion in the text is, of course, a play upon the moon-like Shlrin bathing in the l"iond. 15 Orientals exjuess surprise by biting the fore-finger. 16 That is : her locks covered lier eyes. Be it said, once for all, that in Ottoman poelr)' the hyacinth continually represents the hair, and the narcissus, the eye. 17 The hair is also frequently likened to tiius/c, being dark and sweet-scented. iS Here the moon means hex face, as does "her day" in the last line. 19 These three last couplets arc of course mystic : the "Loved One" is God. Sec Introduction, Sec. L 20 The Muhamviediyya is a long poem, descriptive of the creation of the universe, the dogmas of Islam, and the life of the Prophet. 21 The following passage, from .Sale's Preliminary Discourse to his translation of the <^ur\^n, will serve as a commentary to this poem ; I have spelt the Arabic words in acconl- ance with Turkish pronunciation : " They [the commentators] say it [Paradise] is situate above the Seven Heavens [or in the Seventh Heaven], and next under the Throne of Go