I 
 
^rf^' 
 
 r ; 
 
 SELECTIONS 
 
 THE POETRY OF THE AFGHANS, 
 
 FROM THE SIXTEENTH TO THE NINETEENTH CENTURY: 
 
 LITERALLY TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL PUS^TO ; 
 
 WITH NOTICES OF THE DIFFERENT AUTHORS, 
 AND REMARKS 
 
 ON THE MYSTIC DOCTRINE AND POETRY OF THE SUFIS 
 
 CAPTAIN H. G. RAVERTY, 
 
 HER majesty's 3rD REGIMENT BOMBAY NATIVE INFANTRY; 
 
 MEMBER OF THE ROYAL ASIATIC SOCIETY OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND ; 
 
 AUTUOR OF A GRAMMAR AND DICTIONART OF THE PUSHTO OR AFGHAN 
 
 language; selections, prose and poetical, in the PUSHTO 
 
 OR AFGHAN LANGUAGE; A THESAURUS OF ENGLISH AND 
 
 HINDUSTANI TECHNICAL TERMS, ETC. ETC. 
 
 " Full many a gem of purest ray serene 
 
 The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear ; 
 Full many a flower is bom to blush unseen, 
 And waste its sweetness on the desert air." 
 
 LONDON : 
 WILLIAMS AND NORGATE, 
 
 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN, 
 AND SOUTH FREDERICK STREET, EDINBURGH. 
 
 1862. 
 
 [The rUiht of Translation is reserved.'] 
 
LIBCARIAIi'S Fliiia 
 
 M. \VATT.->, CUOWX COURT, TKMIM.K IlAll. 
 

 TO f^ -V 
 
 I 7 If 
 
 COLONEL W. IL SYKES, M.P., F.R.s!, '" 
 
 nOMHAY ARMY : 
 
 /Vi^/ M 
 
 CHAIRMAN OF THE HONOURABLE EAST-INDIA COMPANY ; ' 
 (fee. etc. etc., 
 
 who first urged upon the Author the necessity of cultivating the 
 study of Oriental languages ; and who raises his voice in behalf of 
 that unfortunate body, constituting the majority of the Officers of 
 the Indian Army, who, in preference to "Amalgamation," have 
 chosen to stand by their "Rights and Privileges," as guaranteed 
 to them by the British Parliament, 
 
 THIS WORK, 
 ON THE POETRY OF THE AFGHANS, __ 
 
 IS, / ^f "^^f ^^ 
 
 ( UNIVERSITY 
 
 AS A SMALL TOKEN OF KESPECT, \ '''^ J 
 
 DEDICATED, ^*=aa4=s»rr-..— 
 
 BY HIS OBLIGED AND FAITHFUL, SERVANT, 
 
 H. G. RAVERTY, Captain 
 
 THIRD REGIMENT BOMBAY NATIVE INFANTRY. 
 
 ^G40 
 
I AVAIL mysflf of this opportunity, to express my great thunks to the 
 ilifiVn-nt Subsc-rilHirt in Eng-liind, in India, iind on the Continent — more 
 piirticuhirly to the diff»Tent FoiiEKi.v Govkhnments— for their hberul 
 putronn^'e to this, ns well as to my previous works in the Afghan Lan- 
 jruaj^e, in the, at present, D.ifljr AuE of Oriestal Literature; whe<i 
 that Sun, wliich ever diffused its rays of support ujwn the cultivation of 
 Kustern lore and Asintic subjects, has set; and naug-ht but dark, loweriniT, 
 and un;renial clouds remain. 
 
 Should tliis work, (ui tlie Poetry nf the Afghans, meet with the appro- 
 bation and supjiort of the irenern! ruMic, I may, perhaps, >hortly publish 
 a second volume. 
 
TO THE READER. 
 
 During my lengthened researches in, and long study of the Pus'hto 
 language, for so many years past, and particularly when making 
 selections for my work entitled "Gulshan-i-Roh,"* I could not 
 fail being much struck with the beauty of some of the poetry of 
 the Afghans ; so much so, indeed, that I long since determined, 
 and, at length, now venture to submit to the European reader, a 
 literal translation of several poems of the most celebrated of the 
 Af gh an poets — together with a brief notice of each author — in an 
 English dress. 
 
 It must be remembered, that these poems are the effusions of 
 men who never enjoyed any of what we call the luxm-ies of life ; 
 yet how refined are the generality of their sentiments ! Of men 
 who lived in a state, such as our own Borderers lived in, five 
 liimdi'ed years ago, in violence and in strife, and whose descendants 
 live so still ; yet how exquisitely pathetic are many of their poems, 
 and how high-souled and benevolent their sentiments and ideas ! 
 Inliabiting a fine comitry, with grand and lofty momitains, and 
 green and fertile valleys, but with nought more than the bare 
 necessaries of life attainable, ■ how simple and how perfect are 
 their similes, and how true to natm'e ! ^Vhat a patriotic ardour ; 
 what a true spirit of freedom, and a love of country, much of their 
 poetry displays ! 
 
 It must also be bonie in mind, that the greater number of the 
 
 * See List at the end of this volume. 
 
VI TO THE READKH. 
 
 writers of the following poems, except Ahmad Shah, and Khiishhal 
 Khan, and his sons, were either men, who during their life-time 
 had scjircely left the i)rocincts of their native village, or who had 
 devoted their lives to poverty luid religious abstraction. Men, who 
 never wrote for fame ; and who never contemplated that the inmost 
 thoughts which had occupied their he:xrts, would ever meet the 
 eyes of more than a few dear and admiring friends, after they had, 
 themselves, passed from the scene for ever. Never did they 
 imagine that they would appear before any Public, much less a 
 Kuroj)can one, in the Sa.xon tongue, and translated by a FaraxgI ! 
 
 " Far from the maddening world'.^ ignoble strife, 
 Tljcir f-ohoT wishes never learn'd to stray ; 
 Along the codI sequester'd vale of Ufe, 
 They ke|it the noiseless tenour of their way." 
 
 I have boon very careful to render the poems as litenil as 
 jK)ssible ; and have, it will be jwrceived, endeavoured to presen-o 
 the rhyming words, as they occur, in the English as well, more 
 particularly when each couplet ends in the same word throughout. 
 
 It will also, no doubt,, be obsen'cd, that two nominatives some- 
 times occur, one in each line of a couplet ; which is occasioned by 
 the first hemistich of the couplets being put first, where we should, 
 if we considered the English idiom oidy, ])ut it last. This may 
 cause a seeming quaintnesa in the translation ; but I considered it 
 neces.sjirj' to follow the original as near as possible, in order to 
 preserve the literal style I had, fnmi the outset, adopted. 
 
 The reader should also underst^uul, that Afghan books exist 
 «>nly in manuscript, as was the ca.se in Eur»)[K' before the invention 
 of printing; and the following poems have been translated from 
 such. Copies of the works <>f some of the authors herein contjihied 
 arc inire, ami st-ldoni to be met with, even in Afijhanistan, such as 
 the jMK'ms of Al;imad SJn'ih, Khwajah Muhanunad, and (except in 
 the I'calhawar district) KhnaLb'd Khan, :uid his sons; whilst the 
 
TO THE READER. Vll 
 
 original manuscript of Shaida s poems, as they were first collected 
 aud arranged into a volume, and richly illuminated, is in my 
 possession ; and no copy of them, that I am aware of, exists, save 
 that which I permitted the descendants on his brother's side to 
 make from my manuscript, which I sent some hundreds of miles 
 for them to examine. Although he was celebrated as a poet, 
 they had never seen his poems before, he having died in India. 
 
 Greater variety will be noticed in the poems of Khushhal Khan, 
 than in those of the other Afghan poets contained in this volume ; 
 for, like the poets of the West, no subject seems to have been 
 foreign to him ; and, amongst other things, he does not spare the 
 failings of his own counti'ymcn, as he found them two centuries 
 since ; and probably he will on this account be the favourite with 
 the general reader. 
 
 All I can say in conclusion is, that what is good in the fol- 
 lowing pages must be credited to the authors ; and aU the failings 
 and imj)erfections, which are very many, I fear, to their English 
 translator, who, therefore, prays for the indulgence and forbearance 
 of his readers. 
 
 H. G. R. 
 
 a 2 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Ukmauks on thk Mystic Doctrine and Poetry of thk 
 
 SOfIs 
 
 i'oems of ie.\bd-ur-ranman, with notke of the 
 Author 
 Mlii/A Khan, AnsarI 
 
 -KAIin-UL-HAMID 
 
 KnusHHAL KoAN, Khattak 
 
 ASHRAF Kuan, KnATTAK . 
 
 /EAnD-ci,-KADiR Khan, Khattak 
 Ahmad Shah, AudalI 
 Kazim Kuan, surname!) Shaida 
 Knw.v.iAH MunAMMAP, Bangash 
 
 PAGE IX 
 1 
 
 51 
 8.5 
 142 
 249 
 2G8 
 287 
 304 
 32G 
 
REMARKS ON THE MYSTIC DOCTRINE AND 
 POETRY OF THE StJFIS. 
 
 The poetry of the East, particularly that of the Muhammadan 
 nations, differs materially from that of the West ; and when taken 
 up by the uninitiated, would often appear to be the mere effusions 
 of wild and voluptiious bacchanals, or worthy of Anacreon himself. 
 
 These remarks, however, pertain more to Persian than to Afghan 
 jjoetiy, which contains less of the, often, bombastic style of the 
 former, and approaches nearer to the simplicity of the poetry of the 
 ancient Arabs. A general subject with the Afghan, as well as other 
 Asiatic poets, is that of love, not human, but divine, and a contempt 
 for the people and vanities of the world ; whilst other A fgh an 
 poets, such as Khushhal Khan, write on any subject that may 
 have been uppermost in their minds at the time, after the manner 
 of Western poets. 
 
 The general reader, who would understand many of the poems con- 
 tained in the following pages, must know that most of the Asiatic 
 poets profess the mystical doctrine of the Sufis, the tenets of which, 
 it will be necessary to explain to him ; although Oriental scholars 
 may be supposed to be sufficiently familiar with the subject. 
 
 The Muhammadan writers state, that these enthusiasts are 
 co-existent with their religion ; and, propably, their rapturous 
 zeal may have gTcatly contributed to the first establishment of 
 Islamism ; but they have since been considered its greatest enemies, 
 and it is avouched that their doctrines have, for a long time, been 
 even undermining: Muhammadanism itself. Hence the most rigorous 
 
X REMARKS ON THE MYSTIC DOCTRINE 
 
 proceedings have, from time to time, been put in practice to repress 
 their increase, but these, as usual in such a\ses, have had a con- 
 trary effect ; and Sufi-ism is said to be still on the increase. There 
 is no doubt, but that the free opinions of the sect on the dogmas 
 of the Muljammadan religion, their contempt for its forms, and 
 their claim to communion with, or rather absoq^tion into the 
 Creator, are all more or less calculated to subvert that faith, of 
 whose outward forms the Sufis profess their vencmtion. 
 
 The tenets of the Sufi doctrines appear to have been most widely 
 difiused over Persia; and, indeed, the great reputation acquired by 
 one of the priests of the sect, enabled his descendants, for above 
 twi> centuries, under the name of the Sixfawlan djiiasty, to occupy 
 the throne of that countr}'.* 
 
 Tlie genend name by which this sect of enthusiasts is known, is 
 Sufi, implying /*«/r, a term probably derived from the Arabic word 
 4a-» {sn/d/i), signifying piu-ity ; and by this name all ai*e known, from 
 the venerated teaelier, or spiritual guide, followed by crowds of 
 disciples, tn llie liuinbK- l-ii/dntlai; ifarirfs/i, ov Aikir, who wandei"S 
 about almost naked, or only clothed in his khirkah or cloak of rags, 
 sulisisting upon scanty alms, to support this, voluntarily adopted, 
 life of prayer and religious altstniction. 
 
 In Indiii, more than in any other eountrj' of Asia, from rcmote 
 ages, these visionary doctrines ajipear to have flourished, much after 
 tlie same manner as in Eg}pt and S)Tia, in the etuly days of Chris- 
 tianity, as testified to by the early ecclesiastical writers, who trace 
 to those coimtrics the mystic, the henuit, and the monk ; for there 
 the propensity to a life of austerity was (juite a disciuse. In the 
 Hindu ix'ligion also, as well as in the jieople themselves, there is 
 niueli that tends to foster a spirit of religious abstr.icti<>n ; and wc 
 nmv thus, witli some justice, suppose that from India other nations 
 
 • I.-^muiril tl»> First u.'^tciuliil tlie tlironc a.d. l.JOtt, mul liis family was 
 .-'ulivirtril liv .Nuiiir, A.n. IT.'Jli. 
 
AND POETRY OF THE SOfIS. x'l 
 
 have derived this mystic worship of tlie Deity, but without 
 achipting tlie dreadful austerities and macci'ations, conuuon among 
 the Hindus, and deemed necessary for attaining unto this state of 
 beatitude. 
 
 To give a full account of the doctrines of the Sufis, would be 
 almost a useless attempt ; for traces of it may be found, in some 
 shape or other, in all countries ; alike, in the sublime theories of 
 the philosophers of ancient Greece, and in those of modem Europe. 
 
 The Sufis aflSnn, that their creed is adverse to superstition, 
 scepticism, and eiTor ; but " it exists by the active propagation of 
 all thi'ee." * The doctrines of their teachers are giv^en to their 
 disciples in place of the outward forms and observances of the 
 faith they profess. They are invited to embark upon the ocean of 
 doubt, piloted by a sacred teacher, or spiritual guide, whom they 
 must consider superior to all other mortals, and deem worthy of 
 the most pious and spiritual confidence — in fact, of almost adoration 
 itself. They are devoted to the search after Truth, and are con- 
 stantly occupied in adoration of the Deity. He, according to their 
 belief, is diffused throughout all created things ;t and they con- 
 sider, that the soul of man, and the principle of existence, is of 
 God (part of Him), not from Him. Hence their doctrine teaches 
 that the soul of man is an exile from its Creator, who is its home 
 and source ; that the body is its cage, or prison-house ; and the 
 term of life, in this world, is its period of banishment from Him 
 
 * Malcolm's History of Persia. 
 
 t " The creation proceeded at once from the splendour of God, who 
 poured his spirit upon the universe, as the general diffusion of liglit is 
 poured over the earth by the rising sun ; and as the absence of that 
 luminary creates total darkness, so the partial or total absence of the 
 Divuie splendour or light causes partial or general annihilation. The 
 creation, in its relation to the Creator, is hke unto the small particles 
 discernible in the sun's rays, which vanish the moment it ceases to 
 shine." — Peksiax MS. 
 
Ml KEMAUKS ON THE MYSTIC DOCTRINE 
 
 ere the soul fell it IkuI seen the fiice of Truth, but, iu this worUl, 
 it merely obtains u partial and shadowy glimpse, "which serves to 
 awaken the slumbering memoiy of the past, but can only vaguely 
 rtx:all it ; and Sufi -ism undertakes, by a long course of education, 
 and moral discipline, to lead the soul onwai-d, from stage to sttvge, 
 imtil, at length, it reaches the goal of perfect knowledge, truth, 
 and peace."* 
 
 Acc<jrding to this mysterious doctrine, there are four stages 
 through which it is necessary man should pass, prior to attaining 
 unto the highest state, or that of divine beatitude ; where, to use 
 their (l\\^^ wimls, "his corporeal veil, which had previously obscvu-ed 
 his sight, will be drawn aside, and his soul, emancipated from all 
 material things, will again unite with the divine and transcendent 
 essence, from which it had been divided, for a time, but not 
 separated for ever." 
 
 The fii"st of these stages is termed ndsut, or humanity, m wliich 
 the disciple is supposed to be living in obedience to the shanr, or 
 orthodox law, and paying due observance to the rites and ceremo- 
 nies of religion ; for these things are allowed to be uecessi\rv and 
 useful in regidating the lives of the vulgar and weak-minded, and 
 in restraining within proper hounds, and guiding such as are imable 
 to reach the acme of divine contemplation and abstraction, who 
 might be led astray by that very latitude iu matters of faith, which 
 instnicts and enraptures those of more powerful intellect, and 
 more ardent piety. 
 
 The second stage is tenned turlhif, or the way, in which the 
 disciple attiiins what is cixlled jabntf, or potentiality and caiwicity ; 
 and he who reaches this stage, quits, altogether, that state iu which 
 he is merely i)enuitted to follow and revere a teacher or spiritual 
 guide, and thus he becomes admitted within the pale of Sufi-ism, 
 All nl)servance of the rites and fi>rms of religion may be laid aside ; 
 
 • K. 1!. CowKLi., M.A. : "Oxkokd Essay.s.'' 
 
AND POETRY OF THE SUFlS. Xui 
 
 for he now, it is supijosed, exchanges what is called a'amal-iJlKinain, 
 or coi-poreal worship, for ceamal-i-ruhain, or spiritual adoration ; 
 but this stage cannot be attained, save by great piety, virtue, 
 eudm-ance, and resignation ; for it is necessary to restrain the 
 intellect when weak, until, from habits of mental devotion, grounded 
 iipon a proper knowledge of its own greatness and immortality, and 
 of the Divine nature, it shall have acquired sufficient energy ; 
 since the mind cannot be trusted in the omission or disuse of the 
 rites and usages of religion. 
 
 The third stage is cearuf, signifying knowledge or inspiration ; 
 and the disciple who arrives thereunto, is said to have attained 
 superhuman knowledge — in fact, to be inspired ; and when he has 
 reached this stage, he is equal to the angels. 
 
 The fom'th, and final state arrived at, is haktkat, or Truth itself, 
 which signifies that his union with the Divinity is perfect and 
 complete. 
 
 The dignity of Khallfah, as the teacher is designated, can only 
 be obtained after long-contmvied fasting and prayer, and by com- 
 plete abstraction and severance from all mundane things ; for the 
 man vmst he annihilated, before the saint can exist. The jirepa- 
 ration for the third stage of Siifi-ism requires a protracted and 
 fearful probation ; and many lose their lives in their eff"orts to 
 attain it. The person who makes the essay must be a devout and 
 godly murul or disciple, who has already advanced, by his piety and 
 abstraction, beyond the necessity of observing religion's forms and 
 usages. He must begin by endeavouring to attain a higher state 
 of beatitude, by a lengthened fast, which should not be less than 
 forty days ; and during this j^eriod of fasting he remains in solitude, 
 and in a posture of contemplation, and takes no sustenance save 
 enough to keep body and soul together. The character of the 
 votary greatly depends upon the patience and fortitude he may dis- 
 play dm-ing this severe ordeal ; and when, reduced to a mere skele- 
 
Xiv REMARKS ON THE MYSTIC DOCTRINE 
 
 toil, the disciple comes forth from his solitude, he still has years «.f 
 triiil to endure. Ho miLst wander about, companiouless, in desert 
 places, or renuiin in some frightfid solitude, and only seeinyr, occa- 
 sionally, the Khallfah, or spiritual guide, whom he follows ; for the 
 chief merit of all ranks of Sufis, is complete devotion to their 
 teacher, ^^'hcn he dies, he leaves his kh'irknh, or patched gannent, 
 and worldly wealtli, to the disciple he considers the most worthy to 
 succeed hun ; and when the latter dons the holy mantle, he is 
 invested with the power of his predecessor.* 
 
 Tlie most celebrated Sufi teachers have been alike fiuned for 
 their devotion and their learning, in Persia as well as in other 
 coxmtries ; tuid, in the former, the Sufis have claimed for their own, 
 all whd have, by their writings or sayings, shown a spirit of philo- 
 sophy, or knowledge of the nature Divine, which has elevated them 
 above the prejudices of the vulgar; and, certainly, great numbers of 
 persons, eminent for their lejiming, gcniius, and piety, have adopted 
 the Sufi doctrines. Amongst the most distinguished of these are 
 poeta ; for the very essence of Sufi-ism is poetry. Tlie raptures of 
 genius, expatiating upon a subject that cannot be exhausted, are 
 held to 1)0 divine inspirations, by those who l)elieve that the soul, 
 when enuuicijwited by devotion, can wander in the regions of the 
 spiritual world, and, at last, unite with its Creator, the source from 
 whence it cmanate<l. It is the same with all Sufi jxvts, whatever 
 1)0 their countr}' ; but Persia is more genenilly known as that, in 
 which this species of poetry was supposed to have reached the 
 highest degree of perfection ; but it will be discovered, from the fol- 
 lowing pages, that Sufi-ism has produced, amongst the i-ough and 
 hardy Afghans, conceptions equally as sublime. " Hunum sj>eech, 
 liowever," to quote the wonls of a writer already mentioned,t " is 
 too weak and imjKrfect to convey these lofty e.xj)eriences of the 
 
 • Pif '2 Ki?fr,i», clinj) ii., where Klisha dons the mantle of Elijali. 
 t v.. U. CoWKLL. 
 
AND POETRY OF THE SOFIs. XV 
 
 soul, and Iicnee those c;m only bo roitivsontod l)y symbols and niota 
 jihors." Vov this reason the Sufi poets, to quote the words of Sir Wil- 
 liam Jones, "adopt the fervour of devotion, and the ardont love oi' 
 ereated spirits towards their bcnetieent CnMtor ; anil Sfiii ])oetry con- 
 sists almost wholly of a mystical, reli<;i(nis allegory, thoui;h it seems, 
 to the iniinitiated ear, to contain merely the sentiments of wild and 
 voluptuous bacchanals ; but althouuh we nuist admit the dannor of 
 such a poetical style, where the limits between enthusiasm and de 
 pravity arc so minute, as to be scarcely distinguishable ;" — for the mys- 
 tical meaning of their poetry (save in the poems of the Afghan poet 
 Mirza) never, or rarely, obtrudes itself; — wo may, if we choose, 
 jiass it by, confining ourselves to those ])assages alone, which tell 
 of a nnuulane passion, and a terrestrial sunnncr and wine. Under 
 the veil of earthly love, and the woes of temjioral sejiaration, th(>y 
 disguise the dark riddle of human life, and the celestial banish- 
 ment, which lies behind the threslu)kl of existence ; and, under the 
 joys of revelry and inebriation, they tiguro mystical transports, and 
 ecstatic raptures.* Still, we must not censure it severely, and must 
 allow it to be natural, though a wanu imagination may cany it 
 beyond the bounds of S(»ber reason; "for," to quote the same 
 author, " an ardently grateful piety is congenial to the undejjraved 
 nature of man, wlu)se minil, sinking imder the magnitude of the 
 subject, and struggling to express its emotions, has I'ccourse to 
 metaphors and allegories, which it sometimes extends beyond the 
 boimds of cool reason, and often to the brink of absurdity." 
 Barrow, who would have been the sublimest mathematician, if his 
 religious turn of mind had not made him the deepest theologian 
 of his age, describes Love as " an affection or inclination of the soul 
 towards an object, proceeding from an apprehension and esteem of 
 some excellence or convenience in it, as its beaut//, worth, or utility ; 
 and producing, if it be absent, a proportionable desire, and, conse- 
 *' E. J3. Cowbell. 
 
XVI REMARKS ON THE MYSTIC DOCTRINE 
 
 quently, an endeavour to obtain such a property in it, such pos- 
 session of it, such an approximation to it, or union unth it, as the 
 thing is capable of ; with a regret and displeasiu-e in failing to 
 obtain it, or in the want and loss of it ; begetting, likewise, a com- 
 placence, satisfaction, and delight, in its presence, possession, or 
 enjoyment, which is, moreover, attended with a goodwill towards 
 it, suitable to its nature ; thjit is, with a desire that it should lurive 
 at, or continue in, its best state, with a delight to perceive it thrive 
 and flourish ; witii a displeasure tu see it suffer or decay ; with a 
 conseipient endeavour to advance it in all good, and preserve it 
 from ixll evil." Agreeably to this description, which consists of two 
 parts, and was designed to comprise the tender love of the Creator 
 towards created spirits, the great philosopher bui^bt^j forth in 
 another place, with his usual animation, and command of language, 
 into the following paneg}-ric on the pious love of human soiUs 
 towards the Author of their happiness : — " Love is the sweetest and 
 most delectable of all passions ; and when, by the conduct of wis- 
 dom, it is directed in a nitional way toward a worthy, congruous, 
 and attainable object, it caniKjt otherwise than till the heart with 
 ravishing delight : such, in all respects, superlatively such, is CioD ; 
 who, infinitely beyond all other things, desen'eth our atlection, txs 
 most perfectly amiable and ilesirablc ; as having ul>liged us by in- 
 numerable and inestimable benehts ; all the good that we have ever 
 enjoyed, or can ever expect, being derived from His pure boimty ; 
 all things in the world, in competition with Him, l>eing mean and 
 ugly ; all things, without Him, vain, miprofitable, and hurtful to us. 
 He is the most prnpor object of our love ; for we chiefly were 
 fmmed, ;uul it is tlio prime law of our nature, to love Him ; our 
 son/,fro}n itjs oritjinnl instinct, vergeth tntainh II im as its centre, and 
 can hnve no rest till it he fixed on llim : He alone can satisfy the 
 vast capacity of our minds, and fill our boundless desires. He, of 
 all lovi'ly tilings, most certainly and easily may be attained ; for. 
 
AND POETRY OF THE SOFIS. XVll 
 
 whereas, commonly, men are crossed in their affections, and their 
 love is embittered from their affecting things imaginary, which they 
 cannot reach, or coy things, which disdain and reject them, it is 
 with God qnite otherwise : He is most ready to impart himself ; 
 He most eo.rnestly desireth and wooeth our love ; He is not only 
 most willing to correspond in affection, but even doth prevent us 
 therein : He doth cherish and encourage our love by sweetest in- 
 fluences, and most consoling embraces, by kindest expressions of 
 favour, by most beneficial returns ; and, whereas all other objects 
 do, in the enjoyment, much fail our expectation, He doth even far 
 exceed it. Wlierefore, in all affectionate motions of our hearts 
 towai-ds God ; in desiring Him, in seeking His favoiu- or friendship ; 
 in embracing Him, or setting our esteem, our goodwill, our con- 
 fideuce, on Him ; in enjoying Him, by devotional meditations, and 
 addresses to Him ; in a reflective sense of our interest and propriety 
 in Him ; in thai mysterious union of spirit, whereby we do closely 
 adhere to, and are, as it were, inserted in Him ; in a hearty com- 
 placence in His benignity, a grateful sense of His kindness, and a 
 zealous desire of yielding some requital for it, we cannot but feel 
 very, very pleasant transports : indeed, that celestial flame, kindled 
 in our hearts by the spirit of love, cannot be void of warmth ; we 
 cannot fix om' eyes on infinite beauty, we cannot taste infinite sweet- 
 ness, we cannot cleave to infinite felicity, without also perpetually 
 rejoicing in the first daughter of Love to God— Charity towards 
 men ; which, in complexion and careful disposition, doth much 
 resemble her mother ; for she doth rid us of all these gloomy, keen, 
 turbulent imaginations and passions, which cloud our mind, which 
 fret our heart, which discompose the frame of our soul, from burning 
 anger, from storming contention, from gnawing envy, from rankling 
 spite, from racking suspicion, from distracting ambition and avarice ; 
 and, consequently, doth settle our mind in an even temper, in a 
 sedate humour, in an harmonious order, in that pleasant state of 
 
 h 
 
XVIU KEMARKS OX THE MYSTIC DOCTRINE 
 
 tranquillity, which, naturally, doth result from the voidance of irregu- 
 lar passions." 
 
 This passage, which borders upou quietism aud enthusiastic de- 
 votion, diftei"s no more from the mystic tenets of the Sufi creed, 
 than do European fruits and flowera from the lusciousuess and 
 fragrance of those of Asisx, or than the cold skies and sun of the 
 West differ from tlie gorgeous skies and bhizing sun of Eiistcrn 
 lands. 
 
 It is to express fervid feelings like these that, by Siifi-ism, poetry 
 is brought into play, whicii, in its sweetest strains, teaches that all 
 natiu-e abounds with a Divine love, causing even the hiuublest phuit 
 to seek the sublime object of its desire. 
 
 " In jience, Love tunes the shepherd's reed ; 
 In war, he mounts tlie warrior's steed ; 
 III lialls, in gay attire is seen ; 
 In hamlet-5, dances on the green. 
 Love rules the camp, the court, the grove. 
 And men below, and saints above ; 
 For Love is heaven, and heaven is love."* 
 
 Sir William Jones, in his "Essay on the Mystical Poctr}* of the 
 Persians and Hindus," t has given an excellent descri})tion of the 
 Sufis and their doctrine ; and I cannot do better hero thim extract 
 therefrom such portions as may elucidate my present subject, 
 " The Sufis," he says, " concur in believing that the souls of men 
 difier infinitely in degree, but not at all in kitid, from the Divine 
 Spirit, of which they ai'e part ides, and in which they will lUti- 
 mately be rc-absorbed ; that the Spirit of (iod pervades the 
 universe, always immediately ])resent to His wi>rk, and, conse- 
 quently, 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 
 
 * Scott. t Asiatic Keskahciiks, Vol. 111. 
 
AND POETRY OF THE SCFIS. XIX 
 
 illusory ; that the beauties of nature are faiut resemblances, like 
 images in a mirror, of the Divine charms ; that, from eternity 
 without beginning, to eternity without end, the Supreme Bene- 
 volence is occupied in bestowing happiness, or the means of 
 attaining it : that men can ouly attain it by performing their 
 -purt of the primal coveuant, 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 more than 
 gay pictures, presented continually to ouv minds by the spiritual 
 Artist ; that we must be aware of attachment to such p)^<^^^ioms, 
 and attach ourselves, exclusively, to God, who tndy exists in us, 
 as we exist solely in Him ; that we retaiu, even in tliis foi'lorn 
 state of separation from our beloved, the idea of heavenly heauty, 
 and the remembrance of our primeval vou'S ; that sweet music, 
 gentle breezes, fragrant flowers, perpetually renew the primary 
 idea, refresh our fading memory, and melt us with tender affec- 
 tions ; that we must cherish these affections, and, by abstracting 
 "our soxils from vanity, that is, from all but God, approximate to 
 His essence, in our final imion with which will consist our supreme 
 beatitude. From these principles flow a thousand metaphors, and 
 other poetical figm-es, which abound in the sacred poems of the 
 Persians and Hindus, who seem to mean the same thing in sub- 
 stance, and differ only in expression, as their langaiages differ in 
 idiom." It is the same in A fgh an poetry also, as the following 
 pages will amply show. 
 
 The modem Sufis, who profess a belief in the Kur'an, suppose, 
 with much sublimity both of thought and diction, that in a prior 
 state of existence the soul had been united with God ; and that, at 
 the Creation, the created spirits, and the supreme soul fi-om which 
 they emanated, were summoned together, when a celestial voice 
 demanded from each, separately, "Alasto bi-rabbikumI" ^^ Art 
 thou iwt with thy God f^ that is, ^' Art thou not bound by solemn 
 
 62 
 
XX REMARKS ON THE MYSTIC DOCTRINE 
 
 contract with Ilim?'' whereunto the spirits answered, "Bala," 
 " Yea!" Aiid hence it is that "Alasto," or "Art thoii not?" (the 
 question of this primeval compact), and "Bala," or " Yea !" occur 
 continually in these mystical compositions of Muhammadan poets, 
 whether Persians, Turks, or Afghans. " Music, jwetrj', and the 
 arts," again to quote the words of a modem writer,* "are the 
 imconscious aspirations of the soul, as it hiuries along in its restless 
 impulses through the world, stung by the echo of "Alasto," yet 
 ringing in their ears, l)ut with no visible object to claim the 
 passionate adoration which it bums to pour forth." 
 
 "The Hindus," says Sir William Jones, "describe the same 
 covenant midcr the figumtive notion, so finely expressed by Isalmi, 
 of a nuptial contract ; for, considering God in the tliree chai-actei-s of 
 Creator, Regenerator, and Preserver, and supposing the power of 
 Preserr'ation and Benevolence to have become incarnate in the power 
 of Krishna, they represent him as married to Riidha, a wonl 
 signifying atonement, pacification, or satisfaction, but applied alle- 
 gorically to the soul of man, or rather to the tclwle assemblage of 
 created souls, between whom and their benevolent Creator they 
 suppose that reciprocal love, which Bauhow descril)es with a glow of 
 expression perfectly Oriental, and which our most orthodox theo- 
 logians believe to have been mystically shadowed in the Song op 
 Solomon, while they admit that, in a literal sense, it is an 
 epithalamium on the marriage of the sapient king with the princess 
 of Egypt. The veiy learned author of the " Prelections on Sacred 
 Poetiy," declared his opinion, that the Canticles were founded on 
 historical tnith, but involved in allegory of that sort, which he 
 named mystical ; and the beautiful Pei-sian poem, on the loves of 
 Lavl.v and Maj.nun, by the inimitable Nizam! — to say nothing of 
 other poems on the same subject — is, indis]>utably, buUt on true 
 
 • E. n. C-OWEI.L. 
 
AND POETRY OF TUE SCFIS. XXi 
 
 history, yet avowedly allegorical and mysterious ; for the intro- 
 duction to it is a continued rapture on Divine love; and the name 
 of Layla seems to be used in the Jfasnawl,* and the odes of Hafiz, 
 for the omnipresent Spirit of God." If reference is here made to 
 the first of the poems of the Af gh an monarch, Ahmad Shah, at 
 page 294, the force of the words of Sir Wilham Jones will be more 
 fully seen. 
 
 According to the interpretation given to these mystical poems, 
 by the Sufis themselves — for they have even composed a vocabulary 
 of the words used by these mystics — by wine is meant devotion, 
 sleep is meditation on the Divine perfections, and lyerfume the hope 
 of the Divine favom* ; the zephyrs are outbursts of grace ; kisses and 
 embraces, the transports of devotion and piety ; idolators, infidels, 
 and lihertines, are men of the piirest faith, and the idol they tvorship 
 is the Creator himself ; the tavern is a secluded oratory, where they 
 become intoxicated with the wine of love, and its keeper is an 
 enlightened instructor or spiritual guide ; beauty denotes the per- 
 fection of the Deity ; curls and tresses are the infiniteness of His 
 glory ; the lips are the inscnitable mysteries of His essence ; doivn 
 on the cheek, the world of spirits who surround His throne ; and 
 the black mole upon the cheek of the beloved, the point of indi- 
 visible unity ; and tvantonness, mirth, and inebriation, signify 
 religious enthusiasm, and abstraction from all earthly thoughts 
 and contempt of all worldly affairs. 
 
 The poets themselves give a colour to such interpretations as the 
 foregoing, in many passages in their poems ; and it is impossible to 
 imagine that such effusions as those of Hafiz, Sacedi, and their 
 imitators, would, otherwise, be tolerated in a Musalman country, 
 particularly at places like Cairo and Constantinople, where they 
 are venerated as divine compositions. It must be, however, 
 
 * A collection of poems, by ]\rowLA:!fA ]N"tJii-UD-DiN, JamT. 
 
XXll REMARKS ON TIIK MYSTIC DOCTRINE 
 
 allowed, that " the mystical allegory, which, like metaphors and 
 comparisons, should be general only, not minutely exact, is greatly 
 diminished, if not wholly destroyed, by any attempt at particular 
 and distinct resemblances ; and that this style of composition is 
 open to dangerous misinterpretation."* 
 
 Tlie following ode, by a Sufi of BoUiara, is such an extnu>rdinarj' 
 specimen of the mysterious doctrine of the sect, although some of 
 the poems of the Afghan poet Mlrza are sufficiently so, that I 
 cannot refrain from inserting it in this place : — 
 
 " Yesterday, half inebriated, I passed by the quarter where the wine- 
 sellers dwell, 
 To seek out the daughter of an infidel, who is a vendor of wine. 
 
 At the end of the street, a damsel, with a fairy's cheek, advanced before 
 
 me. 
 Who, pagan-like, wore her tresses dishevelled over her shoulders, like the 
 
 sacerdotal thread. 
 
 1 said, ' thou, to the arch of whose eyebrows the new moon is a shame ! 
 ^\^lat quarter is this, and where is thy place of abode?' 
 
 * Cast,' she replied, * thy rosary on the grouiul, and lav tlie tlnvad of 
 
 paganism thy shoulder upon ; 
 Cast stones at the glass of jiiety ; and from an o'erflowing goblet quaft' 
 
 the wine. 
 
 After that draw near me, that I may whisper one word in thine ear ; 
 Fur thou wilt accomphsh thy journey, if thou hearken to mv words.' 
 
 Al)andoning my heart altogether, and in ecstacy wrapt, I followed her, 
 'Till I came to a place, where, ahke, reason and religion forj-ook me. 
 
 At a distance, I beheld a company, all inebriated and beside themselves, 
 ^\'ho came all frenzied, and boiling with ardour from tht? wine of love ; 
 
 Without lutes, or cymbals, or viols ; yet all full of mirth and melody — 
 Without wine, or goblet, or flask ; yet all drinking unceasingly. 
 
 * Si It W. ,Io\Es. 
 
AND POETRY OF THE SOFIS. XXIU 
 
 When tlie thread of restraint slipped away from my hand, 
 
 I desired to ask her one question, but she said unto me, ' Silence !' 
 
 * This is no square temple whose gate thou canst precipitately attain ; 
 This is no mosque which thou canst reach with tumult, but without 
 knowledge : 
 
 This is the banquet-house of infidels, and all within it are intoxicated — 
 All, from eternity's dawn to the day of doom, in astonishment lost ! 
 
 Depart, then, from the cloister, and towards the tavern bend thy steps ; 
 Cast away the cloak of the darwesh, and don thou the libertine's robe !' 
 
 I obeyed ; and if thou desire, with Ismat, the same hue and colour to 
 
 acquire. 
 Imitate him ; and both this and the next world sell for one drop of pure 
 
 wine!" 
 
 The tenets of the Sufi belief, as may be judged from what has 
 been already stated, are involved iu mystery. They begin by 
 instilling doctrines of virtue and piety, and by teaching forbearance, 
 abstemiousness, and miiversal benevolence. This much they 
 profess ; but they have seci'ets and mysteries for every step and 
 degree, which are never disclosed to the uninitiated and profane ; 
 but I shall now proceed to quote a few passages from the writings 
 of celebrated Sufis, which may tend to throw some additional light 
 upon this dark and mystic creed. 
 
 The Persian poet, Shaikh Sasedl, in his " Bostan," or "Flower 
 Garden," the subject of which is devoted to divine love, thus 
 describes it : — " The love of a being constituted, like thyself, of 
 water and clay, destroys thy patience and thy peace of mind ; it 
 excites thee, in thy waking hoiu's, with minute beauties, and 
 occupies thee, iu thy sleep, with vain imaginations. With such 
 real affection dost thou lay thine head at her feet, that the uni- 
 verse, in comparison with her, vanishes into nothing before thee ; 
 and, since her eye is not allured by thy gold, gold and dust alike 
 appear equal in thine. Not a breath dost thou utter unto any one 
 
XXIV REMARKS ON THE MYSTIC DOCTRINE 
 
 else, for with her thou hast no room for any other ; thou declarest 
 that her abode is iu thine eye, or, when thou closest it, in thy 
 heart ; thou hast no power to be at rest for a moment : if she 
 demands thy soiU, it nms, instantly, to thy lip ; and if she waves 
 a sword over thee, thy head falls, immediately, under it. Since an 
 absurd passion, with its basis on air, afl'ects thee so violently, and 
 commands with a sway so despotic, canst thou wonder that they 
 who walk in the true path are overwhelmed in the sea of mysterious 
 adoration 1 They abandon the world through remembrance of its 
 Creator ; they are inebriated with the melody of amoroiis com- 
 plainings ; they remember their beloved, and resign unto Him both 
 this life and that to come. Tlirough remembrance of God, they 
 slum the whole of mankind ; they ai*e so enamoured of the cup- 
 bc;uer, that they spill the wine from the cup. No panacea can 
 cure them ; for no mortal can be apprised of their malady ; so 
 loudly have the divine words, Alasto and Bal.\, the tumultuous 
 exclamation of all spirits, nmg in their ears, from time without 
 beginning. They are a sect fully employed, though sitting in 
 retirement ; their feet are of earth, but their breath is like flame. 
 With a single shout they could rend a mountain from its base ; 
 with a single cry they could throw a city iuto corumotion. Like the 
 wind, they ai"e gone, and more swifty ; like stone, they are silent, 
 yet utter God's praises. At the dawn of day, their tears flow so 
 copiously, as to wash from their eyes the black antimony of sleep ;* 
 though the fleet steed of their conception ran so swiftly all night ; 
 yet the morning finds them left, in disorder, behind. Night and 
 day they are phnigcd in an ocean of ardent desire, until they are, 
 through astonishment, imable to distinguish the night from the 
 day. With the peerless beauty of Him, who adorned the human 
 form, so enraptvired are they, that, with the beauty of the tigm-e 
 
 * See iidfp lit page 39. 
 
AND POETRY OF THE SCfIS. XXV 
 
 itself, they have no concern ; and whenever they behold a beauteous 
 form, they see in it the mystery of the Almighty's work. The wise 
 take not the husk in exchange for the kernel ; and he who makes 
 that choice has no understanding. He alone has drunk the pure 
 wine of unity, who has forgotten, by remembering God, all things 
 besides in both worlds." 
 
 Jam!, the author of the celebrated poem of Lay la and Majnun, 
 defines the principles of this mystic philosophy in the following- 
 words : — "Some wise and holy men are of opinion, that when the 
 Supreme Being sheds the refulgence of his Holy Spirit upon any 
 of his creatures, that creature's essence, attributes, and actions, 
 become so completely absorbed in the essence, the attributes, and 
 the actions of the Creator, that he finds himself in the position of 
 regulator or director, with reference to the rest of the creation, the 
 several existences of which become, as it were, his limbs — nothing 
 happens to any of them, that he does not feel it has happened to 
 himself. In consequence of his individual and utter annihilation, 
 the result of his essential union with the Deity, he sees his own 
 essence to be the essence of the One and Only ; his own attributes 
 to be His attributes ; and his own actions to be His actions ; — and 
 beyond this, there is no stage in progression to complete union 
 w ith God attainable by man. When the spiritual vision of any 
 man is engrossed by contemplating the beauty of the Divine 
 Essence, by the overpowering influence of the Eternal Spirit, the 
 light of his miderstanding, which is that quality by which we are 
 enabled to distinguish between things, becomes wholly extinguished ; 
 and as * error passeth away on the appearance of Truth,' so is the 
 power of discriminating, between the perishable and the imperish- 
 able, at once removed."* 
 
 Few orthodox Muhammadans give a literal constniction to the 
 
 * CAPrAi:^ W. N. Lees' Biographical Sketch of the Mystic Philosopher 
 and Poet, Jami. Calcutta, 1859. 
 
XXVI REMARKS ON TIIK MYSTIC DOCTUIXE 
 
 words of the IVophet on the subject of predeetiuatiou, although the 
 Kur'fm inculcates such ; for they deem it impious so to do, as 
 there!)}' God wuidd be made the author and cause of man's sin. 
 All Sufis are fatalists, and believe that the principle which emanates 
 from the Almighty can do nothing without His will, and cannot 
 refi-.iin from what He wills that it should do. Some Sufis deny 
 that evil exists at all, because every thing proceeds from God, and 
 must therefore necessarily be good ; and they exclaim, with the 
 poet — 
 
 " The writer of our destiny is a fiiir and truthful writer, 
 And never did he write that wbicli was evil." 
 
 Others, again, admit, that in this wuj-ld the principle of evd doth 
 exist ; but that man is not a free agent ; and quote the following 
 co\iplet, from the Pei-sian poet Hfifiz — 
 
 " "My destiny hath been allotted to the tavern* by the Almiirhty : 
 Then tell me, teacher ! wliere lieth my crime." 
 
 Such is the remiia'kablc doctrine of tlic Sufis, and still more so 
 tlieir language and allegories, which we have been too much 
 accustomed, in Europe, to consider as the wanton and reckless 
 efi'usions of Eastern revcllera, all devoted to the pleasiu-e of the 
 hour — "effusions bright, indeed, with all the gorgeous hues of 
 Eastern colouring, like unto the skies over their heads, or the 
 gardens around them, but yet transient as the simimer's roses, or 
 the nightingale's notes which welcomed them."t 
 • This may be correct as to the oiitward fonn of Eastern jioetry in 
 general ; but most Asiatic poets ai'c Sufis, and if we would attempt 
 to read their poems, wo should also desire to imdei*stand them ; 
 since beneath all this gorgeous and mysterious imagery their lies a 
 
 * Tilt' .sinful world is liere referred to. 
 
 t I-. H. Cow KM.. 
 
AND POETRY OF THE SUFlS. XXVll 
 
 latent signification of far different, and more lasting interest, where 
 the ardent longings and fervid transports of the soul find utterance, 
 which we may look for in vain in the venerated literature of pagan 
 Greece and Rome. Their great Molawl assures xxs that they 
 profess eager desire, but w^ith no carnal affection, and circulate 
 the cup, but no material goblet ; since, in their sect, all things arc 
 spiritual — all is mystery within mystery : 
 
 " All, all on earth is shadow, all beyond 
 Is substance ; the reverse is folly's creed. " 
 
 Sahil-ibn-iEabd-ullah, of Shustar, a celebrated Sufi teacher, states, 
 "That the soul's secret was first revealed when Farfeawn* declared 
 himself a god :" and another. Shaikh Muhi-ud-dlu, ^v^ites, " That 
 the mighty host of the Egyptian monarch was not overwhelmed in 
 the sea of error, but of knowledge :" and in another place, " That 
 the Christians are not infidels because they consider Jesus Chi'ist a 
 God, but because they deem him alone a God." Another author, 
 Agha ^Iuham,mad JEall, of Karmanshah, who, however, is an open 
 enemy of the Sufis, says, that " they ignore the doctrine of reward 
 and punishment," which is as incompatible with their ideas of the 
 soul's re-absorptiou into the divine essence, as with their literal 
 belief of predestination. Some of their most celebrated teachers, 
 however, deny the truth of this statement, and maintain that 
 sinners will be punished in a future state, and tlmt the good will 
 enjoy a much higher and piu-er bliss than the sensual paradise 
 of Muhammad holds out, thus revolting at a literal translation of 
 the Km''an on that subject. 
 
 Another Persian Author, of high reputation f for his piety and 
 judgment, has given a good account of the Sufis and their doctrines. 
 He conceives, with several other Muhammadan wiiters, that some 
 of the principal Muhammadan saints were of the Sufi belief ; but 
 
 * Pharaoh. f Kazi Nur-ullah of Shustar. 
 
XXVlll REMARKS ON THE MYSTIC DOCTRINE 
 
 he applies this name to them, apparently, only as religious euthu- 
 siasts, and no more. He makes a great distinction between those 
 who, whilst they mortified the flesh, and indidged in an euraptm-ed 
 love of the Almighty, still kept within the pale of revealed religion ; 
 and those wild devotees who, abandoning themselves to the frenzied 
 wanderings of a heated imagination, fancied they shoidd draw 
 nearer imto God by departing from every thing deemed rational 
 among men.* 
 
 In another passage, this author states, "Tlie Almighty, after his 
 prophets and holy teachei*s, esteems none more than the pure Sufis, 
 because their desire is to raise themselves, through His gi'ace, from 
 their earthly mansion to the heavenly regions, and to exchange 
 their lowly condition for that of angels. I have stated what I 
 know of them in my Preface. The accomphshed and eloquent 
 among them form two classes, the Hukamfi, or men of science, and 
 the yEulamii, or men of piety and learning. The former seek tnith 
 by demonstration ; the latter, through revelation. There isanotlier 
 class called ^arufa, or men of knowledge, and Awliya, or holy men, 
 who, in endeavouring to reach a state of beatitude, have abandoned 
 the woi-ld. These are also men of science; but as, through Divine 
 grace, they have attained to a state of perfection, their feai-s are 
 believed to be less than those of others who remain in worldly 
 occupations.t Thus they are more exalted, and nearer to the rich 
 inheritance of the Prophet than other men. No doubt there are 
 immineut dangers along the path : there are many false teachers, 
 
 • ^rAiroLM: HisTORT OF Peusia. Some Christians in tlip extreme 
 west of Enjiland Imve preached such doctrines, but practised the contrary. 
 
 t It is related that the disciple of a celebrated Sufi, having some money 
 in his pocket when travelling, began to express his fears. "Castaway 
 thy fear," said the old man. "How can I cast away a feeling/" he 
 replied. "By cnsfing away that wliich excites it," was the answer. He 
 cast his money awav, and, having nothing to lose, felt no fear. 
 
AND POETRY OF THE SOFIS. Xxix 
 
 and many deluded students pursuing the vapour of the desert, like 
 the thirsty traveller ; and these, if they do not rush unto their 
 death, return wearied, grieved, and disappointed, from having been 
 the dupes of their fancy. A true and perfect teacher is most rare ; 
 and when he exists, to discover him is impossible ; for who shall 
 discover pci'fectiou, except He who is himself perfect ? who but the 
 jeweller shall tell the price of the jewel? This is the reason why 
 so many miss the true path, and fall into all the mazes of error. 
 They are deceived by appearances, and waste their lives in the 
 pm-suit of that which is most defective ; conceiving all along that 
 it is most perfect ; and thus lose their time, their virtue, and their 
 religion. It is to save men from this danger, that God, through 
 the Prophet, has warned us to attend to established usages, and to 
 be guided by care and prudence. What has been said applies 
 equally to those who live in the world, and to those who have 
 abandoned it ; for neither abstinence, nor devotion, can exclude 
 the Devil, who will seek retired mendicants, clothed in the garb of 
 divinity ; and these, like other men, will discover that real know- 
 ledge is the only talisman by which the dictates of the good can 
 be distinguished from those of the evil spu'it. The traveller, on 
 the path of Sufi-ism, must not, therefore, be destitute of worldly 
 knowledge, otherwise he will be alike exposed to danger from excess 
 or deficiency of zeal, and he will certainly act contrary to the most 
 sacred of his duties. A senseless man is likely to exceed the just 
 bounds, in the practice of abstinence and abstraction, and then 
 both his bodily and mental frame become affected, and he loses his 
 laboiu- and his object." 
 
 "The Sufi teacher," continues Kazi Nur-ullah, "professes to 
 instruct his disciple how to restore the inward man by purifying 
 the spirit, cleansing the heart, enlightening the head, and anoint- 
 ing the soul : and when all this is done, they afiirm that his desires 
 shall be accomplished, and his depraved qualities changed into 
 
XXX REMARKS ON THE MYSTIC DOCTRU^E 
 
 higher attributes, and he shall prove and understand the conditions, 
 the revelations, the stages, and gradations of exaltation, till he 
 arrives at the ineffable enjojTnent of beholding and contemplating 
 God. If teachers have not arrived at tliis consummation of per- 
 fection themselves, it is obvious, that to seek knowledge or hap- 
 piness from them is a waste of time ; and the devoted cUsciple will 
 either terminate his labour in assuming the sixme character of 
 impo8tiu*e that he has found in his instructor, or he will consider 
 all SuHs alike, and condemn this whole sect of philosopher. 
 
 " It often happens, that sensible and well-informed men follow a 
 master, who, though able, has not arrived at the virtue and 
 sanctity which constitute perfection : liis disciples conceiving that 
 none are better or more holy than their teacher and themselves, 
 and yet, disappointed at not reaching that stage of enjoyment 
 which they expected to arrive at, seek relief from the reproaches of 
 their own mind in scepticism. They doubt, on the ground of their 
 pei-sonal experience, all that they have lieard or read, aud believe 
 that the accounts of the hoi}' men who have, in this world, attained 
 a state of beatitude, are only a string of fables. This is a dangerous 
 error; and I must therefore repeat, that those who seek truth 
 should be most careful to commence with prudence and modera- 
 tion, lest they be lost in the mazes I have described ; and, from 
 meeting with evils of their own creation, should give way to dis- 
 appointment and grief; and, by expelling from their minds that 
 ardent fervour which belongs to true zeal, shoiUd disqualify them- 
 selves for the must glorious of all human piu"suits."* 
 
 The Sufis are divided into innumerable sects, as must be expected 
 regarding a doctrine, which may be called an ideal belief. It will 
 not bo necessaiy to the present subject to enumerate them all ; 
 for though they differ in designation tmd some minor us;iges, they 
 
 • Malcolm. 
 
AND POETRY OF THE SCFIS. XXXl 
 
 all agree as to the principal tenets of their creed ; particularly in 
 inculcating the absolute necessity of entire submission to their 
 inspii'ed teachers, and the feasibility, thi'ough fervent piety, and 
 enthusiastic devotion, of the soul's attaining a state of heavenly 
 beatification, whilst the body is yet an inhabitant of this terrestrial 
 sphere. 
 
 I have refrained from attempting to give any description of the 
 extraordinary phases the Sufi belief has, from time to time, assumed 
 in Hindustan, where it has ever flom'ished, and where it has been 
 beneficial in tending to unite the opposite elements of Muhammad- 
 anism and Hinduism, as shown more particularly in the events of 
 the life of Nanak Shah, the (/mu or spiritual guide of the Sikhs, 
 and founder of their religion. On the Bombay side of India, also, it 
 has even taken root among the Gabrs or Parsis. Many of the 
 usages and opinions of the Sufis bear a similarity to those of the 
 Gnostics, and other Christian sects, as well as to some of the phi- 
 losophers among the ancient Greeks. The Sufi writers are familiar 
 with Plato and Aristotle : their more celebrated works abound with 
 quotations from the former. It has often been asserted that the 
 Greeks borrowed their knowledge and philosophy from the East ; and, 
 if correct, the debt has been well repaid. Should an accovmt of 
 Pythagoras be translated into the Persian or other Eastern language, 
 it would be read as that of a Sufi saint. " His initiation into the 
 mysteries of the Divine nature, his deep contemplation and ab- 
 straction, his miracles, his passionate love of music, his mode of 
 teaching his disciples, the persecution he suffered, and the manner 
 of his death, present us with a close parallel to what is related of 
 many eminent Sufi teachers, and may lead to a supposition that 
 there must be something similar, in the state of knowledge and of 
 society, where the same causes produce the same effects."* 
 
 * Malcolm. 
 
XXxii REMARKS ON THE DOCTRINE AND POETRY OF THE SCfIS. 
 
 In the same manner as with Hafiz's poems in Persian, many of 
 the following odes, particularly those of Rahman and Hanild, are 
 commonly sung all over Afghanistan, as popular songs ai-e simg in 
 Europe ; but the singers, generally, unless educated men, have little 
 idea of the deep meaning that lies beneath. 
 
J]ABD-UR-11AHMAN. 
 
 MuLLA yEabd-ur-Rahman is one of the most popular, and probably 
 the best known, of all the A fgh an poets. His effusions are of a 
 religious or moral chai-acter, and chiefly on the subject of divine 
 love, being, like the poetical compositions of all Muhammadau 
 poets, tinged with the mysticisms of Suti-ism, already described in 
 the Introductory Remarks ; but there is a fiery energy in his style, 
 and a natural simplicity, which will be vainly sought for amongst 
 the more flowery and bombastic poetry of the Persians. 
 
 Rahman belonged to the Ghorlah Khel clan or sub-division, 
 of the Mohmand tribe of the Afghans, and dwelt in the village 
 of Hazar-KhanI, in the tapah or district of the ^lohmands, one of 
 the five divisions of the province of Peshawar. He was a man of 
 considerable learning, but lived the life of a Dai'wesh, absorbed in 
 religious contemplation, and separated from the world, with which, 
 and with its people, he held no greater intercovu-se than necessity 
 and the means of subsistence demanded. He is said to have 
 been passionately fond of hearing rehgious songs, accompanied by 
 some musical instrument, which the Chasti sect of Muhammadans* 
 appears to have a great partiality for. After a time, when the 
 gift of poesy was bestowed upon him, he became a strict recluse, 
 
 * So called from a celebrated devotee named Musein-ud-Din, who dwelt 
 at a place named Chast, in Arabia. The sect still exists in Afghanistrm 
 and the Panjab. 
 
 B 
 
^ iEABD-UK-ltAIIMAN. 
 
 uad was generally found by his friends in tears. Indeed, he is 
 said t«) have been in the habit of weeping so much, as in course 
 of time to have produced wounds on both his cheeks. His strict 
 retirement, however, gave oj)portunity to a number of envious 
 Mullas to belie him ; and they begjui to circxdate reports to the 
 effect, that Rahman had timied atheist or heretic, since he never 
 left his dwelling, and had even given up woi-shipping at the 
 mosque along with the congregation — a matter strictly enjoined 
 on all orthodox Muhammadans. At length, by the advice and 
 assistance of some of the priesthood, more liberal and less bigoted 
 than his enemies, he contrived to escape from their hands, by 
 agreeing, for the future, to attend the ])lace of public worship, 
 and to pray and perform his other religious duties, along with the 
 members of the congregation. He thus, whether agreeable to 
 himself or not, was obliged in some measure to mix with the 
 world ; and this, doubtless, gave rise to the ode at page 2'J, t<> 
 which the reader is refeired. 
 
 Kahmrm appears to have been in the habit of giving the copies 
 of his poems, as he composed them, from time to time, to his 
 pailicular friends, which they, unknown to each other, took oarr 
 to collect and preserve, for the express puijjose of making a 
 collection of them after the author's death. This they acc(ml 
 ingly cjUTied out, and it was not until llahman's decease that 
 these facts became known. It then apjieared also, that some t)f 
 these psoudo friends had, to increase the bidk of tlieir own col- 
 lection of the poet's odes, mixed up a (Hiantity of their own trashy 
 compositions with Kahman's, and had added, or rather forged, hi-- 
 naine to them in the last couplets. In this manner two of thesi- 
 collections of odes were made, and were styled Rahman's firet and 
 second. I'ortunately for his reputation, these forgeries were dis 
 covered in time, by some of the dearest of the poet's friends, who 
 recognised or remembered the particular i)oems of his composi- 
 
.EABD-UR-RAHMAN. 3 
 
 tion ; and they accordiugly rejected the chaft', retaining the wheat 
 only, in the sliape of his Diwan, or alphabetical collection of odes, 
 as it has come do\ra to the present day. Still, considerable differ- 
 ences exist in many copies, some odes having a line more or a 
 line less, whilst some again contain odes that are entirely wanting 
 in others. This caused me considerable trouble when preparing 
 several of them for insertion in my " Selections in the Af^fm 
 Language ;" but it was attended with a proportionate degi'ee of 
 advantage, having altogether compared some sixty different cojiies 
 of the poet's works, of various dates, some of which wei-e wi'itten 
 shortly after Rahman's death, when his friends had succeeded in 
 collecting the poems in a single volume. 
 
 By some accounts, the poet would apj)ear to have been a co- 
 temporary of the waiTior-poet, Khushhal Khan ;* and it has been 
 stated, that on two or three occasions they held poetical disputa- 
 tions together. This, however, cannot be true ; for it seems that 
 although Rahman was living towards the latter part of that brave 
 chieftain's life, yet he was a mere youth, and was, more con'ectly 
 speaking, a cotemporary of Afzal Khan's, the grandson and suc- 
 cessor of Khushhal. and the author of that rare, excellent, and 
 extensive Afghan history, entitled, " Tarikh-i-Murassase," and other 
 valuable works. A jDroof of the incoiTectness of this statement 
 is, that the tragical end of Gul Khan and Jamal Khan, which 
 Rahman and the poet Hamid also have devoted a long poem to,+ 
 took j)lace in the year of the Hijrah 1123 (a. d. 1711), twenty-five 
 years after the death of Khushhal. Another, and still stronger 
 proof against the statement of poetical disputations having taken 
 place between them, is the fact of Rahman's retired life, and his 
 humble position, as compared with that of Khushhal, the chief of a 
 powerful tribe, and as good a poet as himself. 
 
 * See Memoir preceding his poems, 
 t See Hainid, Poem XLI. and note. 
 
4 ^EABD-UK-RAIIMAN. 
 
 Some descendants of Rahman, on his daughter's side, dwell at 
 present in the little hamlet of Deh-i-Bahadur (the Hamlet of the 
 Brave), in the Muhmand district ; but the descendants on the side 
 of his only son have long been extinct. 
 
 The poet's tomb may still be seen in the graveyard of his native 
 village. 
 
THE POEMS 
 
 J3ABD-UII-RAHMAN. 
 
 IN THE NAME OF THE MOST MERCIFUL GOD ! 
 
 I. 
 
 Behold ! such an Omnipotent Being is my God, 
 
 That He is the possessor of all power, authority, and will. 
 
 Should one euvimerate all the most mighty, pure, and eminent, 
 My God is mightier, purer, and more eminent than all. 
 
 No want, nor requirement of His, is dependant upon any one ; 
 Neither is my God under obligation, nor beholden to any. 
 
 Out of nothingness He produced the form of entity ; 
 
 In such wise is my God the Creator, and the Nomisher of all. 
 
 He is the artist and the artificer of all and every created thing : 
 My God is, likewise, the hearer of every word and accent. 
 
 That which hath neither type nor parallel any^vhere, 
 
 Its essence and its nature, its material and its principle, my God is. 
 
 All the structiu-es, whether of this world or of that to come, 
 My God is the architect, and the builder of them all. 
 
 He is the decipherer and the construer of the unwritten pages — 
 The unfolder and the elucidator of all mysteries my God is. 
 
b .EABD-UR-UAHMAN. 
 
 Apparent or manifest ; hidden or obscure ; intermediate or iutex*- 
 
 calary ; 
 My God is cognizant of, and fimiiliar with, all matters and things. 
 
 He hath neither partner nor associate — His dominion is from Him- 
 self alone — 
 A sovereign, without colleague or coadjutor, my God is. 
 
 Not that His luiity and individuality proceed from impuissance ; 
 For, in His one and unique nature, He is infinite, unlimited. 
 
 They have neither need nor necessity of the friendship of others, 
 Unto whom my God is beneficently and graciously inclined. 
 
 "WTierefore then the occasion that I should seek Him elsewhere, 
 Since, in mine own dwelling, my God is ever at my side ? 
 
 O Kahman ! He is neither liable to change, nor to mutatiuu — 
 My God is unchangeable and immutable, for ever and ever ! 
 
 II. 
 
 My wcc])ing for the beloved hath passed beyond all computation 
 Yet the dear one is in no way aft'ected at the sight of my tears. 
 
 Though eveiy one of my words shoidd be pearls of gi-eat price, 
 Still she doth not accoimt them at all worthy of her eai-s. 
 
 Were she overcome by sleep, I would arouse her by my cries ; 
 But though fully awalvc, my loved one is asleep imto me. 
 
 Like mito a writing, I speak, though with mouth covered ; 
 But my silence sui-passeth my wails and my lamentations. 
 
 AVlicii is there security for the crop of love in scorching gi-ouml ? 
 It requiretli a salamander U) exist in this desert of mine. 
 
iEABD-UR-RAiniAN. 7 
 
 This is not my love that sepai-ation hath parted from me : 
 
 'Tis my soid, which hath become separated from this body of mine. 
 
 I, Rahman, desire naught else than the beloved of my heart, 
 Shoidd my prayer be accepted at the threshold of the Almighty. 
 
 III. 
 
 There is no return for thee, a second time, unto this world ! 
 To-day is thy opportunity, whether thou followcst evil or good ! 
 
 Everj' thing for which the opportunity is gone, is the phoenix of our 
 
 desires ; 
 But the immortal bird hath never been caught in any one's net. 
 
 The stream, that hath left the sluice, floweth not back again ! 
 The hour, which hath passed away, retunicth to us no more ! 
 
 For time is, alas ! like unto the dead in the sepulchre's niche ; 
 And no one hath brought, by weeping, the dead to life again. 
 
 If thou hast any object to attain, be quick, for time is short : 
 Flatter not thj^self on the permanency of this brief existence ! 
 
 Each target, of which, in thy heart, thou considerest thj^self sure, 
 Through pride and vanity, thou wilt sm-ely miss thine aim of 
 
 Over-sanguine hope hath rendered many desponding : 
 Be not otF thy guard as to the deceit and fraud of time ! 
 
 When thy mouth becometh shattered by the stroke of death. 
 In what manner wilt thou then offer praises with it 1 
 
 The bereaved woman, who giveth utterance to her bewailings, 
 Lamenteth over thee, if thon understandest what she says. 
 
 Thou art not a child, that one should teach thee by force : 
 Thou art wise and intelligent, and arrived at maturity's years. 
 
8 JiAHD-L'K-KAllMAN. 
 
 Exercise, then, tliine'owai undei'staiKUng as to good and evil, 
 'WTiether tliy well-being lieth in this, or in that. 
 
 Conceal thy face beneath thy mantle, and open thine eyes : 
 Fly not far away on the winds of vanity and ambition ! 
 
 Soar not unto the heavens with thy head in the air, 
 
 For thou art, originally, from the dust of the earth created. 
 
 At the last day, inquiry will not be made of thee. 
 
 As to whether thou art the son or grandson of such an one. 
 
 To the bride, who may not be handsome in her own pci-st)n, 
 What signify her mother's or her grandmother's good looks ? 
 
 Practise goodness in thine own pci-son, and feai* evil ! 
 Presimie not on the virtues of thy father or thy mother ! 
 
 Tliese precepts, my friend ! I urge upon myself : 
 Be not then grieved that I have made use of thy name. 
 
 I use thine and those of others, but speak to myself alone : 
 With any one else, I have neither motive nor concern. 
 
 AMiatever I iittcr, I address the whole unto myself : 
 All these failings and defects are only mine own. 
 
 Had I a place for these sorrows within my own breast, 
 WHiy should I give utterance unto these declamations ? 
 
 Since the racking pains of moi'tality are before thee, 
 Why dost thou not die, O 11 ah man ! before they come i 
 
 IV 
 
 No one hath |)rovi'(l any of the world's faithfulness or sincerity ; 
 And none, but the faitiiless and j)erfidious, liavc any aft'cction fur it. 
 
^ABD-UR-RAHMAN. [) 
 
 They who may lay any claim imto it, as belonging to them, 
 Speak wholly luider delusion ; for the world is no one's o\\ai. 
 
 Fortune is like unto a potter — it fashioneth and breaketh : 
 Many, like unto me and thee, it hath created and destroyed. 
 
 Every stone and clod of the world, that may be looked upon, 
 Are all sculls ; some those of kings, and some of beggars. 
 
 It behoveth not that one should place a snare in the world's path ; 
 For the captm-e of the giiffin and the phosnix cannot be effected. 
 
 Who can place any dependence upon this fleeting breath 1 
 It is impossible to confine the wind with the strongest chain ! 
 
 Whether the sun or the moon, the upshot is extinction : 
 Doth the flower always bloom 1 Nothing can exist for ever ! 
 
 Walk not, Rahman ! contrary to the ways of the enlightened ; 
 Since the love of the world is not approved of by any wise man. 
 
 V. 
 
 If one seek a charmer in the world, this is the one : 
 This is the dear one, who is the ornament of the imiverse. 
 
 There will not be such another lover in it as myself; 
 Nor will ever such a beloved one be created like thee. 
 
 I had shown patience under thy harshness and cruelty ; 
 But, in the 2^1ace of lamentation, joy and gladness cannot be. 
 
 I wiU never consent to be separated from thee. 
 
 So long as my soul is not separated from this body of mine. 
 
 Like unto the congregation behind, with the priest before, 
 In such wise have I imitated and followed thee. 
 
10 .hAJ!l)-LK-KAHMAN. 
 
 I am not the only oue — the whole world loveth thee ! 
 WTiether it be the beggar, or the sovereign of the age. 
 
 Would that thou wouldst grant nic a deed of protection, 
 Since thou puttcst me off with the promise of to-moiTow I 
 
 'T is not that of mine own accord I am smitten with thee 
 'T was a voice from thy direction that reached me. 
 
 Indeed, from all eteniit}-, I am devoted mito thee — 
 It is not that to-day only, I have a beginning made. 
 
 When with the sword of thy love it shall be severed. 
 Then will the neck of Uaii.max have its duty performed. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Tlie godly arc the light and the refulgence of the world : 
 The pious arc the guides and the directors of mankind. 
 
 If any one seek the way unto God and his rrojihct, 
 The devout are the guides to point out the path. 
 
 The alchemist, that searcheth about for the philosopher's stone, 
 Will tiiid it the bosom companion of the siuictified. 
 
 In ttio society of the enlightened, he will turn to red gold, 
 lliough a person may -be as a stone or a clod of the desert. 
 
 The ignorant are, as it were, like luito the dead : 
 Verily, the wise arc like unto the saints themselves. 
 
 The enlightened are, compiuutively, like luito the Messiah; 
 Since, from their breath, the dead retiun to life iigain. 
 
 lie who may not possess some j)ortion of wisdom 
 
 Is not a man : he is, as if wire, l>ut an empty model. 
 
JSABD-UR-RAHMAN. 1 1 
 
 I, RAHsrAN, am the servant of every enlightened being, 
 Whether he be of the highest, the middle, or the lowest degree. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Come, do not be the source of trouble unto any one ; 
 
 For this short life of thine will soon be lost, fixithless one ! 
 
 No one is to be a taiTier behind, in this world : 
 All are to be departers, either to-day or to-morrow. 
 
 Those dear fi-iends, who to-day bloom before thee, 
 Will, in two or three short days, fade and decay. 
 
 If the sight of any be pleasing to thee, cherish them : 
 After they wither and die, when will they again revive 1 
 
 The leaves of autumn, that fall from the branch. 
 By no contrivance can the sage attach them again. 
 
 When the rain-drops ftill from the sky upon the earth. 
 
 They cannot again ascend unto the heavens whence they came. 
 
 Imagine not, that those tears which the eye sheddeth. 
 Shall e'er again retiun to the eyes they flowed from. 
 
 This is a different smi that riseth every mom : 
 The smi, that setteth once, riseth not again. 
 
 Though paradise is not gained by devotion, without gi'ace ; 
 Still, every man his neck from the debt must release.* 
 
 Shoiddst thou incur a himdred toils for the flesh's sake, 
 Not one shall be of any avail to-morrow unto thee. 
 
 * See Mirza, Poem VI., second note. 
 
I'l uEAbU-UK-RAllMAN. 
 
 Shouldst thou gorge thy stomach with the world itself, 
 
 Thou wilt not be remembered, either in blessings or in jmiyoi-s. 
 
 Shouldst thou give but a grain of com unto the hungered, 
 Verily, it will be hereafter tliy provision in eternity. 
 
 Shouldst thou bestow ])ut a dri)p of water on the thirsty, 
 It will become an ocean between thee and the fire of hell. 
 
 Shouldst thou once bow thy head in the road of the .tUmighty, 
 Thou shalt, at the last day, be more exalted than any. 
 
 This world, then, is the mart, if one be inclined to traffic ; 
 Hut in that world there is neither barter nor gain. 
 
 If friends comprehend aught, to-day is their time, 
 That one friend may show self-devotion to another. 
 
 If there is any real existence here, of a truth 'tis this. 
 That in some one's society it should in happiness pass. 
 
 May God protect us from such a state of existence, 
 Wlierc thou mayst speak ill of others, and othere of thee. 
 
 Poison even, is pleasant, if it be in jieace and in concord ; 
 But not sugar, combined with sedition and with strife. 
 
 The belly, filled with rubbish, is well, if free from son-ow ; 
 But uot so, though gorged with confection of the dregs of woe. 
 
 The back, bent from toil, is indeed estimable ; 
 
 But not from a pxirse of ill-gotten money round the waist.* 
 
 A blind man, who sccth nothing, is truly excellent ; 
 Better than that he should set eyes on another man's wife. 
 
 * It is customary in tlic East to carry money in a luirsc or i)elt, 
 fasteiu'd round thf wai.-t. 
 
yEABD-UR-RAHMAN. 13 
 
 A dumb person is far bettei* without palate or tongue, 
 
 Than that his tongue should become the utterer of evil words. 
 
 A deaf man, who cannot hear, is preferable by far, 
 Than that his ears should be open to scandalous tales. 
 
 Demon or devil, that may come upon one, is agreeable ; 
 But let not the lUmighty a bad man before thee bring ! 
 
 Than to beai* the society of a fool, it is more preferable 
 That a fiery dragon should become one's bosom friend. 
 
 If there be a real difficulty, it is the healing of hearts ; 
 But the profit and loss of the world are trifling affairs. 
 
 Its advantages, or its detriments, are trivial matters — 
 
 God forbid that any one become infamous for despicable things ! 
 
 Forbid that any such desire of tliine be accomplished, 
 "WTiereby the heart of thy brother or relation be grieved ! 
 
 Should one eat delicious food, and another be eyeing it, 
 Such is not victuals, it is mere poison, so to speak. 
 
 It behoveth at times to respect other's wishes, at times thine own ; 
 But thine own good pleasm-e is not to be regarded always. 
 
 The wise concern not themselves in such matters. 
 
 In which there's constant grief, and not an hoiu-'s pleasure. 
 
 It is incumbent on judges to administer justice ; 
 But not to give their ears unto venal things. 
 
 Thoughts and ideas of all sorts enter into man's mind ; 
 But it is not meet to accoimt them all right and just. 
 
 The devout should have a constant eye towards their faith ; 
 For some thouo-hts are virtues, whilst others are sins. 
 
14 .T:Ani)-UR-RAHMAN. 
 
 God forbid that iniquity proceed from any one's hands ! 
 
 What affinity is tlicrc between sin and innocence — evil and good ? 
 
 It is not that all men are efpially on a parity tojrcthcr ; 
 For some are eminent, some indifferent, some vile and base. 
 
 Tlic di,i,niity of every one lieth witliin its own degree : 
 
 It is not meet that the groom should the noble's rank acquire. 
 
 I, KAnM.vx, neither thank, nor complain of any one ; 
 For I liave no other friend or enemy but myself. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 He hath obtained happiness and felicity in this wovlil, 
 Who in it hath acquired cDutcntment and peace. 
 
 The doniiniiin of Solomon, for a thou.sand years, 
 Kqualeth nut an hour's dovtition, in this wi>rld. 
 
 One breath, in remembrance of the Deity, is more inestimable 
 Than the whole wealth of the imivcrso, in this world. 
 
 They have fnuul advantage and emt^hmicnt in it, 
 Wiio occupied themselves in piety, in this world. 
 
 If there be any blessing, truly, it is that of devotion : 
 C'onsider that there is no greater good, in this world. 
 
 If there be any toils an I troubles, verily they are religion's : 
 No other lulioiu's and trials are of avail, in this world. 
 
 All, all is transitory, and perisheth, save the Almighty, 
 Whether it be jileasure, or wliether it be luauty, in this W(M-ld. 
 
yEABD-UR-RAHJlAN. 15 
 
 Even the monai'ch, he gocth down unto tlie ihust at last : 
 Then what is gloiy, and what is fame, in this world V' 
 
 There will be no greater blockhead therein, than he 
 Who seeketh for happiness or tranquillity, in this world. 
 
 Thou, who desu'est in this life a short period of repose, 
 Say, hath any one yet obtained it, in this W(jrld '? 
 
 Relentless fate will make it like unto the shifting sands,t 
 Whoever buildeth up a structiu-e, in this world. 
 
 It is not a whit less than the stumbling of the diainkard, 
 IMan's brief stability and continuance, in this world. 
 
 Come near the running stream — here behold life ! 
 There are many such like emblems, iu this world. 
 
 Every one that approacheth the graveyard of the dead. 
 Should consider it a sufficient admonition, in this world. 
 
 These massive courts, these firm and compact mansions. 
 Will certainly at last be desolate, in this world. 
 
 The insatiable eyes of destiny, indeed, are not such 
 That they siifter any one to be in safety, in this world. 
 
 * " The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r, 
 And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, 
 Await alike th' inevitable hour. 
 The paths of glory lead but to the grave." 
 
 t The Seg-i-rawdn, or " Moving sand," situated forty miles north of 
 Kabul, towards the mountains of Hindu Kusb, and near the base of the 
 mountains. It is a sheet of pure sand, in height about 400 feet, and 
 100 broad, and lies at an angle of 45". This sand is constantly shifting-, 
 and they say that in the summer season a sound like that of di'ums may 
 be heard issuing- from it. See " Bur:xes's Cabool," 
 
Ifi iEABD-UR-RAHMAN. 
 
 Whatever cometh into it, departeth from it agjxiu : 
 All creatures are merely travellers, in this witrUl. 
 
 When the judgment cometh, uu«tcrities cannot be practised : 
 He is the man, who hath mortiKed the flesh, in this world. 
 
 Since to-moiTow he will rise again with the same qualities, 
 Let not Ood give any one an evil nature, in this world ! 
 
 That will, verily, be inito him a harvest after death, 
 Whatever he may have sown in the field of this world. 
 
 Although that world cannot be seen here below ; 
 
 Yet I can perceive its signs and its omens, in this world.* 
 
 There will be no reciprocity of viaticum in the last da}- ; 
 For I have myself beheld doomsday, in this world. 
 
 They will go down into the tomb as a deposit also, 
 WTioever may exist as a deposit, in this world.f 
 
 Virtue is present bliss ; but propitious fortune is necessary, 
 That one may acquire felicity, in this world. 
 
 Good habits, virtuous actions, and a noble disposition, 
 Are paradise and happiness, too, in this world. 
 
 Contrariety and opjiosition plunge a man's life in toniient : 
 Such antagonism is of no avail, in this world. 
 
 The hand to the forehead, and on the breast,]: to every one : 
 lliis, indeed, is greatness and distinction, in this world. 
 
 * That i.s to siiy, tlic .<igns and omens of the approach of the end of 
 the world. 
 
 t Tlie de|>o.sit ur pledge for the ob.^eivaiice of faith and obedience unto 
 God. See Mirzii, Poem VI., second note. 
 
 I The mode of salutation in Ka.-^tcrn countrio.-* i.s, by raising the right 
 hand to the forehead, or l)y plucing it to the breast. 
 
^AUD-UR-RAHMAN. 17 
 
 If exalted rank be of advantage unto any one, 
 A high place is justice and equity, in this world. 
 
 No other regrets can be taken out of it by us. 
 Save those of affection and kindness, in this world. 
 
 The whole of that world's traffic is carried on in this, 
 If one desire to follow commerce, in this world. 
 
 If man's good fortune may not have become inverted, 
 The tiaith is by no means hidden from him, in this world. 
 
 It behoveth that good be rendered for good, evil for evil, 
 If any one seek after holiness, in this world. 
 
 The Almighty hath bestowed sanctity upon them. 
 
 Who have shown stedfastness and constancy, in this world. 
 
 Should all created beings combine in union together, 
 They will not be able to change their lot, in this world. 
 
 If any one here below can be called a man, verily 'tis he 
 Who may have neither need nor necessity, in this world. 
 
 Since solicitude on its account is the cause of all sin, 
 How can people show such a hankering, for this world 1 
 
 Over Rahman, indeed, this life hath passed awa}'. 
 Even as a short horn- glideth away, in this world. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Consider not the wise of this world shrewd and sagacious ; 
 For foolish and silly are all the wise ones of this world. 
 
 The light of wisdom is prohibited vmto those hearts. 
 On which may rest the dirt and dust of this world. 
 
 c 
 
18 ^ABD-UR-RAHMAN, 
 
 \\Ti.it one of the world saith, is all nonsense and absurdity : 
 Emptiness and folly are every word and speech of this world. 
 
 They merely play and <:ambol, after the manner of infants, 
 Who occuj)y themselves with the affaii-s of this world. 
 
 Like unto babies, with their mouths filled with milk. 
 Are all the subtle and the experienced of this world. 
 
 He will ever continue to be a dolt and an idiot, 
 
 Who may be drunk from the intoxication of tliis world. 
 
 In truth, the toper's inebriation will not be so great 
 
 As will be that of the drunken with tlie wine of this world. 
 
 Tliere is a medicine in the world for every sick person ; 
 But, alas ! there is no physic for the sick of tliis world. 
 
 The cure of eveiy one that hath been burned can be effected ; 
 But not that of the scorched from the fiery sparks of this world. 
 
 Whatever thou throwcst into the fire consumcth away ; 
 And satiated will never become the seeker of this world : 
 
 He wiU ever be as a captive, sunk in distress and soitow ; 
 Then God forbid one should become the slave of tins world ! 
 
 He will be for ever inimcrsed in lurid gloom and darkness, 
 Whoever may be the captive of the infidel of this world. 
 
 Wliether it be adoration \uito the idol, or imto the world, 
 Still, idolators all, are the woi-shiijpere of this world. 
 
 He is the true Muslim amongst the whole of the Faithful, 
 Who hath burst asunder the Hindu cord* of this world. 
 
 * The Brahmanical cord. Also a belt, or cord more particularly, worn 
 round the middle by the Eastern Christians and Jews, and by the Persian 
 Magi. It was introduced a.d. S.jD, by the KhalU'ah Mutawakkil, to 
 distiii^fuish them from Muhauiniadans. 
 
iEABD-UR-RAHMAN. 19 
 
 Headless behiBd, his body remaineth, biit the head will go ; 
 How, theu, is the possessor of a head, a head-man of this world ?* 
 
 They make their sons and daughters orphans, and desert them — 
 All ai-e imuatural — the fathers and the mothers of this world. 
 
 There will be a load of misery for ever upon his head, 
 Round which may be wrapped the turban of this world. 
 
 All is affliction ; whether it be bought, or whether it be sold ; 
 For there is nought else whatever in the bazar of this world. 
 
 They cheat and impose — the whole fraternity are knaves — 
 All the buyers, and all the sellers of this world. 
 
 They will never show the least affection towards it, 
 A\Tio may be acquainted with the secrets of this world. 
 
 He whose regard may be directed to religion and piety, 
 Fostereth not any hopes or expectations of this world. 
 
 He who quaileth at the sight of a precipice or an abyss, 
 Will never travel upon the dangerous path of this world. 
 
 The whole of its friends and associates are impostors — 
 
 ^yhat dependence can be placed on the deceivers of this world ? 
 
 Its old and its young, alike, are all rivals of each other — 
 ^\Tiere is the true friend in the region of this world ? 
 
 ^Miatever may be created, the whole shall fade and perish — 
 Draw near ! behold the raids and ravages of this world ! 
 
 Unto whom it cometh, from him it again departeth ; 
 
 For I have well obsei'ved the gait and movements of this world. 
 
 * The play upon the words ' head' and * head-man ' here is almost lost 
 in the translation. 
 
 c2 
 
20 ^ABD-UR-RAHMAN. 
 
 One hour it may be spring — in another, autumn will come ; 
 For no permanence whatever, hath the spring of this world. 
 
 Though thousands of props shoiild be placed to support it. 
 Without foundation, notwithstanding, is the wall of this world. 
 
 Though thou shouldst raise round thyself a fortress of iron, 
 Still consider but as glass all tlie bulwarks of this world. 
 
 In the same manner as the sun's shadow shifteth. 
 
 So likewise there is nowhere permanence in this world. 
 
 Entertain thou no hope of pre-eminence by its means ; 
 For incessant and perpetual is the littleness of this world. 
 
 Without shears they sever the thread of man's existence, 
 Both the nights and the days of this world. 
 
 After death, an account will be required of ever}' man. 
 As to the nunil)er and magnitude of the sins of this world. 
 
 They will be but a mere handful of dust at tlio last day. 
 The rosy -cheeked and the rosy-bodied of this world. 
 
 They will arise on an equality with the beggar together, 
 Both the princes and the sovereigns of this W(n-ld. 
 
 Tliere will be a brand impressed upon the miser's breast 
 By every darliam and every dinar* of this world. 
 
 Let them be an oblation to the contentment of the contented, 
 All the wealth and the wealthy ones of this world. 
 
 Themselves, after death, will become the injured and oppressed — 
 All the t}Tants and the oppressors of this world. 
 
 * Names of Arabic coin.-^. Tlio darham is of .-silver, mid the d'tunr o{ 
 jrold. 
 
.EABD-UR-RAHMAN. 21 
 
 Tliey may enumerate tens and luindreds until doomsday, 
 But no one hath completed tlie numeration of this world. 
 
 When the time for the winding-sheet and the ablution cometh,* 
 Unveiled and exposed become the veiled and modest of this world. 
 
 They will be brought forth on the bier from their privacy, 
 Both the coy and the bashful of this world. 
 
 More than any other person the Prophet would have enjoyed, 
 Had there been any thing like propinquity in this world. 
 
 One even of its iniquities cannot be fully explained by Rahman ; 
 For beyond all computation, is the wickedness of this world. 
 
 X. 
 
 Since thou passest thy days in jollity, and thy nights in slumber. 
 When, unfortunate ! wilt thou bring the Almighty to mind 1 
 
 Thy departure, if thou art aware, will be extremely precipitate — 
 Be not, then, unmindful of the exceeding shortness of life ! 
 
 Thy breath and thy footsteps here are all, all computed ; 
 Therefore step not on this path inconsiderately and in error. 
 
 In the book, the Almighty hath sent a statement of the account : 
 See, then, thou make thyself with both account and book ac- 
 quainted. 
 
 I am fully aware that, originally, thou art of the earth ; 
 
 ^^^ly then, with thy finger, removest thou the dust from thy person 1 
 
 Not until thy thirst for this world shall have become quenched, 
 Shalt thou, at the judgment, become satiated with the water of life. 
 
 * Referring to the custom, in the East, of washing the bodies of deceased 
 persons before dressing- them out in their gnive-clothes. 
 
22 JiABD-UR-RAHMAN. 
 
 To the same extent thy inside shall be filled with fire, 
 As, to-day, it is gorged, with wine and with roasted meat. 
 
 Weigh thou, then, with thine ovai hands, this good and evil, 
 As to how much thy wicked actions do exceed the good. 
 
 In that world, after what manner will tliy answer be. 
 Seeing that in this, thuu art wholly nnable to reply? 
 
 To-day tliat thtm rnnnest to the shade for shelter from the sim : 
 When it stands but a spear's height* above thee, what wilt thou do ? 
 
 Acquiesce not, Rahman ! in causing affliction inito any one, 
 If thou desirest salvation from the torments to come. 
 
 XI. 
 
 In this world, the countenance of the beloved is the object — there 
 
 is naught else ; 
 Whatever it is, the sight of the adorcd-one is desired, and naught 
 
 else. 
 
 When I contemplate separation and association with the lioloved, 
 Tiie one is torment, the other a paradise of flowei"s, and naught 
 else. 
 
 Each of the eyelashes of the beloved pierccth me to this degree, 
 That I declare it is the two-edged sword of /Eali,t and naught else. 
 
 * According to tlie Miiliamraailan religion, the sun at the rostinvction 
 will be no further utftliaua mile, or (as .some translate the word, the 
 signification of which is ambiguous) than the length of a spear, or even 
 of a Imdkin. 
 
 t Zu-l-tikfir, flie name of the famous two-edgeil sword of ,Kali, the 
 son-in-law of Mulianunad, and wliicli tlie latter reported lie had received 
 from the anuel (labritl. 
 
J3ABD-UR-RAHMAN. 23 
 
 It requiretli a licro to raise tlic tresses around her face : 
 
 The last is a treasure-hoard, the others are snakes,* and naught else. 
 
 How shall I recite the praises of the charms of the fair ! 
 I speak briefly — they are innumerable, and naught else. 
 
 In whatever direction I listen, wdth the ears of the heart, 
 I find it is all love's market in a bustle, and naught else. 
 
 The whole of the world's factories, that one seeth around him, 
 lliey all belong unto the empire of love, and naught else. 
 
 Eveiy physician before whom I present myself saith, 
 
 " Thou art sick throvigh love ; indeed, it is naught else." 
 
 Should poor Rahman place his affections on any other save thee. 
 He will assuredly be deserving of death, and naught else. 
 
 XII. 
 
 From how long since am I a purchaser of thy face ! 
 
 I am gone beyond life and goods, in the mart of thy face. 
 
 There is naught else before mine eyes save the light of it ; 
 To this degree am I sunk, in the refulgence of thy face. 
 
 Under the pretext of tobacco, I exhale the smoke of my sighs ; 
 For I bm-n and emit smoke for evei", in the fire of thy face. 
 
 All other folks whatever occupy themselves in the world's affairs ; 
 But I am sunk in expectation of beholding thy face. 
 
 Thanks, that thou hast delivered me from obligation to others ; 
 And, head bent in adoration, I am beholden to thy face. 
 
 * In the fables and traditions of the East, it is supposed that wherever 
 there is a hidden treasure, there is a serpent, or serpents, to guard it. 
 
24 iEABD-UR-KAHMAN. 
 
 \Vhere'er I, KahmIn roam, fur the heiul's diversion ; 
 I have no other object — I am the seeker of thy face. 
 
 Xlll. 
 
 If T say anght rcgjirding separation, what shall I say 1 
 (Jf this agony, without a remedy, what shall I say 1 
 
 1 have no power to breathe in the dear one's presence : 
 Since I have no power, powerless, what shall I say 1 
 
 When I gaze ujion her, I forget myself entirely — 
 WTien I know nothing of myself, what then shall I say ? 
 
 Of the state of my own hciul, unto her I cannot speak — 
 Of that, without name or vestige, what shall I say I 
 
 Of love's myster}', that hitherto no one hath explained — 
 Of the inexplicable and indescribable, what shall I say? 
 
 I am o'erwhelm'd in tears, through gi"ief for my beloved — 
 Concerning such a flood as this, what then shall I say ? 
 
 I, who have sunk down upon the furnace of separation — 
 Of the rose-bower of conj miction, what shiUl I say] 
 
 She plundereth one of life and goods, and stealeth the heait — 
 Regai'ding such a heart-ravisher, what then shall I s;iy ? 
 
 lie calleth the crows, and driveth the nightingale from the garden- 
 Of the gardener of this world, what then shall 1 s;iy « 
 
 She is still far better than all that i can explain — 
 What then of the luved-one shall I, IJaiiman, say <* 
 
 * This ode is very jiopular us a song; Imt the singtTs are, jirububly, 
 nut aware of the dt-pth of intuiiiiig beneath. 
 
JSABD-UR-RAHMAN. 25 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The garden of existence will not bloom for ever ! 
 The market-place of life will not be in bustle always ! 
 
 Like as the river Aba Sind* bouudeth along in its course, 
 With such like exceeding precipitation is the progress of life. 
 
 Just as the lightning, that showeth itself and is no more ; 
 So swift, without doubt, is the swift course of life. 
 
 It is violent and impetuous to such a degree, 
 That no one is able to command the bridle of life. 
 
 Since its swift steed hath neither curb nor rein, 
 The brave cavalier of life must have a Ml at last. 
 
 In a single horn* it severeth the friendships of years — 
 In such wise, imfaithful is the friend of life. 
 
 I will neither leave my house, nor will I travel ; 
 
 For, without going a jovirney, I pass over the road of life. 
 
 It will, in the end, be severed by the shears of fate — 
 It will not remain for ever connected — this thi'ead of life. 
 
 He should view his own self with the bubble's eye, 
 If, in his heart, one would compute the length of life. 
 
 Rahmax ! there is no opportmiity in this world again 
 For him, over whom hath passed away the period of life. 
 
 XV. 
 
 This is the adored one — that is the rival : 
 This is the rose — that is the thoi-n. 
 
 * Aba Sind, the " fatlier of rivers," the name given by the Afghans to 
 the Indus. 
 
26 JiABD-UR-UAIlMAN. 
 
 Tliis is the rose — that is the thoni : 
 This is Mansur* — that the gallows-tree. 
 
 This is the l)cloved — that the malicious : f 
 This is the treasure — that is the suake. 
 
 This is wisdom — and that is love : 
 This is anguish — that the consoler. 
 
 This is separation — that is conjunction : 
 Tliis is autumn — that the fresh spring. 
 
 This is devotion — that is sinfulness : 
 This is refulgence — but that is fire. 
 
 This is the wise man — that is the fool : 
 This is awake — but that is jxsleep. 
 
 This is R.vnM.iN — that is the adored : 
 This is the sick — that is the physician. 
 
 XVJ. 
 
 So fast oxir friends depart inito the gi-ave, 
 As the kai'wan, + with speed, rcturneth home. 
 
 So very promptly doth death deal with us, 
 As the reaper cutteth down the ripe coni. 
 
 * Al Mansur, the name of a Siifi, who was put to death at B.'ighdad, 
 some centuries back, for making use of the words j^ ^' "I am God." 
 
 t The Arabic word here used in the original, and verj- commonly 
 made use of by jtoets, is scarcely to be translated by an equivalent word 
 in tlie Englisli language. The Spanish word duenna gives the significa- 
 tion, but the Af;xll'"nis "TP^y ^^ ^^ ^'^^^^ sexes, 
 
 J Commonly "caravan,"' a company of travellers or merchants asso- 
 ciated togetlier fur mutual defence and ju-otection, and conveyance of 
 merchandize, in tlie ]'^u>t. 
 
^ABD-UR-RAHMAN. 27 
 
 Like as the moving sand* is quickly commingled, 
 So speedily is this world together huddled. 
 
 The himian frame as rapidly decayeth, 
 As the tulips, iu the autumn, wither away. 
 
 So swiftly passeth away this sweet life. 
 
 As the rapid river bouudeth along m its com-se. 
 
 A twinkling of the eye, indeed, will not be so speedy. 
 As Rahman's hasty departure from the world. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 At times the body burnetii from heat ; sometimes, it trembleth 
 
 from the cold : 
 At others, it dieth from thirst and himger ; at others, from excess 
 
 of food. 
 
 All, all who have come into the world, are in tumult and in uproar : 
 Neither is that hungry one at peace, nor that cloyed one in tran- 
 quillity. 
 
 At times, they raise the hand to the head, and act civilly to each 
 
 other ; 
 Sometimes they stretch out the hand to the dagger and the sword. 
 
 ^\Tien the angels mixed the dust of the first Adam together. 
 They combined, along with it, all manner of pains and woe. 
 
 "What matters it, though this very hour one be beaten or be bound ? 
 His time, too, will come likewise, to strike and to pinion others. 
 
 For how long will this crazy foundation of ours continue finii 1 
 With plastering and propping it so continually I am quite worn out. 
 
 * See Reg-iruicdn, note at p. 15. 
 
28 ^ABD-UK-RAIIMAN. 
 
 'Tis possible, perhaps, that after death one may laiigh in the tomb, 
 Who may, in this Ufo, have mourned and lamented over liimself. 
 
 I perceive all are departers — there are none to be tarriers behind : 
 Travelling upon this road is necessary, alike, for young and for old. 
 
 It is the flowing ringlets of the beloved that every one seeketh after, 
 Whether it be the yolmg or old, the great or small, the rich or poor. 
 
 Supremely happy is he who hath been accepted at her threshold ; 
 But woe and misery fur him who hath been driven from it. 
 
 Like unto me, Rahm.\n, lunidrcds were her nightingales ; 
 
 But which that dark-eyed one hath chosen, God only knoweth ! 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 ^^^len the black eye-lashes become submerged in the hciu't's mois- 
 ture, 
 Then both property and effects become engulfed in the ocean uf the 
 
 heart. 
 
 Thou speakest vainly of the heart's disquiet unto the " Father of 
 
 Desire :"* 
 What know children of tlio deep, deep sorrows of the heart 1 
 
 Unto evei-y other comitcuancc than that of my own beloved, 
 I have pei-maneutly closed, idtogether, the eyes of the ho;u-t. 
 
 That the highest canopy of heaven is beneath its sliadow, 
 
 In the same degi'ee, the more supernal is the banner of the heart. 
 
 Tills sanctuary is more sacred than Abraliam's tubeniacle, 
 If one would restore the desolated sanctuary of the heart. 
 
 * Desire itself, called also the " l*;iniit of Di'sire."' 
 
^ABD-UR-RAHMAN. 29 
 
 Though others should set their feet upon tlic earth's surface, 
 I have on the empyrean itself, placed the foot of the heart. 
 
 That spot, which lieth midway 'twixt the firmament and world, 
 Is a place of seclusion — 'tis the very staircase of the heart. 
 
 From whom, then, shall I crave it, save from thee my God, 
 
 Since the world's physicians cannot prepare the salve of the heart 1 
 
 There are, indeed, very many extrinsic friends in the world ; 
 But RiHMAN nowhere findeth, a single friend of the heart. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 I am ever sitting, with heart dried up, in the moisture of my tears : 
 Love showed mito me, in my own retreat, both ocean and land. 
 
 Like as when, with my lips, I kissed the wound of thy sword, 
 I have never since, from any salve, such soothing experienced. 
 
 Majnun, that laid his head at the feet of Layhi, his beloved,* 
 Became exalted in Arabia, and in all foreign lands. 
 
 The powerful will always be triimiphant over the weak ; 
 And I am preserved from other miseiy by my grief for thee. 
 
 Like unto myself, for thee, thus in wretchedness o'erwhelmed, 
 Of the whole race of Adam there will be no other similar. 
 
 Like as a carcass, that may be fallen amongst the living. 
 In such wise am I, whilst in it, separated from the world. 
 
 From the breathings of the channers I obtain no alleviation ; 
 For this reason, indeed, that my breath is dependent on thine. 
 
 * The loves of Majnun and his mistress Layla are the subject of one 
 of the most celebrated mystic poems of the Persian poet Nizami, and 
 famous throuEfhout the East. 
 
30 ^ABD-UR-RAHMAN. 
 
 I have neither inquiry nor research to make, save after thee : 
 Thou art my object every moment, and at every step. 
 
 Shmild it he my good fortune to obtain the platters of thy dogs, 
 I woidd no more cast mine eyes, even upon Jamshed's cup.* 
 
 So completely have I gambled away my heart upon thy curls, 
 As when a little button falleth, and, in murky dai-kuess, is lost. 
 
 All ensanguined in blood, like unto red roses hang, 
 A thousand hearts in every ringlet of thy curly hair. 
 
 I, Rahman, withdi'awn from the world, was happy indeed ; 
 But looking towards thee, hath brought man's censm-e on mc. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Tlie fair face turncth like unto a smoky pot in old age : 
 The upright-statm-ed becometh like a bent stick, in old age. 
 
 Like unto the candle in the morning, or the sun in winter. 
 One tm-neth pale, and wantcth waniith, in the time of old age. 
 
 If a person j)lacc his ft>ot in one direction, he goeth in another ; 
 The whole body becometh quite a stranger t-o us, in old age. 
 
 One's limbs arc laid oiit, as if accounted among the deixd. 
 Although he is still palpably beheld alive, in old i\ge. 
 
 • Jam or Janishcd, the name of an ancient Persi;m king, concerning 
 whom there are many fables. The cup of Jamshed, cii\ledjam-i-jam, is 
 said to have been discovered, tilled with the Elixir of Imraortiility, when 
 digging for the foundations of PersepoHs, and is more famous in the 
 Ka.xt tlian even Nestor's cup among the Grei-ks. It has furnished the 
 poets with numerous allegories, and allusions to wine, the jthilosopher's 
 atone, magic, enchantment, divination, and the like. 
 
^ABD-UR-RAHMAN. 31 
 
 A defunct is much better oft', for after death he livcth again ; 
 But it is not so that one may again grow young, in old age. 
 
 If he take any thing, it disagreetli with him, like poison ; 
 For one cannot eat, nor can one di"iuk, in old age. 
 
 That is youth, in which one both hcareth and seeth something ; 
 But nothing can be heard, and nothing seen, in old age. 
 
 B.VHMAN ! verily, old age is such utter helplessness, 
 That, were it Rustam* himself, he deserveth pity, in old age. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 He who placeth any hope vipon the fabric of this world, 
 Embarketh, on a torn' of the ocean, in a paper boat. 
 
 No one hitherto hath successfidly rmi the steed of the sky f — 
 How can one practise horsemanship on the back of the wind l 
 
 Neither can the wolf be instructed in the art of humanity, 
 Nor can any reliance be placed on the forbearance of fate. 
 
 Fortmie revolveth equally with Islam and with idolatry — 
 "WTien doth the bhnd make distinction 'twijst white and black 1 
 
 With mine own eyes have I viewed the portents of destiny : 
 It createth thousands every moment, and destroyeth them too. 
 
 1 am imable to place any such trust in fate's revolutions. 
 
 As that when its time cometh, it will grant exemption to me. 
 
 No one, indeed, will have experienced in his whole lifetime. 
 Such severity as the beloved-one, hourly, WTeaketh upon me. 
 
 * The Persian Hercules. 
 
 j The steed of the sky — the firmament, the revolving heavens, fortune, 
 destiny, fate, etc. 
 
32 JUABD-UR-RAHMAN. 
 
 Shuuld I venture to place in my tiu-ban a bud of the rose. 
 From it, my evil destiny produceth a thorn therein. 
 
 If I stretch forth my hand inito j,'old, it turneth into dust : 
 If I manifest desire for dust, it treateth me with scora. 
 
 Separation from God is a great calamity, unbearable to me : 
 My distressed heart ever yeameth for society with Him. 
 
 When hath any lover accjuired such an amomit of patience, 
 That he putteth off, mitil to-moiTow, the promise of to-day ? 
 
 heart ravisher ! if thou shouldst even clothe me in fire, 
 In my sight, the gaiment will become me like gold brocade. 
 
 If, with regard to my love, any one should speak evil of me, • 
 To myself I consider, that he is uttenng my praise. 
 
 'Tis right that reproaches be heaped on the lover, tlio rule is such : 
 It is ever tlie custom of the healthy to laugh at the sick. 
 
 Honour and love are widely separated from each other — 
 How can one perpetrate a robbery in the light of day ? 
 
 Rahman, this ode reciteth in reply to that which Dawlat* wTote — 
 " Should the beloved present me continually the wine of her love !" 
 
 XXII. 
 
 If any one should accoxmt me an ascetic, an ascetic am I ; 
 If any one should consider me a noble, a noble am 1. 
 
 I desire the whole world as an oblation luito the beloved : 
 it is not that, for myself, I care ought about it. 
 
 • The name of an Afijhan jioet, a cotemporary of llahmrmV. His 
 poems are not to be met with in the present day. 
 
iEABD-UR-EAHMAN. 33 
 
 'T is hard sustaining tbe dignity of the cowl : were it not so, 
 Every moment I inchne unto the Darwesh's caUing. 
 
 I take advice from every one, and give coimsel vmto all : 
 
 I am, at once, the disciple of some, and the apostle of others. 
 
 In separatiou the thoughts of the beloved ever follow me : 
 Along with Yusuf,'* I am a companion in imprisonment. 
 
 At the time of laughing, my weeping is like unto the taper's : 
 In the world, I am totally concealed, yet in fear of my life. 
 
 But what freedom, what independence is greater than this 1 
 That I am a captive in the fetters of the locks of the beloved. 
 
 ^^liat other happiness is there more inestimable than this ? 
 That for the sake of the beloved I am ever plmiged in gi'ief. 
 
 Khushhal Khiiu and Dawlataf are but slaves of mine ; 
 For, of the Pus^to tongue, I, Rahivian, am the iEalam-gir.t 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Where the lips of the beloved ? where affliction of heart and soul ? 
 Where the nightshade's red berry? where the ruby of Badakhshan 1 
 
 Pure and free is true love from all proneness to carnality — 
 Where is the well of the stomach 1 where the dim})le of the chin 1 
 
 There is not a little difference 'twist the libertine and the recluse — 
 ^Vhere are youths and maidens 1 where are widows and orphans ? 
 
 * The patriarch Joseph. 
 t The name of Af gh an poets. 
 
 t jEalam-g'Tr — "The world-conquering-" — the name assumed by 
 Aurangzeb, Emperor of Hindustan. 
 
 D 
 
34 ^ABD-UR-RAipiAX. 
 
 They arc all fools, who barter their religion for the world — 
 Where are fifty days ? where eternity and everlasting life ? 
 
 Let ambition and desire be a sacrifice unto contentment — 
 Whore is the land of Eg}'pt ?* where the Hamlet of the Slaves H 
 
 In one villag<', the Darwesh and murderer cannot dwell — 
 \VTiere is /Eazlz Khani where is Mulla ^abd-ur-Rahman ? 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Though kings and princes have made their exit from the world, 
 It hatli nut become, in anpvise, imperfect or defective thereby. 
 
 Though thousands, cveiy moment, perish and pass away, 
 Thousands, likewise, every instant, are into it brought. 
 
 Of their exits and their entrances there is no computation : 
 They are like imto the fiithomlcss ocean that rolleth along. 
 
 At another's soitows, man doth not become affected : 
 He is alone sensitive of what hap})encth to himself 
 
 One, so illustrious as the Prophet, passed from the world away ; 
 Yet this world did not become ruined by that separation. 
 
 When such like eminent people have gone down to the dust. 
 How shall be remembered, by any one, such dogs as thou and I ? 
 
 * ^luliammndans consider the land of Ejniit the peculiar countri' of 
 presumptuous and ambitious rulers, who, like I'haraoh, laid claim to 
 divinity. 
 
 ■\ The name of a village near Kandahar, on the Tarnak river, imd, for 
 centuries jtast, in ruins. It is proverbially used in reference to a place 
 uttcrlv desoliitc and deserted. 
 
iEABD-UR-RAHMAN. 35 
 
 Shouldst thou sift, over and over, the whole world's dust, 
 Thou wilt not again discover either Dara or Shah Jahan !* 
 
 Not even a trace remaineth of their names or their records, 
 "Wlio laid claim imto glory, and sought, from posterity, fame. 
 
 Go thou, and see for thyself, if I speak falsely — 
 
 Look upon the graves of thy fother, and grandfather too ! 
 
 Behold ! what have those mouths and lips become, 
 Which, on both thine eyes, were wont to kiss thee fondly 1 
 
 They who used to hail thee with " Thy sacrifice, thy sacrifice," * 
 Let them now call out imto thee, "Thy sacrifice am I !" 
 
 I am quite amazed with the glowing words of Rahman, 
 That in the collection of his odes, fire hath not burst out. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 The chiefs and the monarchs of the world, 
 At last, abject and confounded, depart. 
 
 They are fastened to the link-rope of fate. 
 Like as captives together are chained. 
 
 Sweet existence departeth from him, 
 
 And the king hath neither power nor control. 
 
 Though he give away wealth and lands. 
 He obtaineth neither quarter nor mercy. 
 
 * Dara, the Persian name of Darius ; Shah-i-Jahan, " the Emperor 
 of the Universe," the title assumed by the fifth Mughal, sovereign of 
 Hindustan. 
 
 t Equivalent to the reply of " Thy sins be upon me" of Scripture, a 
 common mode of reply in Afghanistan and Persia. 
 
 D 2 
 
36 ^ABD-UR-RAHMAN. 
 
 He hath neither friend nor defender : 
 Both paiu and agony overcome him. 
 
 Helpless, in liis presence, will lie standing, 
 Both his ministers and his envoys too. 
 
 No remedy can be prescriV)ed for him ; 
 And doctors, nonplussed, hang theii* heads. 
 
 His dominions remain behind him ; 
 
 And from regret and sorrow his heart breakcth. 
 
 When the soul hath deserted his body, 
 His family weep, and bewail his loss. 
 
 For an hour or so, they mourn over him ; 
 Then the poor creatures grow calm again. 
 
 They then remove him for the alilution,"' 
 And ])lacc him naked on the stretcher. 
 
 Then uf his ganncnts, become covetous. 
 The washers and the bathera of the dead. 
 
 On the return home from the grave, 
 
 Tlie licirs share, and carry the effects away. 
 
 Both his friends, and his enemies, alike, 
 Tt) Ills throne and coiuitiy lay claim. 
 
 His handmaidens and concubines,- they 
 Are carried otf by the dead man's eompeeis. 
 
 Both name and vestige of him are lost. 
 As if, indeed, he had never existed. 
 
 * See Raljnian, Poem IX., semnil noti-. 
 
iEABD-UR-RAHMAN. 37 
 
 Not even a record of him remaincth ; 
 Not even his title, to future times. 
 
 The world, verily, is like a runniug stream, 
 Upou which no impression can remain. 
 
 Though one may people a thousand spots, 
 Still, all, at last, must desolate become ! 
 
 Like as the wdnd cometh and passeth by, 
 So rolleth away the course of time ! 
 
 This exposition was long and lengthy, 
 
 But Eahman hath condensed and abridged it. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 My black eyes have turned wliite, from the weeping of separation ; 
 And again, have become coloured, from the blood of the heart. 
 
 I was wont to say, " Even yet, I will go and visit my friends ;" 
 For I did not know that the time of their departure was fixed. 
 
 Some, like unto the moth, cast themselves into the fire : 
 Some, alive, like the nightingale, the glowing rose upon. 
 
 The abjectness of death hath come before the dead ; 
 
 And the living become woe-begone, though yet in existence. 
 
 The soldiers of destiny have so put forth their hands to plunder, 
 That a thousand Khasraus and Shirins* have been trampled to dust. 
 
 * Khasrau, Iving of Persia (cotemporary with Muhammad), having 
 been driven from his kingdom by his uncle, took refuge with the Greek 
 Emperor Maurice, by whose assistance he defeated the usurper, and 
 recovered his crown. Wliilst at Maurice's court, Khasrau married his 
 daughter Irene, who, under the name of Shirin, signifying ' sweet,' is 
 highly celebrated in the East, on account of her singular beauty ; and 
 then' loves are the subject of the celebrated Persian poem by Nizami. 
 
38 ^ABD-UR-IIAHMAN. 
 
 They who, in their gaiety, placed their feet upon the heavens — 
 Such tenderly nuurishcd ones have now siuik into the grave. 
 
 They who were wont to repose upon cnniue and velvets, 
 "Without bed and without pillow now in the cold eailh lie. 
 
 AVliy, then, should not the heart of R.mMAN be soiTowful, 
 When such numbers of his friends have been severed from him 1 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Whomsoever one's own affections have made abject, contemptible, 
 
 account not ; 
 For love is sympathy's clouds : as mere clouds of dust, account them 
 
 not. 
 
 At times, the curls become dai'k spikenards ; at othcre, amber and 
 
 musk : 
 Although they are like unto snakes, as such, account them not. 
 
 One of its phases is destruction, whilst another is reconstruction : 
 Indeed, love, rachcally, is fire ; but as such, account it not. 
 
 Many awake, are fast asleep, like the statue, with eyes open : 
 Though it regard thee with staring eyes, awidic, account it not. 
 
 The object to be conveyed by the faces of the fair, is a certain 
 
 emotion : 
 That which produceth not such impression, a face, account it not. 
 
 The thorn, which is along with tlie rose, is among roses reckoned : 
 \\li;it matter though 'tis termed a thorn I as such, acci)unt it not. 
 
 Tlic wise are those, who confess themselves wanting in wisdom — 
 Tlioy who account tlioniselves sage, as such, iicci'unt them not. 
 
iEABD-UR- RAHMAN. 39 
 
 He, indeed, is sinful, nnto whom his own sins are not evident : 
 Whoever considereth liimself evil, as such, account him not. 
 
 He, who hath confessed the power of his beloved one's dark locks, 
 Will be distm-bed for ever ; then tranquil, account him not. 
 
 Let him, who seeketh perfection, practise the lowliness of Rahman : 
 That is the expedient : any other plan, successful, account it not. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Would to heaven that I were the dust and ashes at thy door ! 
 Would that thy foot were, for ever, placed uj)on my head ! 
 
 By all means, let thee and me meet face to face ; 
 Then let my breast be the target for thine arrows ! 
 
 Let my whole body, like antimony, be ground to powder ;* 
 For then, at least, one glance of thy dark eyes will be mine. 
 
 Were the society of the fair dependent on gold or silver, 
 I had acquired it, by my sallowaiess, and my silvery tears. 
 
 "V^Tierefore, indeed, had reproaches been uttered against me, 
 If any one had been aware of thy heart-ravishing ways ? 
 
 Should I tell them of the dignity thy love hath brought me. 
 The angels, all, woidd cry, " that we were human too !" 
 
 If I were the heart-ravisher, and thou, like me, the heart-ravished. 
 The spectacle of my condition would then be manifest to thee. 
 
 * Black antimony, gTound to powder, is commonly used in the East, as 
 a coUyrium for the eyes. 
 
40 ^ABD-UR-RATIMAN. 
 
 It will not be equal unto the bloody torrent from mine eyes, 
 Though one's face, all over, might sharp sword-gashes bear, 
 
 that T were the nightingale, or the zephjT of the mora, 
 That my path might lie amongst thy fragrant bowers ! 
 
 'Midst the agonies endured for thee, to R.vhman, the iiliysician 
 
 saith — 
 "Tliou wouldst be better were thy state even worse than it is." 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 If this, thy heart's affection, be bestowed upon a rival. 
 For thy sake, this rival shall be my friend also. 
 
 He who may be fascinated with one f:\ir countenance, 
 
 From that one, a thousand other faces will be acceptable to him.* 
 
 \Miosoever may have entered into the service of kings, 
 Must, necessarily, be imdor obligation unto the janitor. 
 
 Against thy malicious guardians, how shall I complain 1 
 It is usual for the thorns to be associated with the rose. 
 
 Until a hundred thoras shall have pierced his breast, 
 How shall the nightingale luito the rose ever gain access ? 
 
 He will spread the prayer-cai-jiet in the cupbearer's path — 
 Every Sufi who may be, towards his countenance, prepossessed. 
 
 * "There are such wild inconsistencies in the thoughts of a man in 
 love, that I have often reflected there can be no reason for allowing liim 
 more liberty than others possessed witli phrenzy, but that his distemper 
 lias no malevolence in it to any mortal. The devotion to his mistress 
 kindles in his mind a general tenderness, which exerts itself towards 
 every object as well as his fair one," — Steele, Spectator, No. 330. 
 
^ABD-UIl-EAHMAN. 41 
 
 He Avill lose his senses, entirely, through the phrenzy of love, 
 Thongh he may be us wise, indeed, as Iflutun* himself. 
 
 He will, in no wise, cast censures upon Rahman, 
 Whoever may be cognizant of thy beauty and grace. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Though they may have been a hundred times by each other's side, 
 
 and in each other's arms ; 
 Still, all the loving-ones of this world will be separated from each 
 
 other. 
 
 They, who, at present, are dwelling together in the same abode ; 
 At the last, will all have separate dwelling places. 
 
 These fragrant flow^ers, whose proper place is in the turban, 
 All, all of them will fade away, and be trodden under foot. 
 
 These fair-faced ones, with bright countenances like the smi's — 
 The black hair, like a forest, will overspread their cheeks. 
 
 This delicious sherbet, which is the society of our friends. 
 Will, in separation, and in absence, to deadly poison tm-n. 
 
 Through disjunction from a friend, I myself have witnessed. 
 The wisest of the age become, wholly, of reason bereft. 
 
 He setteth not his foot, for dread, on the ground of society. 
 Who is, already, cognizant of the dread slough of separation. 
 
 In what manner shall one devise a fit remedy for this. 
 Unto which, neither human wisdom, nor conjecture reach? 
 
 * Plato. 
 
42 iEABD-UR-RAHMAN. 
 
 To such a degree hath anguish rusted Rahman's heart ; 
 But the goblet of pure wine will its furbisher become. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 The face of the beloved, the suu, and the moon, are all thi-ee one : 
 Her stature, the cypress, and the pine, are all tlu-ee one. 
 
 I have not the least need, either of honey, or of sugar ; 
 
 For, the lips of the beloved, honey, and sugar, are all three one. 
 
 When I am reclining upon my couch, without her by my side. 
 Fire, thorns, and this couch of mine, are all three one. 
 
 ^V^len I cast mine eyes toward her dwelling's door and walls, 
 A garden, a pai*ten-e of flowers, and they, are all tlu-ee one. 
 
 When I am soiled with any dust of the alley she dwelleth in, 
 This dust, and musk, aud amber, are all throe one. 
 
 God ! make no one acquainted with absence from liis love ; 
 For invasion, massacre, and such absence, are all three one ! 
 
 The veiy moment that man biddeth adieu unto the world, 
 Dust, and silver, and gold, unto him, are all three one. 
 
 Should the nu)uk, in reality, foUow a life of austerity, 
 The sovereign, the chief, and the monk, are all tlnvo one. 
 
 It is not right that one should roam in foreign lands ; 
 Therein, he who can see, the blind, and dumb, are all throe one. 
 
 That town, in which there may be neither sweetheart nor friend. 
 That town, tiio octan, and the desert, are all three one. 
 
^ABD-UR-RAHMAN. 43 
 
 At the shops of the sightless dealers in jewels, 
 
 The kaiu'I,* the ruby, find the pearl, arc all three one. 
 
 Let not these saintly monitors hold my love in scorn ; 
 
 For the true lover, the saint, and the father, are all three one. 
 
 Tlu'ough the despotic severity of tyi-aunical rulers, 
 The grave, and fire, and Pes'hom\+ are all three one. 
 
 What matter, though he may praise himself unto Rahman 1 
 Still, the fool, the ox, and the ass, are all three one. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Thy fair face, and thy musky mole, are associated together. 
 Or j\Iahmud and Ayaz are sitting together, bosom friends.^ 
 
 "Wliat matter, though thy countenance is hidden by thy curls ? 
 Tlie water of immortality itself is, in total darkness, concealed. 
 
 From thy ciu'ls, thy ruby lips, and thy face, are produced 
 The night, the glow of simset, and the dawn of day. 
 
 Is it the teeth, in thy sweet mouth, that shine so lustrously. 
 Or are there glittering dewdrops in the bud of the rose 1 
 
 'Tis not that my heart, alone, is pierced by thy glances : 
 The knife and the flesh, of old, are hostile to each other. 
 
 Without floods of tears, the dark eye deigneth not to look on one : 
 The opening of the narcissus dependeth on the rivulet's humidity. 
 
 Peace, without trouble and affliction, no one hath acquired ; 
 But thy cruelty, and thy constancy, are blessings mito me. 
 
 * Cyprsea moneta. t Peshawar, sometimes written as above. 
 
 X Malimud, Sultan of Ghaziil, who was much attached to his servant Ayaz. 
 
44 ^ABD-UR-RAHMAN. 
 
 Through the good fortune attendant on the meed of thy beauty, 
 Throui'hout the world ix-soundeth the fume of Il.vn.MAN's rhvmes. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 If there be any essential duty in this world, verily 't is that of 
 
 religion ; 
 And for the followers of this avocation, there is due meed of praise. 
 
 Unto whose lot have fallen the gifts of godliness and piety, 
 The shadow of felicity and happiness ever foUoweth after them. 
 
 Contentment hath so filled their palates with savoiu-, 
 That, in their mouths, the diy crust is like honey imto. 
 
 Without elephants and camels, they wield the sceptre of roytdty, 
 Though a snudl worn-out ])iece of mat is their only carpet 
 
 A\'hou tliey, in their necessities, raise their hands in supplication, 
 The very angels of heaven say. Amen ! to their requests. 
 
 They, who, in this life, accept indigence and privations, 
 Their advantage and good in tliat are infallible indeed. 
 
 The lowlmess and humility of the meek ai-e, in themselves, dignity : 
 Their hearts are clean, though their ragged garaients be soiled. 
 
 Tlie water of the higher ground floweth ever unto the lower — 
 The Almighty hath raised to perfection, the humble, and the meek. 
 
 The heads of the stubborn and scornful reach the heavens now ; 
 15ut, after a few short days, their place is in the dust ! 
 
 They, who follow the dictates of presumption and aiTogance, 
 Deserve not mercy — they are abominalile and accureed. 
 
JEABD-UR-RAHMAN. 45 
 
 "WTiat, though their human forms may be termed men ? 
 Men they are not, in reality — they are chikh'en of the deviL 
 
 Though Rahman possesseth none of this world's pelf, 
 
 Thank Heaven ! neither presumptuous, nor self-conceited is he. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 There is a different scar branded upon every one's breast, 
 "Wliether he be the beggar, or the sovereign of the land.* 
 
 There is no obtaining satiety from this fountain of the world ; 
 And its thirsty-ones are, severally, in dissension and hi strife. 
 
 A. httle peace is obtained, only after much pain and trouble — 
 A mere straw of this world, without it, is unlawful and unmeet. 
 
 This life's joys are not attainable, without bitterness and woe — 
 From the miser's house, ever so little alms, is a misfortune. 
 
 "Why then may not tranquillity be prohibited unto them, 
 "Who have entered within the caravansary of this world 1 
 
 As to the state of Majnun, why should any one inquire 1 
 The whole world, house by house, is Majnun and Lay la too !t 
 
 Love hath breathed iipou the entire universe a spell, so potent. 
 That the lover, though keen-sighted, is to all things blind. 
 
 The Almighty hath accorded unto every one a different lot ; 
 And every man's own portion is, separately, determined. 
 
 * " There is a skeleton in every house." 
 t See note, page 29. 
 
46 ^ABD-UR-RAHMAN. 
 
 Giving and taking — ^l)uying and selling — all are in others' hands : 
 There is, I perceive, no opening here, either for thee or for me. 
 
 All matters, if in accordance with the will of the master. 
 Though unlawfid towards the bondsman, are legal and right. 
 
 Willing or unwilling — whether it be one's wish, or whether it be 
 
 not — 
 The fidfilment of one's destiny, agreeable, or hatefid, is inevitable. 
 
 Life and faith, it behoveth to intrust, entirely, unto Him, 
 Whose decrees have gone out upon eveiy human being. 
 
 Into the hands of whomsoever the nder hath delegated authority, 
 The whole world buweth unto his wishes and his views. 
 
 KAn.M.\N ! if the Most High should not be one's companion. 
 Though armies may be with him, he stiD is all alone ! 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 That fi-icud, who is ftilse and faithless, is no friend at all ! 
 The affair, which hath not stability, is no matter at all ! 
 
 Though laying down one's head is difficidt, for thee and for me ; 
 Yet 't is an easy matter in love, and difficult by no means. 
 
 Care and solicitude awaken a man from his shunbcrs ; 
 And he who hath no anxiety, though awake, is fast ;\sleep. 
 
 Ti) the lover, if there is aught in life, 't is the society of his beloved- 
 The life of separation cannot be reckoned as existence. 
 
 It incrcaseth and growcth less, in the twinkling of the eye — 
 Reliance on the revolutions of fortune is no reliance whatever. 
 
iEABD-UR-RAHMAN. 4 7 
 
 If one be tlie flitlier of a himdred sons, what shall he do with them ? 
 The ignorant, foohsh son, is not the son of his father. 
 
 Unto their lovers, the beloved ones ever manifest their caprices ; 
 But the beloved of Rvhman causeth him no disquietude. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 In the name of that Deity of mine, this is my meed of praise — 
 Him, of whose many appellations, one, "The Most Glorious" is. 
 
 Those things, which, unto all others, are insuperable. 
 
 The whole of these matters are easy, and feasible unto Him. 
 
 He is the sovereign over all the rulers of the earth : 
 Over the head of every monarch. He is also the King. 
 
 Is any one able to place a sun in the firmament 1 
 
 Yet He, in the heavens, hath elevated this glorious orb. 
 
 Can any one spread out a veil over the disc of the sun 1 
 But, see ! He hath entirely concealed it, in the veil of clouds. 
 
 "WTio is there capable of producing a moon, to light the night ? 
 He hath created many moons, to illumine the nocturnal gloom. 
 
 Can any one pour down a single rain-drop from the sky 1 
 Yet He hath rained, upon us, the genial showers of spring. 
 
 "Wlio is there equal to give vitality, even to a mosquito 1 
 Yet He hath given life to the whole creation of the earth. 
 
 Hath any one the ability to give the red tinge to stone 1 
 But He hath coloured it with the Arghowan's* rich hue. 
 
 * The name of a tree, whose fruit and flowers are of a beautiful red 
 colour — the Cercis Siliguastrum, of botanists, probably. 
 
48 iEAnD-UR-IlAHMAN. 
 
 Can any one cause a single fltjwer to gi'ow from out the earth ? 
 Yet Ho hatli made to bloom gardens of sweetest flowers. 
 
 Hath any cue the power to produce water from fire ? 
 
 He, from the fire of summer, hath produced the winter rains. 
 
 Hath any one the ability to impart religion unto man 1 
 
 Yet He, upon all His servants, hath foitli and religion liestowcd. 
 
 Can any one ascend from earth to Heaven ? 
 
 Yet this potent power. He hath, imto Jesus Christ, assigned. 
 
 "Who is there that can hold couveree with the Almighty 1 
 Yet, to this degree, He hath the patriarch Moses exalted. 
 
 "Who is mighty enough to place a saddle on the steed of the wind ? 
 Whilst He hath, higli in air, the throne of Sulmifiu set up.* 
 
 What man, with snowy beard, can, unto the Last Day, live ] 
 Yet, upon Khizr,t this great fiivour hath He conferz'ed. 
 
 Hath any one power to produce gems from out the rain-di*ops 1 
 Whilst He, from out the niin-ilro])s, hath j)roduced {icarls. 
 
 "Who is there can supply food unto all creatures? 
 
 Yet He, unto all created things, is the giver of daily bread. 
 
 * According to the Muhammadan belief, Solomon succeeded his father 
 David wlien only twelve years old ; at which age the Almighty ]>l:»ced 
 under his command all mankind, the beasts of the earth and the fowls of 
 the air, the elements, and the genii. The birds were his constant attend- 
 ants, screening him from the inclemencies of the weather, whilst his 
 magnificent throne was borne bj' the winds whithersoever he wished 
 to go. 
 
 t The name of a iirophet, who, according to Oriental tradition, wns 
 Waui; or Minister, and ( ieneral of Kaykobad, an ancient King of Persia. 
 They say that he discovered and drank of the fountain of life or immor- 
 tality, and that, in consequence, he will not die until the sounding of the 
 last truinpet, at the .Tudgmrnt Day. • 
 
^ABD-UR-RAHMAN. 49 
 
 That which He can perform, none else can accomplish : 
 
 All the most powerful are impotent, before His omnipotence. 
 
 He hath fomided the house of stone in the midst of the waters, 
 In which He hath given, unto fire, secm'ity and protection.* 
 
 Tlie earth hath bowed down its head in His adoration ; 
 And the firmament is bent over in the worship of Him. 
 
 Every tree, and every shrub, stand ready to bend before Him : 
 Every herb and blade of gi'ass are a tongue to utter his praises. 
 
 Eveiy fish in the deep praiseth and blesseth His name : 
 Every bird, in the meadows and in the fields, magnifieth Him. 
 
 All things are occupied in offering thanksgiving unto Him, 
 \\Tiether mankind, or the genii, or the beasts of the field. 
 
 The created things themselves have not held Him in such estimation, 
 As the great love and regard they are held in by Him. 
 
 No one hath chscovered the extent of His omniscience — 
 His knowledge and perception such a boundless ocean is. 
 
 Neither doth any one bear likeness or similitude unto Him, 
 Nor doth He bear likeness or similitude unto any one. 
 
 With Him, there is neither deficiency, detriment, nor decline : 
 He is, wholly, without defect, without decline, or deterioration. 
 
 He hath neither simile, nor similitude, nor hath He place : 
 He is without semblance, without comparison, without abode. 
 
 From all form, stmcture, or configuration. He is exempt ; 
 Yet all figure, lineament, and formation, from Him proceed. 
 
 * As fire can be produced by striking stones together, the Mubamma- 
 dans suppose that fire is inherent in stone, and that water protects it. 
 
 E 
 
50 ^ABD-UR-RAHMAX. 
 
 No one beholdctli Him with his eyes, nor can He be looked upon ; 
 And yet, ineffable and inscrutable. He is manifest to all. 
 
 If any one shoiUd say. He cannot be seen, verily. He cannot : 
 And should he so say, He is, in truth, apparent unto all. 
 
 WitliDut d(niV)t and without distrust, consider Him immaculate 
 In all tilings soever, of which people are hard of belief. 
 
 No one hath lauded Him equal unto His just deserts ; 
 Neither hath any one sufficiently resoimded His praise. 
 
 Out of the thousands of His excellencies and His perfections, 
 Deem not, that one, by Rahman, hath been adequately expressed. 
 
MIRZA KHAN, ANSAEI. 
 
 MlRZA Khan, AnsarI, was a descendant, probably agrandson, of 
 Pir Ros'han. the founder of the RoslianTrui sect, which made a 
 great noise among the Afghans, about the year 1542-3 of our Era. 
 He appears to have commenced wiiting poetry in the year 
 A. H. 1040; and these effusions were afterwards brought to- 
 gether in the form of a Dlwan or Collection of Odes, bearing his 
 name. Some parties contend that his real name was Fat'h Khan, 
 and that he was of the Yusufzl tribe of the Afghans, and that the 
 term Mirza is an assumed name, usually taken by Oriental poets. 
 Mirza, however, is a Persian word, signifying a prince or a noble- 
 man, and also a secretary or wi'iter, and would never be assumed 
 by an Afghan, it being a distinctive appellation applied to persons 
 of Persian descent, by the Afghans. This statement, however, is 
 also fully disproved, from the fact, that several old copies of his 
 poems, which I have examined or have in my possession, end in 
 these words : " Here ends the Diwan of Mirza Khan, Ausarl." 
 
 Kasim ^Eall, Afridi, an Af^an poet of Hindustan, in one of his 
 odes, states, that Mirza Khan was of the family of Bayazid, or 
 Bazid, Ansari, who assumed the name of Pir Roglhan, or Saint of 
 Light, as already mentioned. Bazld himself (of whom it will be 
 necessary to give a brief account, as Mirza' s subsequent misfor- 
 tunes were chiefly owing to his being a descendant of that im- 
 postor) was, altogether, a remarkable man ; and the Ansari tribe, 
 to which he belonged, is an offshoot of an Arab tribe of Madinah, 
 mentioned in the Kur'an, which received the prophet Muhammad 
 
 E 2 
 
52 MiRZA KHAN, ANSARl. 
 
 after his flight from Makkah ; and hence the name Ansari, from the 
 Arabic word antdr, signifying aiders, or assistants. People of this 
 tribe are to be found, even now, scattered over Afghanistan, the 
 Panjab, and some parts of India. 
 
 Bazld's rehgion, which he instituted in the year a.d. 1542-3, 
 spread rapidly amongst the Bar PusTitun. or Easteni Afghans, 
 till, at length, he was able to assemble armies, and oppose the 
 Mughal government. He held the same tenets as the Sufis (of 
 whose mysticisms some accoimt has been given in the Introductory 
 Remarks), but haA^ng been a disciple, for some time, of the noto- 
 rious Mulla SulTman — known in the East as Jalandharl Suliman, 
 from the town of Jalandhar, in the Panjab, where he dwelt — Bazid 
 became initiated in the tenets of the Jogis, a sect among the 
 Hindus, and became a fost convert to the creed of the Metempsy- 
 chosis, or Pathagorean system of the transmigration of souls. On 
 tl>ese doctrines, however, he engrafted some of his o\m, the most 
 remarkable of which was, that the most complete manifestations 
 of the Divinity were made in the persons of holy men.* The 
 great opponent of Bazld was AWiund Darwezah, the gi'catest and 
 most venerated of all the saints of Afghrmistan, who, in derision of 
 the title of Pir Ros'han, or Apostle of Light, which Biizld had 
 himself assmned, confen*ed on liim the name of Pir Tiii-ik, or 
 Apostle of Darkness, by which name he is now chiefly kno^vn. 
 
 Mlrzfi was a great traveller, and was well known from Herat to 
 Agra, throughout the Afghan country, and also in India ; for he 
 liimself had numerous disciples in the mountainous parts of 
 Afghanistan — from Suwat and Bajaw^T, north of Pcs'hawar. as f\ir 
 as Kandahar and Herat. He dwelt for a long period in the 
 Uajput atjitc of Kajwarra or Rajputauah, in Hindustan, the Raja of 
 whith country, although a Hindu, ever treated him with great 
 
 • F.i.rnixsToxE: Cauluil. 
 
MiRZA KHAN, AN SARI. 53 
 
 veneration and liberality. The Mu gh al Emperor, Aurangzcb, also, 
 in whose reign Mirza flourished, allowed him a regular stipend. 
 The Emperor, however, was a great bigot, and, as is well known, 
 was entirely in the hands of the priesthood ; and, consequently, on 
 more than one occasion, at the instigation of some of them more 
 ignorant and bigoted than others, Mirza was summoned by the 
 monarch, to answer accusations of heresy and blasphemy, preferred 
 against him at their instigation. The Emperor, with, all his 
 bigotry, appears, however, to have had some scruples of conscience ; 
 and, generally, had some plausible excuse to save Mirza from their 
 clutches, and himself from a bad name. The only reply the 
 MuUas, or priests, could draw from the monarch, who is famous 
 for personally administering justice, was, that they should enter 
 into disputation with the accused, and if anything contrary to the 
 orthodox laws of Muhammad could be drawn from him, he would 
 then consent to punish Mirza, but not otherwise. Notwithstanding 
 Mirza's enemies were thirsting for his blood, still they could not 
 succeed in drawing him into the snare they had spread for him ; 
 and the poet, very prudently, retired from the scene, fearing lest, at 
 some time or other, they might be more successful in their machi- 
 nations, and bring him to destruction ; for, according to the well 
 known Oriental proverb — " Kings and riders have neither eyes nor 
 ears ; and between truth and falsehood they are incapable of dis- 
 cerning ; for the words of a few designing men being sufficient to 
 make the innocent guilty, the unfortunates are plimged into the 
 calamity of destruction." Mirza, on this account, generally con- 
 fined himself, wdien in India, to the territories of the independent 
 or trilnitaiy Hindu, princes, by whom he was honoiu^ed and 
 respected. 
 
 The poems of Mirza contain many Arabic and Persian words, 
 which most Oriental poets freely use ; but his Pus'hto is very 
 ancient, particularly in words used amongst the hill tribes of 
 
54 MiRZA KHAN, ASSARl. 
 
 Eastern Afghanistan, in hi.s day, and wliich are not generally 
 understood by the people of the present tmie, together with some 
 words piu'ely Sanskrit ; but these latter usually occrn* in the last 
 words of a line, when at a loss for a rhyme, in which very great 
 licence is taken and allowed, by poets, in all Oriental countries, 
 without such words being common to the language, or used in 
 couvei-sation by the people. Some of the philosophers of the pre- 
 sent day, in their bUnd rage for comparative philology — the hobby 
 they ride for the time being — based merely on their own super- 
 ficially theoretical, and not practical knowledge of Oriental lan- 
 guages and subjects — would probably consider this use of some pm-e 
 Sanskrit words as conclusive and imdeniable evidence to prove 
 the Pus|hto or Afghan language, of the Sanski-it family of tongues. 
 They seem to forget that aU those parts of Central Asia, now 
 called Afghanistan, from Kabul eastward, were, even in the days 
 of Alexander, peopled l)y a Hindu race, remnants of whom, existing 
 even at the present day, lived as Helots among the Greeks, to 
 their viu-ious Mutiammadan conquerors, of whom the Afghans are the 
 most I'ccent, the Afghan tribes of the PesTiawar district, and its 
 northern vicinity more particuliu'ly, having airived in those parts 
 as recently as the beginning of the sixteenth centiuy. They, as 
 will also be seen from the languages of many other conquering 
 tribes, adopted, for convenience sake, some few words of the people 
 they conquered. However, the Sanskrit in ilirza's poems may be 
 accounted for, from the fact of his long residence amongst Hmdu 
 people. 
 
 The poetrj' of Mlrza is deeply tiuged with the mysticisms of the 
 Sufis, and, to some extent, with the religious tenets of his ancestor 
 rir Kos'haii. H is effusions are, certainly, more difficult than that 
 of any other poet, from the fact of their being (as I think will be 
 allowed) more sublime, and grander in conception. 
 
 It is sjiid that Mirza, in the latter vears of his life, married and 
 
MIRZA KHAN, ANSARl. 55 
 
 settled in the Tl-rah district, lying immediately to the south of the 
 famous Khaibai" Pass, and ignored the Ros^anirui faith, which iu 
 his more youthful days he had adopted, and manifested great 
 repentance for every thing he had wi'itten or said, contrary to the 
 sham', or orthodox canons of the Muhammadan creed. On this 
 account, he soon became great with the ecclesiastics of Pes^hawar — 
 a city, in those days, as famous as BoHiara itself for theological 
 learning — and thenceforth was held in high estimation by them. 
 His descendants, on this account, are still greatly respected by the 
 Muhammadans of those parts, whether A fgh ans or others. 
 
 Nothing is known, for certain, regarding the death of Mirza ; for 
 he passed a great portion of his life in Hindustan, and must have 
 ended his days in that country.* His descendants still dwell in 
 the Tl-rah district, amongst the clan of Ml-an Khel, and have the 
 repvite of being quiet and well behaved. There is generally one of 
 the family who follows the life of an ascetic ; and is allowed, by the 
 simple people, to have the power of working miracles. 
 
 * A person named Mirza, son of Jsur-ud-Dln, one of the sons of Pir 
 Roshan, lived in Shah Jahan's reign, and was killed at the battle of 
 Dawlatabad. 
 
THE POEMS 
 
 MiRZA KHAN, ANSAUI. 
 
 O Tiioc, in heart ignorant concerning thine own sonl ! 
 man, seek thou the nature of it, from the reality itself! 
 
 From the refulgence of religion, acquire thou comprehension : 
 Bear away, unto the desert, this darkness of infidelity ! 
 
 Sin abandon ; and set oxit towards devotion and piety ! 
 Tliis is the road, without anxiety, and from danger free. 
 
 This secret praise is the lamp of truth and orthodoxy ; 
 Therefore, from the Inmiaculate's hand, the hghted lamp take. 
 
 Sliould perception's light become enkindled in thine heart, 
 Thou wilt, altogether, acquire life's happiness and felicity. 
 
 The })enetratiug, and the enlightened, are spectatoi*s of both worlds ; 
 But the bat flieth about in the dark, without seeing. 
 
 WHiat do I, blind that I am, know of the state of the sublime'? 
 How wilt thou, from the deaf, ask the iuqxjrt of sound 1 
 
 'rinm wilt edinpreheud, forthwith, tlie lanLiuage of all things, 
 Shouldst thou, sagacious one ! make tliine heart's car to hear. 
 
 I''rr not, regarding the amount of attributes and properties ; 
 And unto the source of the essence, bear the essence itself. 
 
MiEZA KHAN, ANSARI. 57 
 
 About their own materiality, the enlightened are in torment ; 
 But there can be no dread of mortality from corruption itself 
 
 Every attainer* who hath passed beyond this nature frail, 
 Assiu-edly discovereth the signification of immortality. 
 
 He wandereth about in the boiuidlessness of infinity : 
 
 He anived even unto his home, that he might unity behold. 
 
 That fruit, which on its own branch acquired ripeness, 
 
 This brief claim of its o^\ti perfection, made to the parent tree — 
 
 " Notwithstanding there is not much excess in thy greatness ; 
 Still, within this body of mine, do I see thee, entii'ely, tree ! 
 
 From the first, thy root germinated from me, and flourished : 
 The development of thy pxu-pose devolved, wholly, on me." 
 
 Answer, to this effect, on the part of the tree, proceeded — 
 " Colom- and flavoui-, fiiiit ! whence didst thou acquu-e ? 
 
 From one fruit, naught but a single tree is produced ; 
 And the finiit of that tree is renewed, year by year." 
 
 The reply fi-om the tree, however, is here soiind and wise, 
 Though the observation of its fiiiit is, of attention, worthy. 
 
 From that, which possesseth no kernel, no com gi'oweth : 
 It is not advisable that any one should sow husked seed. 
 
 The reputation of the sei'V'ant lieth with his master ; 
 And without the sen^aut, the master's digTiity is not. 
 
 Invoke, then, within thine heart, the sayings of MIrza, 
 If the page of thy mind be imblotted, and imstained. 
 
 * One who has attained a certain stage in the Sufi mvsticisms. 
 
58 MiRZA KlfAN, AXSARI. 
 
 II. 
 
 \Vhen, w-ith the mind, I examined the shoiUder-bone of prediction,* 
 I saw that, within unity's area, the comniimity of plenitude dwcUeth. 
 
 In wliat manner shall I describe the infiniteness of the Omniscient, 
 When all that's inscrutable, He hath drawn, like a veil, over His 
 foce] 
 
 I Ijcliold, floating upon the surface of the waters, the ship of the 
 
 earth ;t 
 And on all sides, I perceive, cones of stone have protruded therefrom. 
 
 For how long shall the heavenly bodies, in the firmament, revolve I 
 By what art, prufuund, hath the Great Sage suspended them therein 1 
 
 The conception of the intellect of the wise is unable to penetrate 
 Unto where tlie hand of, "Let it be," and "It was,";}: hath reached. 
 
 These unadorned heavens became arrayed with embeUishments, 
 Wliich He, with the diamonds of omnipotence, carved out. 
 
 The lamp of the sun and the moon became enkindled therein — 
 He assented not that, unrevealcd, His own skill should remain. 
 
 From the clouds. He caused tlie geniid rain to descend on earth ; 
 And herbs and plants of eveiy kind he disseminated thereon. 
 
 * J) icalaey, Tlie shoulder-bone of an animal, or more particularly that 
 of a sheep, used by the Afj^hans in divination. 
 
 f "The sliip of the earth " here referred to is the earth itself, and the 
 " cones of stone" are the mountains protrudinjr from its surface. Aecord- 
 iiig to the ideas of Muhammadans, the earth is j)laced upon the waters^ 
 in the midst of which it floats. 
 
 I ^^^ ^hunffi-i/nfifui, ^' Be\ then it is," a phrase attributed to the 
 Creator at the creation of the world. 
 
MiRZA KHAN, ANSARl. 59 
 
 On its face, the phenomena of spring and autumn, so admirable, 
 
 arose ; 
 And the gradations of heat and cold were diffused throughout. 
 
 From the whole achromatism of colom*, that manifesteth itself, 
 The face of nature is with every tint and hue emblazoned. 
 
 On all sides, where'er I cast mine eyes, of every tinge and dye, 
 The chequered carpet of the Great Chamberlain is spread out. 
 
 The countless creatures that, in all directions, meet the eye. 
 Are the army of this great chess-board, in order arranged. 
 
 Here, the destiny of every one, whatever he may be, is fulfilled — 
 From the game's commencement, the knights are mounted, the foot- 
 men on foot. 
 
 And mankind themselves, originally, are of one origin and race ; 
 Yet some rule empires, whilst others beg from door to door ! 
 
 Though the beasts of the field exist, from inconvenience free. 
 The whole bm-den of "Do" and "Refrain" is laid upon mankind. 
 
 Unto eveiy man his own private interests are the most agreeable ; 
 But the decrees of the Great Judge are separately meted luito all. 
 
 The mercy of the All-mercifid is equally extended to all men ; 
 Though some have chosen to deny Him, whilst others have obeyed. 
 
 For the use of mankind were all living creatiu-es produced ; 
 And man himself created, to acquire knowledge of the truth. 
 
 He, who in this life, acquireth not a perception of the natm-e divine. 
 Hath naiight of hum^anity in him ; and 't is just to term him a 
 beast. 
 
 Whosoever giveth ear imto the inordinate promptings of carnality, 
 Though, in outward appearance, he liveth, yet his soid is annihilated. 
 
60 MiRZA KHAN, ANSARI. 
 
 Wherefore doth he give himself airs about this short existence ; 
 Siuce, without an aim, he is standing like a sign-post in the path ] 
 
 Like unto the hare, with eyes wide open, he for ever slecpeth : 
 In what manner, as though entiunced, shall the sleep- overcome 
 awake 1 
 
 He hath abandoned the path at the counsel of the Accursed : 
 His mind is misled by hypocrisy's manifold deceits. 
 
 The poor, ignorant creature is accounted a demon, and beast ut' 
 
 prey: 
 Even worse stdl — he is amongst decayed carcasses numbered. 
 
 His dark, confined heart is as a tomb, for his soul is dead : 
 
 His decked-out body, a grave, on which the mould is beaten down. 
 
 His distressed and distracted mind is the emblem of the worm : 
 His sepulclu'C is intact : it is his so id that is devom'cd. 
 
 He hath no peace nor truiKiiiillity : nought else save toniicnt : 
 Eveiy moment ovenvhelnicd in misery : tb'iven away iw one unclean. 
 
 He possesseth not strength sufficient, the human fonn to support — 
 He took the deposit on his head, without calculating its weight.* 
 
 Like unto the mide, it is expelled from its own kindred i-acc. 
 That, which being one by nature, hath become, witli another, mixed. 
 
 Tyrant and fool that he was, he shoidd have acted in this way — 
 He shoidd have cried with piercuig cries, and liave dashed his liead.f 
 
 Such a ponderous load, as neither Heaven nor earth coidd bear. 
 By what strength could the weak, helpless, ignorant, sustaui 1 
 
 * The comlitioiis which Adam accepted from tlie Creator regjucliiig 
 the duties for whicli he was created. See Mirzii, Poem VI., second note, 
 ■j" llefemng to Adam. 
 
MlRZA KHAN, ANSARI. 61 
 
 It bchovcth to call for aid, with all speed, unto the perfect, 
 Tliat they may consign the burden into tlie hands of the Master. 
 
 Unto every wise man, who hath become released from the debt, 
 Therefrom, the hereditary gift of knowledge divine hath fallen. 
 
 The gravity and importance of such knowdedge the saints know ; 
 Since they have sought it in the mind, and unto the world's limits. 
 
 His laws and His edicts go out upon every person and thing : 
 He hath built up a wall from this crude and uutempered dust. 
 
 He made the inanimate to be counted among the living, 
 
 When He, the Immaculate, with His own breath, breathed on them. 
 
 He will live for ever and ever, and death shall affect him not, 
 Through whom the Eternal hath di-a-^ai the thread of vitality. 
 
 What blessed one became piu-ified from ungodliness and scepticism 1 
 He, whom the Lord of Holiness hath, with sanctity's water, cleansed. 
 
 Upon the face of the waters, his lamp eflFulgent bm-neth ; 
 And, like straws, infidelity and mistrust consume thereon. 
 
 At his entreaty, from the stars, was ill-presage wholly removed ; 
 And, tlu'o' his good offices, no hour is accounted portentous. 
 
 MIrza ! of the praises due unto the perfections of the saints, 
 Who, commensurate with their infinity, hath a tittle rendered 1 
 
 III 
 
 ^ is the vanity* of thine own doubt and mistrust ; 
 And, thro' scepticism, thou sustainest injury exceeding. 
 
 * f ^j ^^ ^^^ ^^^^ letter of »^j^i khudl, vanity, pride, etc. 
 
G2 MiRZA KHAN, ANSARl. 
 
 Fall not into error, conceminj^ tliy outward appearance ; 
 Since, after spring passeth away, tlio autumn cometli. 
 
 Set out in pursuit of the great object of solicitude. 
 Whilst thou thy conunaud upon the bridle retainest. 
 
 Tiie Omnipotent is, by no means, distant from thee ; 
 For He is nearer unto thee, than even thine own self. 
 
 Whether on the earth, or whether in the heavens, 
 The Omniscient there also is present in the midst. 
 
 He became, in unity and individuality, unique : 
 In immensity, and in infinitude. He is diffused. 
 
 From His divinity. He departed and advanced towards it ; 
 And now, throughout tlie whole luiivei-sc, He moveth. 
 
 Tlie limits of His boundless infinity cannot be discovered ; 
 And in mankind is His abode, and His place of sojouni. 
 
 He himself inflicteth, and He himself performcth ; 
 And man He liath made, the motive and the plea. 
 
 From every saint tliat hath commenced his mission, 
 Some sign, or some indication becometh manifest. 
 
 The scepticism of MiRZ.\ hath vanished, and is no more ; 
 But whatever is by him s])okcn, Mi'an Ros'han* sj)eaketh. 
 
 * ^li'an or I'lr Koshrm, the founder of the Roshrmlau doctrine, and 
 ancestor of Mlrza. See page 61. 
 
MiRZA KHAN, ANSARl, 63 
 
 IV. 
 
 ly, staiideth for the pilgrim* — iu this path let him proceed : 
 Let him, iu all sincerity, become a seeker after Him. 
 
 From the sleep of negligence and remissness awake ! 
 Follow now in pursuit of thy well-wisher and friend ! 
 
 Tho' the object thou seekest be obscure and invisible, 
 Ride lightly, and without baggage, in following it. 
 
 Its acquirement is attended with much trouble and toil : 
 Detemiine thou, therefore, a dauntless spirit to show. 
 
 Since the lamp of love and affection is become lighted. 
 Like the moth, to-day, become thou the sacrifice thereon. 
 
 He hath bestowed upon thee the cup of vitality ; 
 Then let the largess be upon the cupbearer scattered !t 
 
 Seek not to discover the feults and failings of others ; 
 But become the mirror of thine own acts and ways. 
 
 The desired object of thy attainment is near unto thee : 
 Then, in sincerity and piety, towards it draw near ! 
 
 Thou art, from the begimiing, one and indivisible : 
 Become now, therefore, the nan-ator of those hidden things ! 
 
 God is one — without partner, and without associate : 
 Forbear thou, then, from all, contrary thereto. 
 
 In this, MiRZA ! the choice lieth with thee, entirely ; 
 Therefore, in the qualities of the tranquil, be thou stedfast ! 
 
 * u" stands for eiJLj of which it is the first letter, signifying a pilgTim, 
 a traveller, and, metaphorically, a devotee. 
 
 t A custom of scattering money, by way of largess, amongst the 
 peo^ile on festive occasions. 
 
64 MiRZA KHAN, ANSARl. 
 
 ^j> is significant of faith's straight and narrow path ;* 
 And, after much tciTor and danger, its goal is attained. 
 
 The artifices and deceits of the Devil are manifold in nimiber ; 
 Bnt far, far worse than those, is that enemy the flesh. 
 
 Follow thou not, in pursuit of the lusts of the world : 
 The state is evil, and their promptings are pernicious. 
 
 Tlie Devil spread out for man, the snare of posterity ; 
 And wealth, and various pleasures, are the baits thereon. 
 
 Distinction, and fame, one of its ramparts became, 
 "Wliilst another of its attractions were silver and gold. 
 
 He layeth out separate snares quietly, and with caution ; 
 But the whole are like unto embroidery \ipon the caqict. 
 
 He will neither be prosperous nor happy, in this world, 
 Who giveth ear imto the temptations of the Accursed. 
 
 Though a whole region should fall beneath his sway ; 
 Still, that man's heart will long, another to acquire. 
 
 They who give way unto the promptings of the flesh, 
 For them, especially, there is torment cxcniciating. 
 
 But they who have passed safely this dread ordeal, 
 
 For them are the perfect gifts of the patient and the meek. 
 
 Unto Miuz.I, His beneficence and His kindness are vouchsafed ; 
 For Ho alone, is the All-merciful, and the Accepter of penitence. 
 
 » (» i» .. U cj^- — the (liroct ami narrow patli — flip way of religion and 
 orthodoxv. 
 
MiRZA KHAN, ANSARI. 65 
 
 VI. 
 
 c signifieth the great evil* of mistrust, and scepticism, 
 Tliroxigh which, all the world is, in bewilderment phmged. 
 
 Tliat mind cannot rest assiu'ed, or be at peace, 
 
 Which is constantly distracted in pursuit of mithingness. 
 
 It cannot partake of the advantages of unity ; 
 For it is in the infiniteness of infinity dispersed. 
 
 The elaboration of its counsels and reflections is great ; 
 But 't is like inito a cloud, that containeth no rain. 
 
 Verily, he will not be able to attain unto perfection, 
 Whose looks are directed unto detriment and defect. 
 
 Tlie ignorant wreaketh tyi'anny, merely upon himself, 
 "Who is the sponsor of the onerous deposit of faith, f 
 
 * The first letter of i_--e, sin, evil, fault, infirmity, etc. 
 
 ■f By faith is understood here, entire obedience to the will of God, on 
 the observance or neglect of which, no less than eternal hapj^iness, or 
 misery depends ; and so difficult in the performance, that when God pro- 
 posed it to the vaster parts of creation, on the conditions annexed, they 
 declined to undertake as a duty, that, the failing- wherein must be attended 
 with such terrible consequences. God made the proposal to the heavens, 
 earth, and mountains, which, at their first creation, were endued with 
 reason ; and made known to them that he had made a law, and created 
 Paradise for the recompense of such as were obedient to it, and Hell for 
 the punishment of the disobedient ; to which they answered, they were 
 content to be obliged to perform the services for which they were created, 
 but would not undertake to fulfil the divine law on these conditions, and 
 therefore desired neither reward nor punishment. "When Adam was created, 
 the same olfer was made to him, and he accepted it, notwithstanding' 
 man's weaknesses, and the infirmities of his nature. Jellill-ud-Dln, al 
 BeidawT's Commentary on the Kur'an. 
 
66 MiRZA KHAN, ANSAKI. 
 
 A worshipper oi himself, sunk in egotism and vanity, 
 
 He is, Uke the firet Adam, in amazement and perplexity lost. 
 
 The soul contained in the human fuitn, is like unto Joseph ; 
 And the body's nature and disposition are its prison-house. 
 
 ^Mien it hath become, from this thraldom, liberated, 
 It is then in safety, and Heaven is its dwelling-place. 
 
 With transports filled, and mounted upon the steed of love, 
 Enraptured, it is come forth unto the Choukan* of its desire. 
 
 Draw near, Miuzl, and lift up thine eyes ! 
 See ! this is the ball, and this is the arena too ! 
 
 VTI. 
 
 c — All tliat may be contrary to nature change :t 
 Make the soul kinir, and wisdom its minister. 
 
 Give not car unto the flesh, for it is ignorant ; 
 And with wisdr.ni, understanding regard. 
 
 The deceits of the Devil are without number ; 
 Therefore, consider as a fetter each of his spells. 
 
 There are five robbers :J: in thine own house, 
 Each of which, in separate places, chain up. 
 
 ♦ Choukiin or Chougiin is the Persian luirae of a game resembling 
 tennis or cricket, but ])liiyp(l on liorseback by man^- Asiatic tribes. It 
 also piirnifies the crooked bat used therein. 
 
 t P^the first letter of^->, contrary, different, etc. 
 
 I The five robbers or enemies here referred to, as in the hou.se of the 
 botly, are the five senses — hearing, seeinir, toucli, taste, and smell. 
 
 .iil' 
 
MiRZA KHAN, ANSARl. 67 
 
 Deprive them of all evil appetites and desires ; 
 Aud, in thy heart, give place to reliance on God. 
 
 Draw thon near unto truthfulness and piety ; 
 And from thee, diive all deceit and guile. 
 
 I have spoken unto thee without disgiiise ; 
 Therefore, guide all thy actions accordingly. 
 
 Shouldst thou seek to be with these gifts endowed, 
 Then go, seek the society of thy spiritual guide. 
 
 Guard well the heart from the Evil One ; 
 And upon it, register the remembrance of God. 
 
 The mundane things of this world are a dream : 
 Now give thou the interpretation of the truth. 
 
 Subtile and profound are the words of Mirza : 
 In their elucidation, do thou thy perception show ! 
 
 YIIT. 
 
 The loved-one is not concealed from thee, 
 thou obstruction, romid about thy soul ! 
 
 Thou thyself hast become thine own veil, 
 Standing olidurate, in scepticism's path. 
 
 Thou becamest visible — the beloved, invisible ; 
 But like unto thee, a perfect counterpart. 
 
 Spotless and pure, on every side and surface — 
 A simple lineament, but substance without. 
 
 Shouldst thou behold her, thou art blest : 
 
 How long, then, O forlorn ! wilt thou gaze upon thyself? 
 
 F 2 
 
68 MiRZA KUAN, ANSAKl. 
 
 When doth gi-ain shoot up iiiul flom-ish 
 
 In arid soil ? tliou, of hard earth, a clod ! 
 
 When a clan pitchcth its tents upon a plain, 
 Forthwith the j^rass thereon entirely disap[)eareth. 
 
 The black bee* buzzeth lightly around the lotus ; 
 WTiilst thou, beetle ! hast siuik under thy load. 
 
 The flame, full soon, consiuneth the straw ; 
 
 But thou bunicst, clumsy block ! with many groans. 
 
 From love alone, is the heart's existence : 
 
 What were the callow brood, without the pairnt bird ? 
 
 MTrz.\ I the compact of affection and love. 
 The moth, with the lamp, hath adjusted. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The anguish of love, alas ! is incalculable. 
 It is, alas ! without antidote, without cure. 
 
 Without its thorns, the rose will never be ; 
 And friendship, alas ! is with absence coupled. 
 
 The beloved, happy, and in her own hcai-t, at peace, 
 Is, alas ! miconcerned — a ravishor of hearts ! 
 
 He will undergo the Jiangs and agonies i)f love, 
 "NMio may be, alas ! reckless and regardless of life. 
 
 I live but in the remembrance of my dear one : 
 Alas ! indeed, I cannot exist, without my life. 
 
 * A bee enamoured of the lotu.'*. 
 
 ^V 
 
illKZA KIIAN, ANSARI. 69 
 
 The only regret of the ascetic MTrza, alas ! is this — 
 That his passion's object is without indication. 
 
 X. 
 
 How amazing is the sublimity of the mind of the adorer ! 
 
 Uuto whose throne, there was no access, even for the giant -^ud.* 
 
 This stage of it is more contracted than Sarat's narrow bridge :t 
 How, then, did the army of love accomplish its ascent 1 
 
 His jjassion became like unto a vast and boundless ocean, 
 Which, by its first swell, o'erwhelmed him in the billows. 
 
 The sword of unity, from between, He removed altogether ;| 
 And upon infinitude. He conferred the name of spouse. 
 
 The boundless ocean, MIrza ! hath encompassed all things ; 
 But the Ganges merely floweth to Shamsabad and Kanouj. 
 
 * JEud is the Arabian name of O^, the son of Anak, concerning whose 
 enormous stature, his escaping the Flood, and the manner of his being- 
 slain by Moses, the Muhammadaus relate numerous fables. See ^S'umbers^ 
 xxi. 34, 35. 
 
 f The bridge over the infernal fire, and over which those who are to be 
 admitted into Paradise, as well as those who are destined to Hell-fire, 
 must pass. It is described as finer than the thread of a famished spider 
 and sharper than the edge of a sword. 
 
 I " In remotest time, the sword was emblematic of chastity. When, 
 the Emperor Maximilian man-ied Maria of Burgundy by proxy, he 
 enjoins the knight, who is to be his representative, to lay him down in 
 the bridal bed, to which he is to lead the princess, in full armour, and to 
 ])Iace a drawn sword between himself and her." — Chambers' Jouk::?al, 
 Vol. XI. From this it would appear to have been also practised by the 
 nations of the East. 
 
70 MiKZA KHAN, ANSARl. 
 
 \I. 
 
 If it be tliy wish to pass throuirh life, from hatred and malice free, 
 From the lonpnu's of covetousncss deliver this spotless breast. 
 
 Thro' heedlessness of heart, like what wilderness ait thou gi'owu ? 
 Account the Devil's temptations a monster, not a gnat ! 
 
 The expecting heart is one only — its cares and anxieties many : 
 The term, too, of thy existence, long or short, is nothingness. 
 
 The spiritual guest is an inestimable one : cherish him carefully — 
 Broken rice possesseth not the fitness for the tables of kings. 
 
 Covetousness tottereth like one with ophthalmia stricken; 
 
 But by ])erfect reliance upon the Almighty, cure thou the disease. 
 
 Change sinful arrogance for meekness and humility ; 
 
 And the sword of thy vanity and pride return imto its sheath. 
 
 Become pliant, and bending, like unto the tender twig ; 
 Not of thine own accord, like a hard, dry log of wood. 
 
 The five fingei-s once had an astonishing dispute together. 
 
 At which time the little finger acknowledged its own littleness. 
 
 There is dignity, in tlic very insignificance of form ; 
 Hence fitness for the ring went luito the little finger. 
 
 Outwardly, become the spectator of the heiu-t's internal things, 
 O tliiiu, from truth's source, great — by scepticism, contemptible ! 
 
 O MTh/.a ! bi'hold tliou the infinite greatness of unity ; 
 Since such delicious hi>nov. is from tlie bee produced. 
 
MlHZA KHAN, ANSARI. 71 
 
 XII. 
 
 Tliou art the vitality of my soul, Thou, than soiil itself, more 
 
 precious to me ! 
 TIkhi art the whole uuiverse's existence, Thou, than the world, 
 
 more jjrccious to me ! 
 
 Thy comprehension hath embraced all things ; yet all things have 
 
 not comprehended Tliee : 
 Thou hast possessed Thyself of the seat of faith, Thou, than faith, 
 
 more precious to me ! 
 
 Whence shall there be aiight of bliss in Heaven, if that sight of 
 
 Tliee, be not for me ? 
 My heart is carried away in yearnings for Thee, Thou, than 
 
 Heaven, more precious to me ! 
 
 Wherefore should I rehearse tlie world's praises 1 unto whom repeat 
 
 them, when Thou art not 1 
 Thou, nightingale ! gavest me hue and fragrance, Thou, than the 
 
 parterre, more precious to me ! 
 
 The bower is the hearts of the worshippers, and the heavenly 
 
 Paradise of the recluse ; 
 And the beholding of Thee, The Inscrutable, beyond all indication, 
 
 precious to me ! 
 
 Thou art without similitude ; infinite ; indubitable ; without am- 
 biguity : 
 
 And hence, the mine of all things, Thou, than eveiy mine, more 
 precious to me ! 
 
 Thou art, moreover, the vitality of the universe ; the breath of 
 
 every living creatiu'e : 
 Thou art the inspiration of this Adam, Thou, than inspiration, 
 
 more precious to me ! 
 
72 MlRZA KHAN, ANSARI. 
 
 Thou art the repository of vitality, that hast pervaded all and every 
 
 living thinrj : 
 At times invisible, at othei-s visible ; but whether hidden or 
 
 apparent, precious to me ! 
 
 Thou art a voice, after many kinds ; encompassing all tilings ; 
 
 without indication : 
 Thou art without lineament in every respect ; but, in cveiy way, 
 
 precious to me ! 
 
 Tliou art wholly inscrutable in all things : the invisible in the 
 manifest : 
 
 Thou art the signification in description, Thou, beyond descrip- 
 tion, precious to me ! 
 
 Concerning the soul, what shall I say 1 verily, it is an attribute of 
 
 unity itself : 
 MIrza, wuthout the soul cannot exist, Thou, than soul even, more 
 
 precious to me ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Shouldst thou once become an inmate of the house of God's love, 
 Thou wilt, forthwith, become a stranger unto the world, entirely. 
 
 From out of entity, nonentity will come upon thee ; 
 
 Thou, by this inexistent, in all existent, shalt miique become. 
 
 This perfect knowledge will bo with thee, entirely ; 
 lint thou wilt bi' niiul in the sight of the weak-minded. 
 
 The whole arruws of culunuiy will bo })oiu-ed upon thee ; 
 And thus, thou wilt become the butt of great and small. 
 
MiRZA KHAN, ANSARl. 73 
 
 From tlie world's unworthy, thou shalt the heart's concerns with- 
 draw : 
 Thoii wilt be like a hidden treasiu-e in a wilderness. 
 
 Shouldst thou change this, thy well-being, for misfortime. 
 Thou wilt become the whole prosperity of all adversity. 
 
 Shouldst thou cast this heart of thine on tliat consuming flame. 
 Thou wilt, the self-sacrificing moth become thereby. 
 
 A pvu'e, unadulterated wine shall fill thy mouth ; 
 From the effect of which, thou shalt be ever inebriated. 
 
 Thou wilt not hold, in any consideration, either world, 
 Shouldst thou groAV rich from the treasury of contentment. 
 
 Thus thou wilt shower mercy's genial rain upon the world, 
 And become the seed, through the universe disseminated. 
 
 The all-knowing, concerning thy condition shall speak ; 
 And by truth, thou wilt become the paralile of the truthful. 
 
 On speaking, thou wilt give I'eply worthy of being spoken ; 
 And become, of every harp and every melody, the harmony. 
 
 The eloquent, who shall enter on the praises of the Almighty, 
 Shall, like unto MIrza, be remembered throughout all time. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 He, who placeth reliance on the lying and deceitful, 
 Maketh firebrands out of nothing, by such utter folly. 
 
 It is the senselessness of fools, in opposition to wisdom. 
 That, in the heat of summei', raiseth a tower of snow. 
 
74 MiRZA KHAN, ANSARl. 
 
 His prosperity is trouble — he gi-oweth down-hearted thereby : 
 And his fresh adversity addeth twofold misery his soitows unto. 
 
 Every man, who seekcth fidelity from the perfidious world, 
 Taketh it, in lease, for much bitterness, and many woes. 
 
 Success and disaster — good and evil — are with the act coupled ; 
 But fools suppose such things influenced by the stars. 
 
 I am amazed, beyond measure, at such like people, 
 ^\^lo place any reliance xipon the bubble's permanency. 
 
 The ocean's waves will, one day, dash against each other ; 
 And will, full speedily, the gannent of the bubble rend. 
 
 AVhen the pious and devout view this rimning stream. 
 
 They perceive, in its flowing, the scene of their own existence. 
 
 The wise enter upon the search of the object of their desires : 
 The beasts of the field, about food and sleep, themselves concern. 
 
 "When the adorers awake from the slumber of remissness. 
 They take due heed of the fleeting of every breath. 
 
 That the traveller may, from his sweet repose awaken, 
 The warning bell of departm-e, tolleth at the dawn of day.* 
 
 The delight of the Darwcsh is in fervour, and in study : 
 The ])leasure of Chieftains is in their banners and ib-ums. 
 
 That country cannot be exempt from confusion and ruin, 
 Whose army indidgeth in grossest tyranny and rapacity. 
 
 If a friend slioiild lend ear unto the secret of the stranger, 
 Friends will, themselves, ruin their own atlaii*s, thereby. 
 
 * It is usuiil to ring a bi-U al the dawn of day, to arouse the people of 
 a caravan to prepare to set out. 
 
MiRZA KHAN, ANSARl. 75 
 
 When the mandate of the All-powerfiil shall reach him, 
 From whence shall MIrza's streng-th a remedy obtain 1 
 
 XV. 
 
 How shall I define what thing I am ? 
 
 Wholly existent, and non-existent, thro' Him, I am. 
 
 Whatever becometh nanght out of entity. 
 The signification of that nothingness am I, 
 
 Sometimes a mote in the disc of the sun ; 
 At others, a ripple on the watei-'s surface. 
 
 Now I fly about on the wind of association : 
 Now I am a bird of the incorporeal world. 
 
 By the name of ice I also style myself : 
 Congealed in the winter season am I. 
 
 I have enveloped myself in the four elements : 
 I am the clouds on the face of the sky. 
 
 From unity I have come into infinity : 
 Indeed, nothing existeth, that I am not. 
 
 My vitality is, from life's source itself; 
 And I am the speech, every mouth within. 
 
 I am the hearing-sense within every ear ; 
 And also the sight of every eye am I 
 
 I am the potentiahty in eveiy thing : 
 I am the perception every one within. 
 
 My will and inclination are with all ; 
 With mine own acts, also, satisfied am I. 
 
76 MlRZA KIIAN, ANSARI. 
 
 Unto the sinful and vicious, I am evil ; 
 But unto tlie good beneficent am I. 
 
 In the lot of the devoted, I am the honey : 
 In the soul of the impious, the sting. 
 
 I am with every one, and in all things. 
 Without imperfection — immaculate I am. 
 
 'T is by the mouth of MIrza that I speak : 
 An enlightened heart, without simihtude, I am. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 The tresses of this impassioned loved-one, are all dishevelled : 
 They are spread all around her face, like a shadow unto. 
 
 She hath prepared every sepai-ate hair as a snai-e — 
 Each one laid for the captiu-e of wounded hearts. 
 
 Within those hearts how can there be aught of tranquillity, 
 "Wlien she hath held them in check, by the reins of love I 
 
 Since from siich an abode of their own they are exiled, 
 
 "Where is the land of their sojourn, in which peace may be found ? 
 
 They, who have their reason lost, thro' such a chai-mer's love, 
 Have now renounced both the rosaiy and the Brahmauical cord.* 
 
 All things have happened through their own aftection ; 
 And those without it, ai-e useless, in all respects. 
 
 Tliey have no place, cither in the closet or the wine-shop : 
 Neither in the Muslim's regard, nor the infidel's sympathy. 
 
 * See note at page 18. 
 
MiEZA KHAN, AKSARI. 77 
 
 With regard to such hke eyes, what caution can I use, 
 When their glances are prepared for piercing me 1 
 
 Her lovely person she hath transformed to a sandal tree ;* 
 And those tresses, like unto snakes, are around it fallen. 
 
 He, who noiu'isheth the desire of such a sight as this. 
 On him, are the whole miseries of the universe heaped. 
 
 The hearts of lovers ever kindle, at the loved-one's glance ; 
 For 't is a flame ; and her eyes are like firebrands unto. 
 
 To-day she hath again lighted the lamp of her beaiity ; 
 
 And her adorers' hearts, like the moth, are oblations thereon. 
 
 The names, nightingale and wooer, are one and the same ; 
 And conscious hearts, in her praise, are melodious songsters, t 
 
 Her eyes are lotuses, and the pupils, they are black bees ;:}: 
 And their gaze, like the gazelle's, is free and unrestrained. 
 
 Her eyebrows are bows, and her eyelashes, the aiTows ; 
 And to launch upon her lover, she hath raised them. 
 
 The pure and sincere, in both worlds, enjoy liberty : 
 
 'T is a tower, whence to gain a good sight of the beloved. 
 
 Than this supreme felicity, what greater can there be, 
 Wlien, every moment, they expect the adored to behold 1 
 
 This infinity, on the water-wheel § of imity she placed ; 
 And each water-pot, in its owni turn, cometh and departeth. 
 
 * The sandal-wood tree is said to be the favourite haunt of black ser- 
 pents. 
 
 ■f The musikilr is a bird, said to have numerous holes in its beak, from 
 which as many melodious sounds issue. 
 
 J A species of bee, enamoured of the lotus. 
 
 § The Persian wheel is a contrivance for drawing water for irrigation, 
 etc., round the rim of which a string* of earthen pots revolves. 
 
/ 8 MiRZA KHAN, ANSARl. 
 
 She hath endowed every one with her own understanding ; 
 And every one's perception is, in proportion, according. 
 
 MTrza ! behold thou those h\nguid, sleepy eyes, 
 
 That, for the love of the adored, beam with phi-enzy ever ! 
 
 XVIT. 
 
 What inqiiii-y makcst thou concci-uing the lover's condition 1 
 No one hath hazarded a conjecture of the interminable road ! 
 
 Wherefore had I been afflicted with miseiy such as this, 
 
 Had I guarded the heart from hearing the sight's promptings 1 
 
 How can there be any peace or tranquillity for them, 
 
 Wliose hearts, the ardent glances of the beloved have abducted ? 
 
 Love, she hath made tlie chain of a distracted breast ; 
 
 And, by the power of her glance, draweth the bond unto her. 
 
 A wondrous state of affection hath come over them — 
 Without seeing, they are disturbed, and in pursuit tired out. 
 
 Without any will of their own, they search for liberty : 
 With such a death impending, the dead yearn after life. 
 
 When the ripe fruit falleth to the earth, in its perfection. 
 The seed, with gladness, boweth its head to the ground. 
 
 Tliis bub])lc, even now formed by the water, is by it again broken ; 
 But what is carried away by the flood, floateth, its surface, upon. 
 
 They of little sense, are at then- good fortune perplexed ; 
 And this wind, like unto chaff, carrieth them before it. 
 
 One, here and there, comprehendcth the reality's purj)ort — 
 Tlie lightly equipped tj-avelletli, easily, along the narrow path. 
 
MiRZA KHAN, ANSARI. 79 
 
 Cast, MTrza, thine eyes upon the burnished mirror ! 
 Thei'e is no particle of iron-dross in the steel thereof. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Upon them, that journey on the road of love, 
 New assaults, incessantly, are made. 
 
 How can there be any peace in those hearts, 
 That have beheld the splendovir of the beloved 1 
 
 Though, at first, she showed her face in its splendour, 
 A part of her mantle is now drawn o'er it again. 
 
 She hath made each of those eyelashes an aiTow ; 
 And her eyebrows are the ambush with bended bow. 
 
 The pilgrims, she hath ripened hj separation's heat ; 
 And now her preparations are for the reaping of them. 
 
 Care and anxiety are the motives of existence ; 
 But what is life unto them, that before death die ? 
 
 Since from sweet existence, they have, their hearts withdrawn. 
 The world is a barleycorn in the sight of their resolve. 
 
 The truly beloved is, by no means, distant from thee : 
 Thine own insensate scepticism is the abyss in thy front. 
 
 To that godly one, who entered the transient abode. 
 The whole universe is God, and he foUoweth Him. 
 
 It behoveth to acquire love from both the eyes, 
 
 That, ajiparently separate from each other, are but one sight. 
 
 Since thou wanderest not far from thy abode. 
 
 Surely thy heart, MIrza ! is pledged unto thy beloved. 
 
80 mTrza khan, ansa Hi. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 AMien that rose, out of nothingness, a form assumed, 
 The violet fell down, in adoration, at its feet. 
 
 Thou shalt drink from the cup of the perfect-one. 
 
 If to the melody of flute and harp, thy intellect respond. 
 
 ^lake thine heart the pleasant meadow of Abraham ! 
 
 And become thou, as the scorching fire of Nimrud therein ! * 
 
 Behold the fidelity and smcerity of the world ! 
 
 See how it deserted the tribes of Thamud and ^-Ead ! f 
 
 Like as the rose bloometh, so it fadeth away ; 
 As its short life, so is mine also computed. 
 
 * The commentators on the Kur'iin relate, that by Nimrud's (or 
 Nimrod's) order, a large space was enclosed at Kutha, and filled with a 
 vast quantity of wood, which being set on fire, burned so fiercely that 
 no one dared to venture near it. Then they boimd Abraham, and 
 putting him into an engine (which some suppoise to have been the 
 Devil's invention) shot him into the midst of the fire, from which he was 
 preserved by the angel Gabriel, who was sent to his assistance ; the fire 
 burning only the cords with which he was bound. 'J'hey add, that the 
 fire having miraculout^ly lost its heat, in respect to Abraham, became an 
 odoriferous air, and that the pile changed to a pleasant meadow ; though 
 it raged so furiously otherwise, that, according to some writers, about 
 two thousand of the idolaters were consumed bj* it.— Sale's Kur'an, 
 note to page '269. 
 
 ■j- " And unto the tribe of Thamud ice sent their brother Salih. He 
 said, Oh my people, worship God : ye have no God besides him. Xow 
 hath a manifest proof come unto you from your Lord. * * » Those 
 who were elated with pride replied, Verily, we believe not in that wherein 
 ye believe. And they cut oif the feet of the camel, and insolently trans- 
 gressed the command of their Lord, and s: id. Oh Sahh, cause that to 
 come upon us which thou hast threatened us with, if thou art one of those 
 who have been sent by (iod. Whereupon a terrible noise from Heaven 
 assailed them ; and in the morning they were found in their dwellings 
 prostrate on their breasts, and dead." — Ai, Kur'an. 
 
MIRZA KHA.V, ANSAllI. ' 81 
 
 Where is the rose, and where, too, is the thorn 1 
 For all things soever there is a purpose fixed. 
 
 Let the idea of a partner with God perish : 
 The Indivisible is mie only, and Omnipresent. 
 
 He hath entered into the emporium of infinity : 
 He is the attestor, and He is the attested become. 
 
 The adored, from His countenance hath raised the veil ; 
 And the fortune of MIrza become propitious and august. 
 
 XX. 
 
 How long wilt thou wander, covetous one ! in the world's pm'suit 1 
 This very avarice, in itself, is an impediment in thy design ! 
 
 For far fiercer than fire, is the flame of covetousness : 
 As much more as its food may be, so much is its voracity. 
 
 New cares and anxieties about it, eveiy moment increase : 
 It hath taken all zest and pleasure from its bondsmen. 
 
 It coquets and toys, separately, with eveiy one : 
 
 To the whole creation it is the seller, and they its buyers are. 
 
 Neither did Shaddad, in his arrogance, enter his paradise,* 
 Nor did Karunf derive any profit from its pm'suit. 
 
 * Shaddad and Shaddld, the two sons of ^Ead, who reig-ned shortly 
 after the death of their father, and extended their jxjwer over the greater 
 part of the world ; but the latter dying, his brother became sole niouarch • 
 who having heard of the celestial paradise, made a garden in imitation 
 thereof, in the deserts of Aden, and called it Irem, after the name of 
 his great-grandfather. When it was finished, he set out, with a great 
 attendance, to take a view of it ; but when they were come within a 
 day's journey of the place they were aU destroyed by a terrible noise 
 from heaven. Sale's Kur'aw, page 488, and note. 
 
 t Karun, the son of Yeshar (or izhar), the uncle of Moses, and con- 
 
 G 
 
82 MiRZA KUAN, ANSARl. 
 
 It concealed religion from the childreu of profanity ; 
 And the straight-path, mere rites and ceremonies termed.* 
 
 It hath spread out a great net in this imiversal road ; 
 And no wise man, save the contented, escapeth from it. 
 
 The pious and devout, thro' contentment, peace of mind acqiiirc, 
 ^\licn unto the Consoler, they their distressed hearts turn. 
 
 From head to foot, the devout shall become ilhimined, 
 
 "^Mien they, thro' their hearts' courage, to the Creator draw nigh. 
 
 He, who hath died unto the world, obtaineth all things — 
 This is the great axiom of the Sower of bygone times. 
 
 The advantages he will acquire, will exceed all computation. 
 
 Who, in his necessities, becometh the acquirer of the Giver of Good. 
 
 Both states of being he vieweth, upon every respiration : 
 In truth, he is absorbed into the Shining Bright. 
 
 On the foot of the spirit, he ever soai-eth upon them, 
 
 However sublime the highest heaven, or the empyrean boinidless. 
 
 His ice-like scepticism becometh thawed, by imity's sun : 
 
 Ho neither speaketh, nor actcth, save with the Creator's assent. 
 
 The felicity of the wise is after this manner recounted — 
 That its signification relateth unto the reahty itself. 
 
 sequently the same with Korah of the Scriptures. Up surpassed every 
 one in opulence, so much so, that the riches of KaiTm have liecome a 
 proverb. God directed Moses to punish him ; and the earth havinof 
 opened under him, he was swallowed up, aloiiir witli his palace, his 
 riches, and liis confederates. 
 
 * That is to say, that the sacred book of the Lawj;iver Muhammad 
 ha.s been called ii mere collec^tion of rites and ceremonies. 
 
MiRZA KHAN, ANSARI. 83 
 
 If adoration unto the Almighty is a divine command, 
 Bow thine head, unto the good and perfect too. 
 
 How long wilt thou have occasion for MIrza, as the medium ? 
 Distinguish thou thyself, O auditor, the speaker's voice ! 
 
 XXI. 
 
 I continually call to mind this sweet and charming friend, 
 Through this exalted name of whom, I acquire the heart's good. 
 
 How then can I be patient, severed from such a dear one. 
 When I perceive no sign of resignation in my heart ? 
 
 Through this anxiety about her, I am ever miserable, 
 
 As to what remedy I shall devise ; of whom, inquiry make. 
 
 In its eagerness for a look, it hath wholly left its seclusion : 
 With what chains shall I restrain this incomparable heart 1 
 
 Except I make a snare of the ringlets of the faces of the fair, 
 And place for the bait, their musky moles therein. 
 
 I will put forth the whole wisdom of the enlightened, 
 If I may, this wayward heart, by any means, entrap. 
 
 Verily, it is become so utterly scattered to the winds, 
 That I find not the least vestige of it, in any direction. 
 
 It hath abandoned the universe, in search of the beloved : 
 How then shall I quit the world, in the pm'suit of it 1 
 
 No tidings thereof can be obtained, in any quarter : 
 I sit not down, abstaining, nor do I follow, in pursuit. 
 
 The body's vitality is the heart ; and the heart's, the soiil ; 
 Then, without heart, and without soul, how shall I exist '? 
 
 G 2 
 
84 MiRZA luiAX, ansae!. 
 
 Of life, not even a dyiiiir breatli rcmftiucth unto mc : 
 Frantic and l)e.si(le niy.sclf thereat, I heat ruy liands and feet. 
 
 Still, this mj death, is far better for me, than life itself, 
 Since, my soul I have abandoned, for the loved-one's love. 
 
 Regardinj; the putting off of mortality, Mirza thus testifieth — 
 "NMicn from this being, I cease to be, I shall entity become. 
 
iEABD-UL-HAMID. 
 
 ^abd-ul-HamTd, the author of the following poems, was born 
 at ]\Iashu Khel. a small village belonging to the Kudrlzl clan, or 
 branch, of the Afghan tribe of Mohmand, one of the jDurely Afghan 
 tribes at present dwelling in the Peshawar district. Hence, 
 Hamid, like Rahman, was a Mohmand, but of a different clan. 
 The exact year of his birth I have been unable to discover, but it 
 was certainly about the middle of the last half of the seventeenth 
 century. He was brought up to the priesthood, and is said to have 
 been endowed with a considerable amount of learning, which he 
 acquired at Pes^hawar ; and students from all parts of the sur- 
 rounding disti'icts sought his instniction. 
 
 He is the cjmical poet of the Afghans — the Shaykh Saa^di of the 
 Pus^to language — and the beauty of his compositions is fully 
 acknowledged, even amongst a nation so rich in poets as the 
 Persians, by whom he is styled "Hamldthe Hair-splitter." His 
 poetry, though generally of a moral tendency, and breathing con- 
 tempt of the world and its vanities, is still tinged with Sufi 
 doctrines, as all Muhammadan poetry, in whatever language 
 written, more or less is. He was the author of three works — a 
 poem entitled " Nairang-i-^ishk," or "Love's Fascination ;" "Shah 
 Gada," or " The King and the Beggar ;" and a Collection of Odes, 
 entitled "Drn'-o-Marjan," or "Pearls and Corals," from which the 
 following translations have been selected. 
 
 The year of the poet's decease is, like that of his birth, somewhat 
 uncertain; but the peoi)le of his native village account his death 
 
86 ^EABD-UL-HAMlD. 
 
 to have taken place about the year a.i>. 1732; and his tle- 
 scendauts, on inquiring of them, state, that four generations have 
 j;assed since that event occuiTcd, which, at the usual computation 
 of thirty years for each generation, agi-ees within five yeai-s with 
 the period mentioned. An aged man of the same village, whi) 
 died about twenty years since, in the 107th yeai' of his age, had 
 been, repeatedly, heard to say, by the people of the hamlet, that he 
 had, in his youthful days, seen Mulla Hamid frequently, who, at 
 that time, was upwards of fifty years old. Another patriarch, 
 Malik ^azlz Khan, who is about a century old, states, that he had 
 heiu'd his father and gi'andfather relate, that they remembered 
 Hamld well ; and that he was just coming into notice as a poet, 
 towards the close of Rahman's life ; and some of Hamld's odes 
 having reached the ear of Rahman, he sent for the poet to come 
 and visit him ; and was so pleased with his modesty and hiunility, 
 that he gave him his blessing, and prayed that his verses might be 
 sweet unto all men, and that no one might ever excel him in 
 Afghan poetry. Up to the present day, certainly, Hamld has not 
 been siupassed. 
 
 The poet's gi'ave is still pointed out by the people of his native 
 village. Some of his descendants continue to dwell at ^Ifishu 
 Khel, and some are dispersed in other villages. The dwelling in 
 which Hamld was born, lived, and died, is now in ruins. 
 
THE POEMS 
 
 JIABD-UL-HAMID. 
 
 I. 
 
 THOU, for ever, with the cares of the flesh, distracted ! 
 Why awaken for thy soiil, sleeping misfortune and calamity 1 
 
 The wise act not according to the counsels of their enemies : 
 Then why takest thou the advice of the devil, carnality 1 
 
 Have some degree of shame for this white beard of thine ! 
 And, moreover, in broad day, robbery cannot be effected. 
 
 Look thou well to this thine own fast fleeting breath ; 
 Since to depart, eveiy respiration raiseth the ciy — Begone ! 
 
 For what evil are worldly goods accumulated with thee 1 
 When the bees fill the comb, they are of the honey deprived. 
 
 In the sight of God, as a man among men, thou art well ; 
 But not, in the world's eye, a self-made Shaykh* and Mulla.t 
 
 When the pus exudeth from the sore, the invalid ease obtaineth ; 
 But thou, at the passing away of this world, bewailest. 
 
 * A prelate, a doctor learned in the law, a venerable old man. 
 ■j" A priest, a learned man. 
 
88 JSABD-UL-HAMlD. 
 
 The hand of despair he will soon place upon his hip,* 
 Who girdctli \i\> his loins, in the world's people confiding. 
 
 O HamTd ! the fostering of the flesli's hists is improper ; 
 For no one, surely, showcth afFectimi for an inveterate foe ! 
 
 II. 
 
 This woi'ld, friend, is neither mine nor thine ! 
 
 It is to be left behind, and to endure after every one ! 
 
 Fallen into the arms of one, it laughetli and flirteth with another : 
 What an immodest, wanton harlot, indeed, is this world ! 
 
 Although it seemeth pretty and atti-active, what then? 
 Intrinsically, and inherently, this world is a black calamity. 
 
 Since there is no generous, no disinterested friendship in it, 
 Tiiough it may seem a friend, it is an enemy, in reality. 
 
 It will vciy speedily dash from the mountain's simimit 
 Tliem, with whom 't is hand in glove, and cheek by jowl. 
 
 It ridiculetli to their faces, its own followers, at all times ; 
 For ever practising mockeiy and derision, is this w(^rld. 
 
 In any one place of it, there is never, either rest, or tranquillity ; 
 For like unto a mere shadow, and naught else, is this world. 
 
 No one's aft'aii-s can be lirought to completion by the liglit of it ; 
 For this world is as the liglitning, and the liglit of the sky. 
 
 * Tlie term " glaring the hand on the hi|v,'* is similar to one's scratch- 
 ing his head, or jiuttingliis linger in his nioutli, wliea entirely at a less 
 what to do. 
 
JEABD-UL-HAMlD. 89 
 
 Absurdly, thou attachest thine heart to the sounds of its drum ; 
 For the world is a bridal procession — the mere guest of an hour. 
 
 No one hath become a gainer, by its trade and its traffic ; 
 
 For the world is a seller of barley, though an exposer of wheat. 
 
 It is not meet, that the good and great bend their steps towards it ; 
 For this world is a spectacle — a mere children's show. 
 
 HamId, who laugheth and is meny therein, but laugheth at himself ; 
 For, indeed, the world is only a place of sorrow and of grief 
 
 III. 
 
 I know not, in the least, whether this is love, or whether fire : 
 Do I consume in it of my own choice, or is this compulsion 1 
 
 Is this the inciirable agony of the tender passion, that thus killeth 
 
 me, 
 Or a viper, for whose sting, there is neither antidote nor chaiTn ? 
 
 Since I have no pretty and loval>le companion by my side. 
 This is, in reality, no dwelling ; it is, verily and truly, a grave ! 
 
 Be not disturbed, shouldst thou be reviled, on love's account ; 
 For such like abuse is the acme of all greatness whatsoever. 
 
 Since thou severest my heart's fibres, and leavest none sound. 
 Are these the arched eyebrows of the beloved, or a reaping-hook 1 
 
 Is it, indeed, the stigma attendant upon the dark-eyes' glances, 
 Which, notwithstanding loss of life and goods, leaveth me not 1 
 
 Do not be in any way abashed, by the censiu'e love bringeth on ; 
 For it is the embroidered decorations of existence itself. 
 
90 iEABD-UL-HAMlD. 
 
 Since it hath preserved me safely, from niiue own son-ows, 
 Is this love's anguish, or is it my sympathizing consoler 1 
 
 AMioover entereth on love's path must, indeed, endure its pangs ; 
 For this is an excellent present to send after the bride. 
 
 "When I beheld HamId over head and ears in love's affiih-s, 
 I found him mad — in sooth, Maj nun's* elder brother. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Love, assuredly, is both profit, as well as traffic, 
 Hence, why the candle yieldeth its head with a smile. 
 
 The chikor hath dyed red its legs,t and laugheth heartily, 
 Because, alone in its roost, it foiuid happiness and joy. 
 
 Inasmuch as life and goods are staked ujjon it, 
 
 This trade is, certainly, constituted to some advantage. 
 
 Though, the lover's appearance seemeth wretched, what thou t 
 This beggar in rags, swayeth the sceptre of dominion. 
 
 Where is wandering in the desert 1 where saunteruig in hamlets ? 
 "Where the hale and healthy ? where the crazy and mad ? 
 
 Zullkhaij: abandoned, entirely, the cushion of sovereignty, 
 When the first iuception of love's passion she acquired. 
 
 Those lovers who, from affection, openly, weep and wail. 
 Merely conceal, by so doing, their tnmsports aud their joy. 
 
 * See Eahman, Poem XIX., first note. 
 
 ■f" The chikor is the bartuvelle or Greek partridge; and the redness of 
 its leg8 refers to the custom amongst ]\Iulianiniadans of dyeing tlie liands 
 and feet, by voung people, on festive occasions; imd is a symbol of joy. 
 
 I Potiphar's wife. 
 
^ABD-UL-HAMID. 91 
 
 When the beloved accordeth her society with willingness, 
 The lovers say, unto themselves, now are we repaid ! 
 
 Because thou, Hajiid ! hast made but a beginning in thy love. 
 Hence, towards me, thy endearments thus so trifling are. 
 
 V. 
 
 In such wise have the fair made away with my heart, 
 As if, indeed, it had never, at any time, been mine own. 
 
 Though I summon back, this stag-eye captured heart ; 
 Yet, like the deer, it heedeth not any calling of mine. 
 
 Whereas my beloved inflicteth one wound upon another, 
 The medicine-chest of the physician is useless unto me. 
 
 Since thoughts of the rosy-cheeked, are the light of my eye. 
 It is objectionable, imto the rose, this gazing of mine. 
 
 Whatever part shall be found, free from headaches for the fail-, 
 There's the befitting spot where my head should be smitten. 
 
 WTiether I die or Hve, my head is laid at the portal of the beloved ; 
 Save that threshol,d, there is no other place of existence for me. 
 
 Should I draw the whole of the world's beauties to my side, 
 I could not derive from another, the good I gain from thee. 
 
 There cannot exist between any lover and his beloved. 
 Such cruel treatment as thine, and endm-ance like mine. 
 
 If other folks groan under the tyranny of the Mughals,* 
 
 The Almighty hath made my grief for thee, the Mu gh al to me. 
 
 * Referring- to the hateful rule of the Mu^al Emperors of Hindustan, 
 from the daj^s of Babar to the foundation of the Af^an monarchj'^ by 
 Ahmad Shah, which all Afghans cry out against. 
 
92 ^ABD-UL-ITAMlD. 
 
 Both the moth and the taper have often consumed themselves ; 
 But they have no conception, O HamTu, of this consuming of thuie ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 How shall I stroll in the garden, •without thee at my side 1 
 What shall I do with the jasmine and the lily, without thee ? 
 
 Since thou art the light of mine eyes, when thou art absent, 
 
 How shall I, the view of the parterre and its fi'agraut flowei'S, enjoy] 
 
 When every tulip, to a live coal tiimeth, and I bum thereon, 
 Let me not see them ; for what were Yaman* without thee ? 
 
 No one yearneth after Paradise, save the Deit3''s face to behold : 
 What then is home, or hamlet, or country to mc, without thee I 
 
 Forasmuch as it cannot reach the dimpled well of thy chin, 
 What shall I do with the short thread of life, without thee 1 
 
 As a mendicant monk, in the dust at thy door, I am happy ; 
 But wliat were Khutan's sovereignty f to me, without thee? 
 
 Since I am can-icd to the fire, perpetuall\', like meat for the roast, 
 Of wluit use to me is existence, like slaugliter, without thee? 
 
 Say then unto me, HamId, wliom thou, so cruelly, leavest — 
 Unto him of the sightless eyes say, what shall I dt) without thee. 
 
 " Yaman — Arabia Felix, celebrated throughout the East fur it-'* tulips 
 and its rubies. 
 
 f A country of Chinese Tfirtarv, famous for its musk, ami the beauty 
 of its women. 
 
^ABD-UL-HAMlD. 93 
 
 VII. 
 
 Bo not become, like the bubble, wholly vaiu and inflated ; 
 For, from such vanity thou wilt, to ruin and perdition go. 
 
 Ask not from the Almighty, the rank and dignity of man ; 
 Since, like the brutes, thou art occupied, in eating and drinking. 
 
 Even the beast, in the plough, goeth imiform to the fuiTow ; 
 Wherefore then, quittest thou, thus sinfidly, the Law's precepts ? 
 
 Every breath thou drawest, without remembering thy Creator, 
 Consider, that thou swallowest a live coal, by the same com- 
 putation. 
 
 Seeing that thou knowest nothing, save sleeping and eating, 
 In what respect art thou superior to the beasts of the field ] 
 
 Why writhe in agony, at the bare thoughts of Hell's pangs. 
 When thou wanderest about tormented by carnality's cares 1 
 
 FoUow not, thus presumptuously, the vanities of the world ; 
 For in this, like the lightning, thou wilt soon lose thyself. 
 
 If, in the accounts here below, there shall no errors be, 
 There will be none, in those, of the account-book above. 
 
 Be not concei-ned, HamId, regarding thy daily bread ; 
 For that Causer of Causes, the Infinite, existeth ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 A spoiled son taketh not to discipline and instruction; 
 And a shaded palm-tree yieldeth not ripe dates. 
 
94 .EABD-UL-HAMlD. 
 
 Let not that boy be ever taken unto thy embrace, 
 Who may not take, also, to his lessons and his school. 
 
 Certainly, the ass and mule arc in their place, in the stable ; 
 But not a blockhead, without application, in the house. 
 
 When one degeneiute creature appeareth in a family, 
 
 He bringeth disgrace on his lineage, both present and past. 
 
 "According to the son's good or bad actions, the fixther is 
 
 remembered," 
 Is a saying that hath been verified, throughout the world. 
 
 The finger is pointed towards the rider, and to him only, 
 Whose hoi-se, the bridle's guidance doth not properly obey. 
 
 In heart, affection — on tongue, asperity ; it behoveth, with the son : 
 What an excellent axiom — "Where the blow is, there is respect." 
 
 Joseph, then, became fit for the exercise of sovereignty, 
 ^\^len he received the blows of displeasure, and of wrath. 
 
 Like tlie flics, every worthless creature buzzeth about him, 
 When sugar-lipped HamTd reciteth his sweet strains. 
 
 IX. 
 
 I am sunk in care, to this degree, on accoimt of the fair, 
 Like imto a stone, submerged at the bottom of .Eman's sea.* 
 
 For this reason, all peace and tranquillity are lost unto mo, 
 Tliat my tears have engulphed the goods and chattels of patience. 
 
 Those unac(iuaintcd witli the case, call it the sunset's redness. 
 Though by weei)ing blood, I even, the sky itself, submerge. 
 
 •* The Persiim (nilf. 
 
 r«J_,l 
 
^ABD-UL-HAMlD, 95 
 
 Be not misled by the honied words of the deceitful fair ; 
 For they, hy this witchery, have whole peoples o'erwhelm'd. 
 
 Thus, under the mask of fondness, they slay and destroy one, 
 Like as thovigh Khizr* were drowned, in immortality's fount. 
 
 In such wise, they keep me at a distance, when in their presence, 
 Like one thirsting for a draught of water, in solicitude drowned. 
 
 The pearl of the ocean of their coyness cannot be found. 
 
 Though I eugulph, without number, the ships of patience therein. 
 
 Love's lighted taper, nnto the tomb, he hath borne away, 
 \Mio carried the arrow of separation, embedded in his heart. 
 
 The paper boats of Hamid's cares aiad anxieties. 
 
 The world hath, in the fathomless ocean of amazement, o'erwhelmed. 
 
 X. 
 
 In what manner shall I hush the sighs of this seared heart ? 
 
 The nightingales will not be mute, among the roses of the parterre ! 
 
 The tongiie becometh again extricated, like a hero from the melee. 
 However strongly I seize it with my teeth, that it may silent 
 remain, 
 
 Through crudeness and rawness, fennentation, from the vessel 
 
 ariseth ; 
 But the wise, from their own shrewdness, will taciturn be. 
 
 With water only, shall the lamp of thy desire become lighted, 
 Shouldst thou, like the pearl-oyster, silence, with patience, thy 
 tongue. 
 
 * See note at page 48. 
 
9G .EARD-UL-HAMln. 
 
 When the seed is concealed in the earth, it becometh an ear of com ; 
 Therefore, lock np thine !inj,'iii.sh, within the recesses of thy breast. 
 
 Tlio nightingale's wailings, about the rose, are not befitting ; 
 For the moths consume themselves, in silence, on the red flame. 
 
 Like as the straw and the yellow amber* attrict each other, 
 Thus, with silent tongue, do loving friends, each other invoke. 
 
 As the mother, the innocent cause of her infant's death, moumeth 
 
 silently ;t 
 So, inaudibly, the heart-enamoured utter their sighs and wails. 
 
 How could he entertain honourably his sugar-mouthed guest. 
 Should HamTd's sweetness-raining, thoughtful strains l)e hushed 1 
 
 XL 
 
 My heart hath gone out, as a help in the fight, a look to obtain ; 
 And to the right and to the left are discharged the arrows of sight. 
 
 With the ardour I iun filled with, my heart throbcth and boateth. 
 Like as the infant springcth and boundeth, in its mother's ai-ms. 
 
 By tlic hiuid of the forsaken, peace of mind cannot be grasped — 
 When do the heart-scorched, from a handfiU of water, find relief? 
 
 The stars, in their gladness, at my union witli the beloved, 
 Tlie tamborine beating, have thrust their fingere through. 
 
 * Oritiiitiil aiiime, or sppcie.s of amber, which has the virtue of attracting 
 straw.H. 
 
 f Tliis refers particularly to Aftjhun mothers very often beeoniing the 
 innocent cause of the death of their infants, from falling asleep whilst) 
 giving .suck at night, and tlie nipple being in the hifant's mouth, the 
 wei;rht of the brea.>t itself suffocates the child. 
 
.eabi)-ul-ha:mId. 97 
 
 By the recoUectiou, every moment, of the mole of my beloved, 
 A musk-pod, as it were, hecometh broken upon my head. 
 
 The Rustams* of patience and abstinence, like little children, 
 Take shelter, in retirement, from the criishing blow of love. 
 
 At the fountain of union's attainment, I die, with lips parched. 
 From the burning fever of the dread of separation. 
 
 Since the self-willed, like HamId, they have made humble. 
 Love's pomp and grandeur are not without mishaps and blows. 
 
 XII. 
 
 From the fire and fever of separation defend us ! 
 Preserve us, God, from the fierce flames of Hell ! 
 
 They make earth and heaven tremble on man's account : 
 Shield us, alas ! from the gTeat tyranny of the fiiir ! 
 
 Evil destiny made it my grievous lot, imto life's end, 
 To be ever departing, alas ! from the sweet-lipped ones. 
 
 Though I, tlirough reverence, cannot look upon her face ; 
 Yet, for the com-tesy of the vmgracious ones, alas ! alas ! 
 
 The lot of the love-lorn, in comparison with the damned. 
 Is, alas ! veiy many times more horrid and abominable. 
 
 Who deem the tormenting of lovers to be a virtuous act — 
 0, gTiard us, and defend from this ci'eed of the fan* ! 
 
 AVlio cannot utter, with the tongue, w^hat the heart wisheth — 
 From the desires of such lovers, save and rescue us ! 
 
 * Eustam— the Persian Hercules, and the hero of the celebrated epic 
 poem of the Shah Namah by FirdousT. 
 
 H 
 
98 iEABD-UL-HAMlU. 
 
 The morning, whose duwu is called the mom of doom — 
 From the iiight of such moruuig, save us, aud preserve ! 
 
 Tliou sayest that HamId should be debaiTed from the fair — 
 Alas, monitor, that tliuii shoidtlst speak such monstrous words ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 necessity ! what a terrible calamity art thou, 
 That changest man's nature into that of the dog ! 
 
 Tlie I^Iuhanamadan, thou makest follow Hindu rites, 
 And the Hindu, the iisages of the Faithful to observe, 
 
 Kings and Princes thou makest stand at the door. 
 
 Of their crowns deprived, and from their thrones driven. 
 
 Even the free and unrestrained bu-ds of the air also. 
 Thou entanglest, helpless and paralyzed in the net. 
 
 The tutor likewise, in the sight of his owii scholar, 
 Thou makest even more contemptible than tlie fowl. 
 
 Since by them, man cannot be exempted 
 From the tax of necessity's urgent demands. 
 
 Say then, from aJl power and dominion soever, 
 Aud in empire's sway, what advantage is there ? 
 
 Unto the opulent, infinite Deity, this is exclusive. 
 That He is wanting in nothing, whatsoever it be. 
 
 Tlie raising up of HamTd, too, shall be effected, 
 From out of the waves of affliction, and of grief ! 
 
iEABD-UL-HAMID. 99 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The friendship of this world's friend is false and hollow : 
 From the tulip thou seekest permanence, imavailingly.* 
 
 Like mito one who vainly calleth to a goose for a porringer,t 
 So absm'd, hath become, the hope of any constancy. 
 
 Since no one is the gainer from a fi'iend's friendship, 
 Let not tliis improfitable, gainless trade be entered on. 
 
 He, who in his necessities, craveth anght from fate's revolutions, 
 Unavailmgly, runneth after the lightning's bright gleams. 
 
 To-moiTow, thy manliness will be, from thy acts, seen ; 
 Therefore, in boasting, raise no foolish noise, to-day. 
 
 Speaking, without acting, is mere trouble and vexation : 
 The kernel of desire, by this absui'dity, cannot be obtained. 
 
 He, who may open his mouth unto the mean and base, 
 Rendereth the pearls of his own speech worthless, altogether. 
 
 When, thereby, its o'^ti rent garment it cannot gather togethei", 
 The rose, imreasonably, laugheth, at the weeping of the dew.;}: 
 
 Since, in the flame, HamId ! the moth uttereth no ciy, 
 The waihng of the nightingale for the rose, is utterly vain. 
 
 * The tulip is considered the frailest flower of the garden. 
 
 y Childi-en, in Afghanistan, when they see wild geese, run after them 
 crying out to give them a cup. 
 
 1 The rose is said to be laughing when it is wet with the drops or 
 tears of dew, which is unreasonable ; for by the dew's moisture, the rose's 
 garment, which, as a bud, was gathered together, becomes rent or full- 
 blown. 
 
 h2 
 
100 uEABU-UL-HAMTl). 
 
 XV. 
 
 Keep thy face for ever wet with the water of thy tears ; 
 For in these waters can he seen, the lustre of the pearl. 
 
 The lamp of Joseph's countenance at that time became lighted, 
 ^^^len his brethren made it red, by their cuft's and blows. 
 
 The tree that is obscured, will be backward in irivinir fruit, 
 Until it shall be brought, face to face, with the sun. 
 
 Like the rose, thy fxce shall glow before every one. 
 If thou but wash the face of the heart with blood. 
 
 The darksome stain of thy eageniess will not disappear, 
 Till, with patience's pearl-powder, thou cleanse not the fice. 
 
 The patient and submissive, from prudence and bashfulness, 
 Are unable to look upon their own faces, the mirror within. 
 
 He who bearcth the blister of toil and labour, upon his hand. 
 Will gaze, without apprehension, on the siuface of the gem. 
 
 Unto the wise, a display of knowledge is a great defect — 
 
 The lustre wf the gom changeth the mirror to an earthen plate. 
 
 If thou seek after distinction in the coml of the adored, 
 Like as the mirror, smear over thy foce with ashes and dust. 
 
 The ardent longing of H.vmId containeth naught of sinfulness ; 
 It only seeketh everywhere, for that which it hath lost. 
 
 XVL 
 
 Since the world's pomps and vanities are accounted nothing, 
 Only the wurthloss man will boast of such nothingness. 
 
^ABD-UL-HAMID. 
 
 101 
 
 The existence of the transitory woi'ld is as the lightning's flash ; 
 And by the hght of a meteor, no affairs can be disposed of. 
 
 The world's lusts and vanities, are but the phantoms of a dream ; 
 , For when the sleeper again awaketh, they will be naught. 
 
 From this world, eveiy man departeth, mouth filled with gall ; 
 For it hath never yet made sweet any one's disposition. 
 
 Notwithstanding they fought and struggled so together-, 
 Neither Alexander nor Darius carried the least thing hence. 
 
 He, who is acquainted with the woi'ld's deceptions and deceits. 
 Neither tradeth nor trafficketh in its markets, in the least. 
 
 Since the integrity of friendship cannot be preserved, 
 
 The friendship of this world's friends is, than nothing, less. 
 
 This embryonic thing, no one hath brought to perfection ; 
 For its permanence is no longer than the lightning's flash. 
 
 HamTd ! he who is free from its cares and vexations, 
 Is perfectly indifferent regarding the world's people too ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Shroiid well the sight from the black eyes' glances ! 
 Arise not, but, from drawn swords, gaiard well thine head ! 
 
 Before love, the asceticism of a century is as nothing : 
 From a thousand bales of cotton, keep off" a single spark ! 
 
 Unto thy human form, a road of dire peril is affection : 
 Guard well thyself : on the path of danger enter not ! 
 
 Love hath made reprobates of many simple devotees : 
 Mountains on mountains of ice, from the sun's face screen 
 
 ^ Cf THE 
 
102 JiABI)-UL-IIAMlD. 
 
 No other attainment will avail thee, in love's affairs, 
 Save one — the gift of madness — of which, be then beware ! 
 
 Like as the naked man, fi-om sharp swords himself shieldeth, 
 
 Do thou, from the moiTiing curses* of the afflicted, thyself guard ! 
 
 Cold sighs are not good for the novice in ardent love — 
 Keep the pinching wind, carefully, from the fresh woimd ! 
 
 Love and affection, with conceit and vanity, cannot exist : 
 Guard well the guide's breath and footsteps, in this path ! 
 
 Shouldst thou, Zephyr ! go in the direction of the beloved, 
 Be mindful of the message, respecting HamId's aspirations ! 
 
 XVIH. 
 
 AMion black antimony is applied unto dark eycs,t 
 From one dark calamity, another hundred spring. 
 
 Black eyes, and sable locks, and diu-k eyebrows — 
 All these ore gloomy misfortimes — man-devourers. 
 
 No one is able to guard himself, even from, one ill ; 
 
 Yet on me, a hundred misfortunes are heaped, one on the otlicr. 
 
 I am neither accoimted among the living, nor the dead ; 
 For love hath placed me, absolutely, the two stiites between. 
 
 Wliat now, indeed, is cither name or fame unto me ? 
 Wherefore doth the bare-headed, woe-begonc, beat his breast 1 
 
 * It is pupposfd flint the complaints and tlio rurses of the oppressed are 
 moat eii'ective at the dawn of diiy. 
 t See note at pnge 39. 
 
^EABD-UL-HAMID. 103 
 
 If tliou, monitor ! callcst thyself as wise as Plato, 
 Unto me, in sooth, thou art bnt Majnun's crazy brother.* 
 
 I will now embrace the paganism of sable ringlets, 
 If thon givest any of thy admonitions unto me. 
 
 fool ! love hath vanquished many powerful ones : 
 
 "Why then, on the strength of thy hypocritical austerity, so elate 1 
 
 What idol is it, HamId, that is resting on thy heart, 
 Unto which, thou art ever, in adoration, bent down 1 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Were the looks constantly directed to every fair one's face. 
 How long, in love, would the saint's sanctity stand "? 
 
 "As thou eatest of every tree, one, at least, will be poison "- 
 This axiom hath been tested throughout the world. 
 
 In one short moment, love tmiieth into ridicule 
 
 The saint's century of piety, and the empire of the prince. 
 
 It will drag him away disgraced to the market-place. 
 Though the hermit be sitting, a hundred seclusions within. 
 
 Love's aflfliirs cannot be conducted by the wisest counsels — 
 The body cannot be cast into the fire, by any safe plan. 
 
 The languid eyes, far-reaching, have my heart reached. 
 Though the arrow of the lax bow but tardily striketh. 
 
 It is ever, either the jingle of the anklets of the beloved, 
 Or the clanking chains of love's distracted ones. 
 
 * See note at pag-e 29. 
 
104 .KAlil)-L'L-]lAMlI). 
 
 Tliough the mart of the fair be crowded with misfortunes, 
 They are not, by rebuke of saint, or ascetic, restrained. 
 
 Every breath, everv- step, it placcth at the breast malediction's 
 
 sword ; 
 And separation from the beloved, sick \mto death, hath HamTi' 
 
 made ! 
 
 XX. 
 
 The fragrance of the flowers of this world's garden is gone ; 
 And the kind disposition of its fair ones hath, also, departed. 
 
 Neither the nature of my love for the idols leavcth me, 
 Nor hath the i)ronencss to tyranny left them either. 
 
 How will love, O monitor ! leave me now. 
 
 When, from head to foot, it hath entered at every pore ? 
 
 ^ly soul wovdd make efforts to depart and leave me, 
 If the pursuit of the fair were to leave my hetu-t. 
 
 The heart, gone forth in the search of the youthful, cannot bo 
 
 found : 
 He is lost, who, at night, towards the distant fire, proccedeth. 
 
 This river Abji Sind,* which aj)poareth to our view, 
 
 Is but a small rivulet, exuded from the ocean of my teai-s. 
 
 ^fy friend, I conceive, hath gone over to my rival's counsels ; 
 Since obseiTance of that vow, 'twixt her and mo, hath ceased. 
 
 To obtain justice on them lieth in no one's jwwer, HamTd ! 
 Tlie blood of the slaiu, by the dark-eyed, is shed and gone ! 
 
 * Tlic K;itli('i of Rivers — the Afillirin iiniiie for tlif Indus. 
 
iEABD-UL-HAMlD. 105 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Soften, God, the heart of the guardian* with benevolence ! 
 Make this Hindu, somewhat of a Muslim unto me ! 
 
 My patience, make into a sharp sword, for love's sake ; 
 
 And the marplots, with their own doubts, cut to pieces therewith ! 
 
 Since the hearts of the fawn-eyed take fright therefrom, 
 Change the whole of my prosperity to a desert wild ! 
 
 Apply fire unto the dwelling of my faith and worldly goods ! 
 On this plea, at least, make me a guest, for love's own sake ! 
 
 Give unto destriTction the goods and chattels of my existence. 
 That may not be illumined with the lamp of the dear one's face ! 
 
 Either, for me renew the period of union with the beloved. 
 Or, in separation, let my term of life but a moment be ! 
 
 Since she acteth, at all times, on giving ear unto my enemies. 
 Make my friend somewhat ashamed of conduct like this ! 
 
 IVIy adversaries cast me into the burning flames of separation — 
 Preserve me, God ! like as Abraham,t save Thou me ! 
 
 O HamTd ! to-day, look stedfastly on the face of the beloved ; 
 For to-morrow, thou wilt wiing thy hands, and grieve for her, 
 
 XXIT. 
 
 To thyself thou speakest well, but actest not rightly : 
 Wliat is this thou sayest — what is that thou doest 1 
 Thou wouldst reap wheat, where thou didst barley sow ; 
 But the good Cometh when thou actest worthily. 
 
 * See second note at page 26. f See note at pag'e 80. 
 
106 ^ABD-UL-HAMID. 
 
 Day and night, for tlic sake of the flesh's hists, 
 
 Thou takest the trouble to count the hairs of thy head ; 
 
 But in seeing the truth, like unto the hare, 
 
 With eyes wide open, thou puttest thyself to sleep. 
 
 Shouldst thou, iipon the impaling stake, be placed, 
 Or shouldst thou be precipitated into a well, 
 Thou hast neither those eyes nor those ears. 
 By means of which, thou mightest hear or see. 
 
 The very branch, actually, on which thou sittest, 
 Thou cuttest off — thou actest like one that is blind : 
 Thou plautest thoms in the midst of that path. 
 On which, every moment, thou thyself journey est. 
 
 If any worldly loss shoidd come upon thee, 
 
 Thou lamentest thereat, and makest tliine eyes red ; 
 
 But though faith and religion should leave thee altogether. 
 
 Thou makest that a matter of not the least concern. 
 
 For the sake of sweet-flavoured and dainty victuals, 
 Thou, willingly, acceptcst a hundred heats and colds : 
 No dog, even, for the sake of its belly, would practise 
 Such despicable acts, as those that thou committest. 
 
 Sometimes, thou usest force ; at others, entreatest : 
 At times, actest with humility ; at others, with pride : 
 Tliis one body, for the sake of the world's lusts. 
 Thou now makest a dog of ; and now, a wolf 
 
 At that time, brightness cometh upon thee. 
 When thou causest darkness in another's house : 
 The funeral entertainment is, \mto others, soitow ; 
 But thou tunicst it into a joyous bridal feast. 
 
yBABD-UL-HAMlD. 107 
 
 Any matter, however vile and ]:)ase it may he, 
 Meetcth with entire approval, thy heart within. 
 Thou neither feelest shame, nor accoimtest it a fault, 
 However improper the act that thou committest. 
 
 Now, thou becomest a monk ; now, turnest priest : 
 Sometimes, blackenest the eyelids ;""' at others, dressest in gi'een.f 
 At times, a strolling singer, with hand to forehead, bowing : 
 Sometimes, a soldier, thovi takest to sword and dirk. 
 
 At times, thou heavest sighs ; at others, weepest : 
 Sometimes, speakest choleric words ; at others, cold ones. 
 All these are caused through the promptings of the flesh — 
 Thou tuniest water into fire, thou sensualist ! 
 
 Though the worship of God is incumbent upon all, 
 Neither do these things constitute it, nor dost thou perform. 
 Say then, in what employment wilt thou delight — 
 Wilt thou, with an ox, or with an ass, amuse thyself 1 
 
 If the favour of the Almighty be essential unto thee. 
 Thou wilt renounce for thyself all vanity and pride. 
 Thou wilt, thyself, tread carnality under thy feet ; 
 And wilt, upon another spot, thine eyes direct. 
 
 Thou wilt seize contentment with thy hands : 
 Thou wilt consider carnality and the devil thieves. 
 Thou wilt follow in the steps of the good, always : 
 With heart, and with tongue, thou wilt imitate them. 
 
 * Anointing the eyelids with antimony on festive occasions, and also to 
 increase their blackness. 
 
 t Green is the mourning colour of Muhammadan countries. 
 
108 .EABD-UL-HAMID. 
 
 "\Miat canst thou by thine owti evil disposition against others effect 1 
 Thou wilt merely bring injury and calamity, upon thyself! 
 Thou fallest into a well of thine own £i"ee-will : 
 Then what complaint against ELvmId bringest thou 1 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Although free from grief and sorrow, am I never ; 
 Still, that I meddled in love's affairs, rcgi*et I never. 
 
 Thovigh my goods be plundered, and my neck stricken, 
 The one to turn from the moon-faced, am I never. 
 
 In the acquirement of a single straw's weight of love, 
 To be obstructed, by cither faith or religdon, am I never. 
 
 Whether my head be firmly placed, or be it severed, 
 The one to rejoice or grieve thereat, am I never. 
 
 Though I stake both life and goods, on the heart-ravishers, 
 Reproached therefrom, the world before, am I never. 
 
 Like one bereaved of his senses, in love's affairs, 
 
 Thinking of mine own profit or injuiy, am I never. 
 
 * 
 
 To me, monitor ! say naught regarding jjatiencc ; 
 For the ear-giver, unto siich speeches, am I never. 
 
 Whose sweet face hatli not, thus, amazed me evei". 
 On suL'li a cliarmcr yet, set eyes have I never. 
 
 Wliy should my dear one, on Hamid a kiss bestow, 
 \Mien, of such beneficence as this, worthy, am I never. 
 
^ABD-UL-HAMlD. 109 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Though I have become crushed by the multitude of my sorrows, 
 I cauuot be patient, nor can I, from the fair abstain. 
 
 Let all the offerings and sacrifices of the world, be an oblation, 
 Unto the reproaches, upbraidings, and coquetry of the fair. 
 
 'When I cast my eyes on their beauty, sweetly blooming, 
 The fresh-blown flowers of spring are nothing to me. 
 
 Before the sleepy, languid glance of my love, I wonder. 
 That with a lax-strung bow, they, so sharply, strike. 
 
 She raiseth uproar in the privacy of the secluded. 
 
 When this peace-disturber display eth her charms, luito them. 
 
 She dischargeth a thousand darts, right into my heart, 
 When, in anger, she turneth her eyes, sharply, on me. 
 
 Vfhj would any one, entreatingly, ask aught of them, 
 Were not the upbraidings of the fair, with honey mixed 1 
 
 The sweet creatures, by their duennas,''' avert the evil eye ; 
 For in front of the melon-bed, the black shard will be placed.f 
 
 If he hath not pressed the lij)s of the sugar-lipped ones. 
 How hath HamId's tongue become a scatterer of sweets 1 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Patience and forbearance, turn man's nature into fire : 
 
 The malevolent and the ill-willed, on its flame, shall be straw. 
 
 * See second note at page 26. 
 
 t It is the custom to stick up a piece of a broken black pot in melon 
 grounds, to avert the evil eye, in the same manner as they raise up 
 scarecrows in England to keep the birds away. 
 
110 ^ABD-UL-HAMlD. 
 
 Fire reacheth the evil-minded, from their own persons — 
 The Phoenix makcth its owii nest, a furnace for its body. 
 
 The arroAYS of the pangs of the oppressed, strike home — 
 None of the discharges arc liarndess — none miss the mark ! 
 
 Tlie world-euamonred are, of all fools, the gi-catest ; 
 
 For, like the baby, they show eagerness for the flaming fii'e. 
 
 Every man, who, after a pestilence, desireth a market, 
 
 In his eagerness for physic, the worthless fellow, poison taketh. 
 
 They, who look for perfection out of arrogance, are fools ; 
 
 For, in foul water, the nccessarj'' ablutions cannot be performed. 
 
 No one can restrain the passions from manifold wickedness : 
 No one can prevent fire from consiuning straw. 
 
 When one l^eucfit, out of a thousand such, thou hast not realized 
 
 thereby. 
 Out upon such shameless, such execrable longings as those ! 
 
 The world, slumbering in the sleep of negligence, heareth him not, 
 Though HamId shouteth, as loud as the peal of a bell. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Be not grieved at the departm-e of this world's wealth ! 
 Be not soiTowfid if out of thy foot comcth a broken thoni ! 
 
 The flesh's lusts and vanities, God hath givon captive unto thee ; 
 Tlirii do not thou, the captive of tliino own slaves, become ! 
 
 Godliness and piety cannot exist witli eonteit and egotism : 
 In tliis matter, witliout a guide or instructor, be thou not ! 
 
^ABD-UL-HAMlD. Ill 
 
 There is no bridle that can be phiced in the mouth of passion ; 
 Then let it not be trained up, as a reprobate and robber, by thee ! 
 
 Where is the scar of a single brand ? where that of a thousand. ] 
 Enter not, then, into schemes for increasing worldly wealth ! 
 
 Say, is the light or the heavy load, the best for the head 1 
 Indigence, for thee, is good : do not thou a lordling become ! 
 
 The Almighty hath given thee ears to hear, and eyes to see ; 
 Then do not, wittingly, like one, blind, from the precipice fall ! 
 
 With smiling face and unclouded brow, unto the world become 
 Its injustice-receiving tai'get ; but, the arrow, become thou not ! 
 
 All other bonds soever, Hamid ! are easy to be borne ; 
 But, at least, let thy neck be, from the chain of avarice, free ! 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 My friend observeth none of the usages of affection towards me ! 
 Alas, my dark, dark destiny ! shine out a little on me ! 
 
 Let me some day, at least, to mine own, that lip press, 
 That every hour sijppeth up the very blood of my heart ! 
 
 Thi'ough her unkindness, even yet, thou rubbest thine eyes with thy 
 
 hand : 
 Then why, after the fair, runnest thou again, poor wretch 1 
 
 My friend, through coquetry or playfulness, speaketh incoherently 
 
 to me. 
 Or her lips adhere together, from the sugar of their sweetness. 
 
 The load of love, which neither earth nor heavens can bear — 
 With what strength wouldst thou raise it, thou improvident one ? 
 
112 ^A«D-UL-HAMlD. 
 
 Alas, that I had not become euamom-ed, when I first fell in love ! 
 Now, whatever it is, this must be, with a good .L,Tace, borne. 
 
 Gazing upon the comitenances of the beautiful, is HamId's calling ; 
 The eyes of the coward only, become dazzled at the gleam of the 
 sword ! 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Really, this existence, so to say, is altogether worthlessness. 
 Since, in the world, I pass my life away, absent from my friend. 
 
 I camiot imagine what unfortunate, hard grain I am, 
 
 That I do not become ground, l)etween the mill-stones of absence. 
 
 The sable locks and fair coimtenance of my beloved, 
 I behold in every thing, white or black, in the world. 
 
 I use my tongue in sucli a manner, thi'ough helplessness, 
 That I may my friend regain, either by falsehood or V)y truth. 
 
 If other folks, by alchemy, transmute dust into gold, 
 I, by the alchemy of love, have tiu-ucd gold into dust. 
 
 Where is love 1 and where too, shame and modesty's fear 1 
 "Where there is shame or modesty, dancing cannot be.* 
 
 If thou seekest a dear-one, for her, shed thou rivers of teivrs ; 
 For, in the waters of this ocean, that pearl can be foimd. 
 
 From the door of worthy and base, he prcservcth both breath and 
 
 step — 
 "WHioever wandercth about frantic, in dcsoi-f and in wild. 
 
 * Referring to jniblic dancing in the East, the occupation of a certain 
 class of females, and confined to tbem only. 
 
.eabd-ul-hamTd. li; 
 
 HamId styleth that person a mei'e worshipper of idols, 
 
 Who, with manifest hypocrisy, performeth his tlnty imto God. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 "Wlien the dear friend who departed, unto her friend retiuiieth. 
 In truth, 't is as if the ^lessiah drew near unto the dead ! 
 
 Disjunction from the adored is a dire, and a black calamity ; 
 God forbid any follower of Islam, into such affliction fall ! 
 
 In such wise, hath separation caused my confidence to fail. 
 As when, all at once, a fieiy dragon might one confront. 
 
 Tlu'ough bashfuluess, I am imable to look upon her sweet face — 
 Bleared eyes become wholly dazzled by the lightning's flash. 
 
 Neither will the promises of the fair be, hereafter, fulfilled, 
 jSTor will the Phoenix fall entrapped, in any one's snare. 
 
 Do not become altogether hopeless of desire's attainment ; 
 For the Almighty bringeth to the gTomid the birds of the air. 
 
 Since I have taken up my residence, the city of sorrow within, 
 For me, there is no laughter or joy, without sorrow after. 
 
 Thi'ough excessive fear of the dread morn of separation. 
 
 In the presence of the rosy-cheeked one, I like the taper weep. 
 
 By this, thy non-appearance, thus, full-well, I know, 
 
 That, either to-day or to-morrow, unto HamId, bringeth death. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 thou constant endm-er of misery in the cares of the flesh ! 
 
 thou, happy in this affliction, and in doing injuiy unto others ! 
 
114 ^ABD-UL-HAMlD. 
 
 No one obtaineth the slightest benefit, or advantage from thee : 
 Indeed, thou art like a thoni ever buried in the side of others ! 
 
 Thou wilt, one day, become a captive, like unto the hawk ; 
 
 Since, day and night, thine own species' flesh, hath thy food become. 
 
 Let not the sighs of the afflictions of the oppressed strike one ; 
 For, from their gasps and sobs, whole regions to perdition go. 
 
 The execrations of the oppressed pass not harmless, Hamid ! 
 The shaft of the archer striketh tlie target unerrin<j:]v ! 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 At the present time, extinct is the principle of sincerity ! 
 That which is taken now, is but the empty name of sincerity ! 
 
 I discover nouglit else, whatever, save duplicity and deceit, 
 Though I have carefidly examined the horoscope of sincerity. 
 
 Let any one, with the finger, unto me a single man point out, 
 Whose acts are in accordance with the usages of sincerity. 
 
 As though folks, festive songs, over a dead bride, should sing ; 
 So entirely hollow and doleful are the drum soimds of sincerity. 
 
 When the occupation of fother and son, is dissimulation, 
 Wliat then remaineth of the colour and odom- of sincerity ? 
 
 Because hypocrisy hath destroyed the taste of the world's moutli ; 
 Hence poison of the infernal tree* is the sweet savoiu' of sincerity. 
 
 Examine closely the cottages and the mansions of tlio world : 
 Say, hatli any one laiil on their widls a single layer uf sincerity ? 
 
 • The infernal tree meiitioiu'd ia tiie Kui'fui, the fruit of which is 
 .supposed to be the liiaJs of dtvils. 
 
^ABD-UL-HAMlD. 115 
 
 The world containeth none sincere ; but should such be found, 
 Then, Z^AJtlD is the special and obedient sei'vant of sincerity. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Every rebel is brought to siibmission, by sincerity : 
 Every shameless one is made ashamed, by sincerity. 
 
 Like the sun, its brightness shall become world-irradiating — 
 Every brow, that uprightness and sincerity may illumine. 
 
 I will be answerable if it come not, and crouch at his feet. 
 If one act, with sincerity, unto the most ravenous beast. 
 
 No sheai-s soever can, with its mouth, any bond sever, 
 That shall have been made strong and diu-able, by sincerity. 
 
 Like as when, on the rising of the sun, light appeareth ; 
 Thus sincerity life bestoweth, at every breath and footstep. 
 
 Like as the morning dawnetli, so shall the bud blossom, 
 Wlieu sincerity, its smiling mouth, to laugh shall incline. 
 
 Those things, which the sorcerer by his enchantments effecteth, 
 Are as nothing, compared to what is effected by sincerity. 
 
 Forthwith, the hardened old infidel of a thousand years. 
 Is made a seeker of Islam's true faith, by sincerity. 
 
 From the race of hj^DOcrites, HamId, guard thyself. 
 Lest, with their deceit, they turn rotten thy sincerity ! 
 
 XXXIIT. 
 
 To this degree, art thou become absorbed in thine own selfish 
 
 objects. 
 That the interests of others are good for nothing, in thy sight. 
 
 i2 
 
1 1 C) ^ABD-UL-Il A MiD. 
 
 When the feasible wishes of others are so difficult iiuto tliee, 
 AMiat remedy wilt thou devise, as to thine own impossible ones ] 
 
 Until, of thine own free will, thou curry out the wishes of others, 
 How, by the means of them, shall thy ends be effected 1 
 
 "AVhere there is no object, what is the object?" — so the proverb 
 
 runneth ; 
 Hence, for the lamp, the nightingale no solicitude showeth. 
 
 Dost repeat a prayer, that with such vehemence thou criest ? 
 Calling upon the Almighty, is not the object of thy invocations ! 
 
 Without being simimoned, folks aroimd the lamp assemble. 
 
 Because, with silent mouth, it mcntioncth its aims and wishes. 
 
 In all this amount of troul)lc, that he taketh on himself, 
 
 The giving of advice and admonition is the only object of H.vmTo. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Were there any chance of thy exhortations taking eftect on mo. 
 Then, monitor ! unto me, thou wouldst have given admonition. 
 
 Love hath made my eyes more wanton, even, than the locust's,* 
 "Wliilst thou, unjustly, stirrest about in them the rubbish of ad^-ice. 
 
 I had not been o'erwhelm'd to this degree, in the ocean of grief. 
 Had admonition, whether little t>r much, into my heart entcreti 
 
 Like as the st^xte of the dead, past all remedy, becometh ; 
 So the heai-t, by love despoiled and ravaged, giveth not ear to 
 advice. 
 
 * Tlie fixed, staring eye of the lonist, is an cmWi'in of immodest eyes, 
 that never look down. 
 
iEABD-UL-HAMlD. 117 
 
 "Wlioii, counsellor ! will they become acceptable unto lovers — 
 These nionk-and-hermit-approved expostulations of thine 1 
 
 From counsel, what alleviation doth the jjoor lover obtain ] 
 To the snake-and-scorpion-stuug, what availeth admonition ] 
 
 'Midst the uproar and timiult of the assembly of reprobates, 
 Can a secret and whispered homily, at any time, be heard 1 
 
 Love hath ever condemned me to far worse punishment, 
 Whenever I have listened, the admonitions of others unto. 
 
 I will not then, mentor ! unto thy counsels give ear ; 
 For, as fate will have it, I, HamId, hold advice unlucky. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Wlien men covet, from their fellow-men, any worldly object, 
 Their human nature, from this covetousness, that of a dog be- 
 cometh. 
 
 The foot of their modesty trippeth and stumbleth, perpetually, 
 AVhen they, by the flesh's lusts incited, upon covetousness seize. 
 
 Thro' covetousness for the grain, the free bird becometh ensnared ; 
 And this thy covetousness also, will, speedily, bring calamity on 
 thee. 
 
 The bitter words of rectitude and truth, will all be left by them. 
 Who sw^eeten their mouths with the confection of covetousness. 
 
 The colom- of their friendship will, speedily, be demolished. 
 When one friend hath any want requiring to be satisfied by 
 another. 
 
118 .KABD-UL-HAMlD. 
 
 This single droj) of water becometh a pearl within its breast, 
 \Vhen the oyster, towards the ocean, all covetousuess escheweth* 
 
 The difference between royalty and beggary, ceaseth, altogether, 
 "WTien the king satisfieth not the beggar's craving covetoiisness. 
 
 The stranger leave out ; for, verily, though it were father or mother, 
 God forbid, that any one should be under necessity to another ! 
 
 Pestilence is far preferable, HamId ! than that covetousuess, 
 Which, for the sake of the flesh's lusts, coveteth aught from others. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Be not captivated by the friendship of this world's people — 
 This shameless, this faithless, this barefaced world ! 
 
 Like unto dogs, that suarl and fight over a rotten carcass, 
 Tlius, in the world, its insolent people squabble and contend ! 
 
 They neither inquire about, nor cast a look upon each other — 
 Back to back, pass along the world's acquaintances and friends. 
 
 The peevish, ill-tempered, disagreeable ones, are left behind ; 
 Whilst ciiiel fate hath removed from us the sweet and charming ! 
 
 Thine eyes, indeed, will not be pleased with a single one of them, 
 Shouldst thou bend thy looks upon the people of this age ! 
 
 Since their hands are wholly withdrawn from what is right, 
 AMiercfore may not the world's folks be, in calamity, immersed I 
 
 Lying and duplicity have become sweeter to them than sugar ; 
 But like poison, the world's people have spitten out truth ! 
 
 * They fay, in tlie Ea.-^t, that pearls are formed by the oyster receiving 
 a single drop of rain-water in its shell. 
 
iKAliD-UL-HAMlD. 119 
 
 They Avill not leave thee, HamId ! in thy decency, and repute ; 
 Since the base and infamous have become tlie great ones of the age. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 I perceive in friendship together, the vile, deceitful world ; 
 By which means its people have forfeited the country of truth. 
 
 It appeareth unto me, merely poison mixed with sugar, 
 
 This, than honey or than sugar, more seemingly, loving world. 
 
 Be mindful never to sit in the assembly, at any time soever, 
 
 Of this, without hurt, and without detriment, woe-begone world ! 
 
 When is the brightness of any one's face agreeable or pleasing. 
 In the dark eyes, of the im to-justice-blear-eyed world? 
 
 Let it be an oblation on the altar of a single grain of modesty, 
 The hundred- weight-lascivious, wanton, shameless world ! 
 
 In reality, it is but a useless shell, without a Jvernel, 
 The present race of mankind in comparison to the past. 
 
 The hand, from toil blistered over, is, truly, Yaman* in itself; 
 Then why, in search of rubies, doth the scabby world wring its hands ? 
 
 From the vile and base, it behoveth well, the heart's secret to guard — 
 In the flower-garden, the foul and filthy world is not admitted. 
 
 What do the sound and healthy ken of HamId's heart's pangs 1 
 Only the afflicted know, the state of the suffering world ! 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Wlien my love for thy sweet face became noised abroad, 
 The love of Majnun and of Lailri,t became an empty jest. 
 
 * Yiiman — Arabia Felix, said to be famous for its rubies, 
 t See note, page 29. 
 
120 ih:ABD-UL-HA.ArlD. 
 
 That, which appalled, even Majiiun, within the tomb, 
 Such a gi'ievons calamity, unto me, hath love assigned. 
 
 Tho' his head, like the taper's, disappeareth at eveiy respiration ; 
 Still, no one should consider himself, from this love, exempt. 
 
 In the hands of the sorrow-stricken, it placeth harp and rebeck, 
 "WTien, in the court-yard, love seateth the bridal train. 
 
 Fire, kindled by way of jest, blazeth up in real earnest; 
 And love, made in sport, hath brought many unto tears. 
 
 The brokers of sense and reason, lose their occupation, entirely, 
 AVhen love, on its own account, beginneth to traffic and trade. 
 
 Like as by applying fire, one setteth diy straw in a blaze, 
 In the same manner, doth love, piety and austerity imto. 
 
 Doth any one, a false claim and a true, in one breath, prefer 1 
 How then shall sincere love, remain concealed one moment 1 
 
 He never again obtaineth a smile from the rosy-cheeked ones, 
 Though love caused HamId to weep, like unto the dew. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 If kings have a liking for the throne and the sceptre, 
 Lovers have a partiality for ruin and desolation. 
 
 There is no such injurious eftect, in the agony of love, 
 Tliat those afflicted with it, desire any cure. 
 
 Like Joseph, lie will descend into the well of grief, 
 \\\\i) hath a desire for the ascension unto glachiess. 
 
 My heart lialh now grown cold with regard to passion : 
 it h:ith u vcaruiuii- towards the waves and liill"\vs of woe 
 
iEABD-UL-HAMlD. 121 
 
 Wittingh', the prince of reason eugiilpheth himself, 
 Wlio hath a longing for the taxes of the country of love. 
 
 What compassion do the amorous eyes of the fail' possess, 
 "\\1ien they always have a desire for an occasion to slay ? 
 
 HajiId will, at all events, bear the Inu'den, notwithstanding ; 
 Since he noimshetli a fondness for thy capricious ways. 
 
 XL. 
 
 0, when are the soitows of love so easy to be borne, 
 Tliat they shall suffice for any one's food and raiment ! 
 
 Speak not unto me, monitor ! regarding modesty or shame : 
 From any apprehension of water, what have the naked to ch-ead ? 
 
 Love jilaced me as far from j^atieuce, as earth from heaven ; 
 And, unto the fimiament, no one's comprehension can reach. 
 
 Affection hath completely set free my heart from control : 
 With it, I am unable to exercise any power over patience. 
 
 Thro' the roofed building, the sun's rays penetrate not — 
 The heart, by one soitow rent and torn, is good indeed. 
 
 "\Mien will he find peace of mind, even seated on a throne, 
 Whose heart may be always pining after some fan- face 1 
 
 The association of the beloved, with a rival, is the same to me, 
 As though one shoidd, together, purity and impui'ity mix. 
 
 How shaU Hamid obtain any relief from the fair, 
 
 When, over him, power of life and death, God, to them, hath given 1 
 
] 22 ^ABD-UL-HAMlD. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Thoiigli tliou mayst speak with waniith or auger ; 
 Or, though thou mayst, to staff, or to bhidgeou take ; 
 
 With all this useless absurdity, blockhead ! 
 Thou wilt not be able to effect aught against fate. 
 
 That which was to happen to thee, hath come to pass, 
 WTiether the matter of a straw, or of a hundred thousand. 
 
 Save resignation, there is no remedy soever, 
 For this pain and trouble, beyond all doubt. 
 
 Whoever sayeth aught about that which hath occurred, 
 Nonsense talketh — he striketh at a fly, the water upon.* 
 
 Do not, O fool ! become, from a trifling of success, 
 Like unto the drum, for announcement inflated. 
 
 There will not be grief and sorrow upon man for ever. 
 Nor will there be mirth and gladness ever}' moment. 
 
 A pei-son may, sometimes, be gay and cheerful ; 
 
 At others, from care, he may be melancholy and distressed. 
 
 At times, standing, with intestines doubled iip ; 
 At others, gorged witli food, even up to the throat. 
 
 At times, he becometh a lion, appropriating the plain ; 
 At others again, he becometh the mere rat of a bmrow. 
 
 * There is a certain fly or beetle that .skims along the surface of tlu' 
 water, and i.s difHcult to strike ; lience the doing of any ab.surd or usele.-s 
 thing, i.'* like attempting to strike it. 
 
iEABD-UL-HAMlD. 123 
 
 Where is lamentation 1 where is the song of gladness 1 
 Where the plundered 1 where the Uzbak* that harried him? 
 
 Were the actions of fate, ever of one unifonn colour, 
 The firmament would not be thus spotted with stars. 
 
 The t}Tamay and injustice are not upon thee alone, 
 Of fortune's ever changing, inconstant revolutions. 
 
 In these troubles and vicissitudes, many other folks 
 Are thy companions, and are, hand in hand, with thee. 
 
 Ever unto distance remote, direct thou thy sight : 
 Even from the heavens, the earth-supporting-fish unto.t 
 
 There is a dart embedded in the heart of eveiy one. 
 Discharged therein by the ruthless hand of fate. 
 
 This fearful pestilence, indeed, hath reached 
 Every house, and every dwelling-place, unto. 
 
 It, however, behoveth, that in this net of calamity, 
 
 The prudent bird should be careful not to flutter. 
 
 • 
 
 Hamid's resignation hath to songs of gladness turned, 
 Through the tyranny and oppression of every dastard. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Every chieftain, who contemplateth the injury of his clan. 
 Should make the case of Jamal, J a mirror for himself 
 
 * The name of a tribe of Tartars, residing to the north of Balkh, noto- 
 rious robbers. 
 
 f From the pinnacle of heaven to the bottom of the uttermost abyss. 
 According to Muhammadan theories, the earth is supported by a fish. 
 
 X Jamal Khan, of the tribe of Mohmand and clan of Khudrzl, about 
 the year h. 1122 (a.d. 1711), during the governorship of iVasir Khiin, 
 
124 ^ABD-UL-HAMlD. 
 
 From beneath his own feet, he cuttetli away tlie branches, 
 "WTio nourisheth, in his heart, evil towards his friends. 
 
 That chieftain, in the end, shall abominable remain, 
 Wliose envy cxciteth him to the injury of his own kin. 
 
 He who coveteth the lives and goods of other people, 
 Ere his desire be fidfilled, shall lose liis own life and goods. 
 
 Indeed, he will himself f\all into it — such is the proverb — 
 "Who is guilty of the crime of digging a well for others. 
 
 Strife and bloodshed shall first arise in their dwellings, 
 \Vlio long to see others, in contention and slaughter engaged. 
 
 "WTioso may be powerless over his own hands and feet. 
 With what power against his foes, shall he contend ? 
 
 Subah-dar of Kabul, was raised to the chieftainship of his clan, during 
 which time he plundered and destroyed the village of .Esau, one of his 
 own tribe. About this time, the marriage of Jalrd, son of Jamal, was 
 about to be celebrated ; and the Subah-dar himself sent the sum of 
 two thousand rupees towards its expenses. ^Esau, however, bent upon 
 taking revenge, and Jamfd's clan being weak in proportion to his own, 
 he sent his spies to bring him intelligence when his enemy should be 
 occupied in his son's nuptial ceremonies, to fall upon him. On the night 
 of the marriage, therefore, he assembled his friends and clansmen, and 
 came upon Jamill's village. Jamal, though totally unprepared for such 
 an attack, came out to meet his enemies ; but having been badly wounded, 
 he had to seek shelter within the walls of his own dwelling. On this, 
 J'^sau set it on fire ; and Jamrd, with his son and family, and the parties 
 assembled at the celebration of the wedding, to the amoinit of ujiw'ards of 
 eighty men, women, and children, were consumed. According to the 
 Poet Kahman, Gul Khan was the only friend who stood by Jamiil on 
 this occasion, and was burnt to death along with the others ; thus proving 
 his friendship by the sacrifice of his life. -Esau was of the same tribe as 
 Ilamid himself; and the poem above seems to have been written in reply 
 to one by Haliman, who takes the part of Jamal, by way of defending 
 -Esau. 
 
^EABD-UL-HAMlD. 125 
 
 " By strangers' aid, without one's own, bravery cannot be sbo^\^l" — 
 This bowl raise Jamfil and Jab"d from tbc tomb. 
 
 Sbould tbe hawk pounce upon the quany of the falcon, 
 
 Tt cffecteth nothing, but tireth itself in bootless tugs and pulls. 
 
 Hundreds cannot take the victoiy from thousands ; 
 
 Save the All-Powerful should, speciall}^, the advantage decree. 
 
 Whoso advanceth his foot beyond his own bomids, 
 Destiny will trample him, like Jamal, under foot. 
 
 He, who, by force, decketh himself oiit, in others' garments. 
 Shall use them, all soiled and du-ty, to bandage his own wounds. 
 
 No one hath yet won over the good fortune of strangers to himself; 
 Moreover, by entertaining such ideas, he throweth his own away. 
 
 Every moth, that flieth about, upon this flambeau ; 
 Like unto Jamfd, will only consume itself thereon. 
 
 The base man, who is ambitious of acquiring reputation, 
 Plagueth himself to thread a needle l)y the lightning's flash. 
 
 A result such as this will, upon himself, retiu-n, 
 Whosoever, in requital of good, giveth evil back. 
 
 Neither goocbiess, nor virtue, is manifested by the base ; 
 Nor doth the sweetest water aff"ect the bitter fig.* 
 
 " If thou bringest up a wolfs whelp, it spriugeth upon thee" — 
 To our state, and that of Jamal's also, this saying applieth. 
 
 As Yazid was infemous, on accoimt of Hasan and Husain ; 
 So was Jamrd a disgrace unto us, were any one to ask. 
 
 * The name of an Indian tree {Ficus Indica. ) 
 
120 /-EABD-UL-n AMin. 
 
 That which hath happened, is from the saxae necessity, 
 As maketh the timid hare spring on the dog, to terrify it. 
 
 "VMmtever those unacquainted witli the case say, let them say : 
 The iufomied, however, take our plea into due consideration. 
 
 Other people will always get burnt* on their account, 
 Who abandon the sword's defence, for the shelter of walls. 
 
 Truly, the Almighty hath made the Khudrzia infamous by Jamiil : 
 Indeed, whatever happencth to mankind, their own acts bring about. 
 
 Since in traffic, profit and loss have, from the beginning, existed, 
 ^^^lorcfl)rc, upon the broker, do mankind thus cast ])lame? 
 
 These, Ha.mId ! are the customs and usages of the time, 
 
 That one showeth his grief at another's death : tlie other, his joy. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Until thou, against the belly, makcst a detciTnincd stand. 
 By mildness thou wilt not escape from the Ilzbak's hands.f 
 
 Neither doth a stone, forsooth, grow soft, nor an enemy, a friend ; 
 Tlien do not be beguiled, mean one ! into the belly's servitude. 
 
 It is not advisable to show ever so little kindness to the belly — 
 The pilfering hostess satisfieth herself by a snack from each dish. 
 
 How can there be a place therein for the remembmnce of thy God, 
 Wlien thy belly, with eatables, is constantly cn\mmed ? 
 
 If thy heart desire, that thy body should be resplendent, 
 
 Take example of the pinched-u)) belly, from the firmament, itself ^: 
 
 * Alluding to Gul Khrm ami otlifr.'^, nieiitionod in preceding note. 
 
 t See note at page 1-2:5. 
 
 J Refening to the Iiollowness of the heavens, as apparent to us. 
 
.EABD-UL-HAMID. 127 
 
 Cra^•e not, for thy belly, aught soever from fortune, 
 For it will merely give thee the new moon in thy bowl."' 
 
 From a slight blow, this tiu'ban will fall unto the ground, 
 AVhich, from pride, thou placest so jauntily, one side of thy head. 
 
 Consider the belly more contemptible than all else besides. 
 If thou desire the standard planted, on Heaven's pinnacle. 
 
 That thou shouldst show no affection towards the world's people. 
 Is, beyond all doubt, the safe and the peaceful side. 
 
 Tlu'o' this tliine own meekness and humility, HamId ! 
 Thou art dust in the eyes of the conceited and the proud. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Many, many times have I rent my gaiment before thee ; 
 Still thou hast not removed thy guardiansf from my path. 
 
 Save causing thee to upbraid, and set thy face against me, 
 Of no other use, to me, my offerings and oblations became. 
 
 The child playeth not thus with shards and with stones. 
 Like as I gamble away, upon thee, my religion, and my faith. 
 
 When to such a pitiless one as thou art, I gave up my heart, 
 I, certainly, tln-ust my own self into calamity's jaws. 
 
 There are none of constancy's or fidelity's wares therein ; 
 
 For the fan*, in their shops, baii:er naught but hollowness itself. 
 
 ^\^.len I come iipon the paraphernalia of the heart-ravishers, 
 The goods and chattels of my self-control become naught to me, 
 
 * Darweshes and Fakirs carry a bowl, in which thev receive alms. 
 I See second note at page 26. 
 
128 .t:abd-ul-hamIi). 
 
 Should I erect a hiinJred castles of patience round my heart, 
 I see no safety for myself, from the inroads of the foir-faced ones. 
 
 A thousand times uver, they will be thankful for their condition, 
 Should I narrate, imto the damned, the way my life passeth. 
 
 Shoiddst thou, HamTd ! come \mder the aspersion of love, 
 Account as profit, not yet acquired, this mulct of thine. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Tliy face hatli sliamed the rose, and thy tresses, the spikenard : 
 The nighting-ale forsaketh the parterre, and flieth imto thee. 
 
 From how long since, indeed, dost thou inflict, and I endure ? 
 Bravo unto thy tyranny, and unto this resignation of mine ! 
 
 My heart, thro' jealousy, becometh lacerated within my breast, 
 When the senseless comb nunietli its fingers thy ringlets thro'. 
 
 AMien smiling, thy rosy lips reveal their beauties. 
 
 Exactly like unto the rose-bud, when it unfoldcth its leaves. 
 
 The whole world, through injustice, had become desolate. 
 Had kings shown such arrogance and indiflference as thou ! 
 
 Though I observe a thousand fasts of patience and austerity ; 
 With a single glance towards me, thou subvertest them idl. 
 
 How long shall I diy thy tyranny's teai-s with my sleeve ? 
 Wherefore is the bridge not constructed on the watei"s of the flocxl ? 
 
 For with love, as with quicksilver, there is no repose, save in death !* 
 How long then am I to live, when 1 am in agitation ever? 
 
 * What cliemists term '* killinir raercury."' 
 
^EABD-UL-IIAMlD. 120 
 
 () HajiTd ! the fair maids of the Sarrabau* tribe have no o(|uals ; 
 Whether it is in Egypt, or in Kanajant — in Kabul or KashniTi-. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 A\lierefore cloth the possessor of beauty boast of loveliness ? 
 It will, of itself, become the pointed at, like the new moon. 
 
 Though one should call it a ruby a thousand times over, 
 
 The crowfoot's red berry,;}: therefrom, doth not to a rul)y turn. 
 
 Whoever aspireth after the beauty of the Scythian-like fair,§ 
 Like the ant, merely for his own destruction, acquireth wings. || 
 
 Just as the child jjlayeth and gamboleth w^th earth and mud ; 
 So sporteth the poor lover, with his property and his life. 
 
 Expel selfishness from thy heart, if thou wouldst love jjursuo ; 
 For without that deficiency, this perfection existeth not. 
 
 This doctrine of love is an ecstacy, from beginning to end ; 
 And for the utterance, even of a w'ord, there is no power here. 
 
 Is this a black mole upon the forehead of my beloved ? 
 
 Or is it Bilrd*"' arisen, the summons unto prayer to sound? 
 
 * The name of one of the two grand divisions of the Afghan ti'ibes, 
 inhabiting' the tracts about Peshawar, and to the north. 
 ■\ Canaan. 
 
 I A plant bearing" a red berr^y, the ranunculus or crowfoot. 
 
 § The Turks or Scythians have generally fine countenances and large 
 dark eyes, hence the Muhammadan poets make frequent use of the word 
 to express beautiful youth of both sexes. 
 
 II There is an insect called an ant by the A fgh ans, which, on its wings 
 appearing in the spring', conies forth and falls a prey to the birds. 
 
 '^ '' The name of the negro inu'azzain or crier, who announced unto the 
 people when Muhammad pi'ayed. 
 
 K 
 
130 yKABI)-UL-H.\MII). 
 
 Defend us from the ptitronage of the self-conceited, be he ever so 
 
 libenil : 
 The month gasping tliro' hunger, is good ; but not opened, to beg. 
 
 Envy not, possessor of riches, the poverty of HamId ! 
 
 This poor blanket, for that shawl, I will not exchange with thee ! 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 Thougli I adjure thee again and again, a thousand times, 
 Or give counsel inito thee, in a hundred different ways, 
 
 Neither my monitions, nor my entreaties touch tliee — 
 What calamity am I ? what abomination fixUen in the path ? 
 
 Tf these are not the maqjlot's coiuiscls, what then are they. 
 That my admonitions make no impression on thy ear? 
 
 Such joy as thou displayest in cnielly tortiuing me, 
 
 Such delight the nightingale showcth not, even for the rose. 
 
 In love, since I live on less than half of a dving breath, 
 Death is a hundred times preferal)le, to such existence as this. 
 
 Since they talk to me of patience, when separated from thee. 
 The admonishers chew, out of place, these cuds of monition. 
 
 Ask no proniisos of nie regarding the affaii-s of love ; 
 Else, why is it, that poison is not with relish swallowed I 
 
 As one, that from the sheath, half draweth a sword on ant^her, 
 In such wise, do thy white arms daunt and terrify me. 
 
 A nightingale, like H.VMin, there would not be among them. 
 Were not the Sarrabans " a garden, thro' their maidens fair. 
 
 * See tirst note at paLrc I-O. 
 
.EAnn-UL-HAjiTi). 131 
 
 XL VI 11. 
 
 ffow unseemly, how culi);il)ly, tliou pi'atest, addlc-hcad one! 
 Wherefore from the Ahuighty, askest thou not pardon for this. 
 
 Thou grievcst long enough about thy modesty and good name ; 
 But, in the affairs of the world, who more dastard than thou ? 
 
 Thou showest no concern ahout religion, though it should be 
 
 destroyed — • 
 Thou misguided — thou shameless — thou unworthy creature ! 
 
 Just as the child giveth pearls and jewels, in exchange for bread ; 
 In such wise playest thou, for the world, thy faith away. 
 
 What ! thou, who givest thy heart to the world, seekest grace ! 
 Thy life passeth bootlessly aw-ay, thou sifter of the wind ! 
 
 The foolish man yearneth after the goods of the world ; 
 And the baby capereth along, astritle the cane horse. '■■ 
 
 Nothing unlaw^ful, is a whit more pleasant than the lawful ; 
 But thy own sister and daughter are foul-nosed,t in thy sight. 
 
 Thou hast not, in the least, swept it with the broom of repentance — 
 The path of death, thou hast left, in the same thorny state as 
 before. 
 
 Since thou hast kept the field against men, good and brave, 
 Unto the smiting-sword of HamId's intellect be all praise ! 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Though thou canst manage to give it good food, and fine clothes ; 
 Still, thou wilt not be able to exempt the body from the fire of hell. 
 
 * Children in Afghruiistan ride ou a long reed for a horse, aa tliey do 
 in England upon a stick . 
 
 y That is to say, wlmt is foi'eign is good. 
 
] 32 .i:ABL)-LL-IlAMln. 
 
 Until thy body shall be decked out in the garments of piety, 
 Phimc not thyself on the mere adurumeut of the person. 
 
 These acts, which passion, to-day, promptcth thee to comniit, 
 I perceive in theui, for thee, death and destruction to-morrow. 
 
 Since by death, thou becomest like unto a putrid carcass, 
 Do not become, in life, like unto a musk-deer of Khutan.* 
 
 Fools, that they may gain the world thereby, their faith barter ; 
 But sucli like buying and selling as this, the wise practise not. 
 
 Save thee, by whom both grave and resurrection are forgotten. 
 Know, that every stranger seeketh his own countiy to reach. 
 
 Frf)m the goblet which is full, no sound proceedeth ever ; 
 But thro' deficiency and emptiness only, thy notoriety ariseth. 
 
 Since here thy sitting is among the wicked, and the unworthy ; 
 Flatter not thyself, that tliere, thou shalt, with tlie just, arise. 
 
 Unto thee, HamTd ! the wise and the prudent will give ear ; 
 Rut what know the ignorant, concerning thy stringing of pearls.t 
 
 L. 
 
 How many lions hath fortune made a spectacle of. 
 
 Into whose dens, both dogs and cats, now fearless enter ! 
 
 When destiny, in its own dire pitilessness, cometh. 
 It casteth down stones, upon the fm-nacc of glass. 
 
 Destiny maketh tliat liead a plaything for dogs, 
 Within whose domain, the lion darod not place his toot. 
 
 * A district of CIiine.><e Tartary, famous for it,-* \i\\xsk. 
 t The cuniposition of i)Offry is termed, stringing jieurls. 
 
yEABD-ul-hamIi). 133 
 
 111 the conflict with ftite, they fled for away, 
 Whom the world feared to enter into contest with. 
 
 The teeth, by which those iron-like pulse were masticated, 
 God knoweth what acids have rendered them tlms blunt. 
 
 By the tears of what unfortunate, was that fire quenched, 
 That, enwrapped in its flames, distant hills and dales 1 
 
 Like unto a scorpion, insignificant and contemptible dieth 
 
 That man, whose envenomed sting, maketh others weep and wail. 
 
 The skilled in lang\iage must have arranged the rhymes of HamId ; 
 Otherwise, no one would have entered them upon any page. 
 
 LI. 
 
 Since thou confessest mito ignorance, it proveth thy sense is good ; 
 But when thou boastest of thy wisdom, thou art then unwise. 
 
 When thy comprehension reacheth not unto thine own faults, 
 How then knowest thou aught about the shortcomings of others 1 
 
 If thou hast preserved thy heart from the deceits of the flesh. 
 Then mayest thou say unto it, verily thou art wise ! 
 
 Seeing that thou hast no conception of religion in thy heart, 
 Thou, foolishly, pleasest thyself — thou art but lip-wise. 
 
 But wherefore is not the thief of thine own abode seized by thee, 
 Wlien thou poiutest out others' stolen goods, and knowest the 
 robber too 1 
 
 First repair thine own ruined and dilapidated affairs, 
 If, in truth, thou knowest a plan for restoring them. 
 
 Since, heart-ravisher ! all my wishes, thou fulfillest. 
 
 How wonderfully well must thou, the heart of Hamid know ! 
 
184 j:aiji>-il-ii.\.mII). 
 
 LII. 
 
 AVhom love may make lighter, even than a feather, 
 
 Consider that ])erson heavier than tlie mo\nitain of Kuf.* 
 
 ^\^len, with tlie ashes of ahjectness, it shall becunie daubed. 
 The mirror of their hearts, shall clear, and bright l)ecome. 
 
 Though the fool may j)rate and vapour before the wise ; 
 The roasting grain will not, in the least, crack the pan. 
 
 With eyes that see, and ears that hear, thou showest thy malice : 
 Art thou not, unto the breath and footstep of the Messiah, blind ? 
 
 If a person shut not his eyes, ])ui'posely, on what is unlawful, 
 The stranger s shoes can be easily recognised iipon his feet. 
 
 Since HamTd strotcheth forth his hand to the chin of the beloved, 
 O ! would that the branch of the willow did a])j)les yield ! 
 
 hill. 
 
 Tlinu shouldst not tukc anii.ss, O beloved ! my gixziug uixm thee ; 
 Foi- tlie nightingales fly and flutter, continually, about the rose. 
 
 Any worthiness of association with thee, in myself, I see not ; 
 Hencd have the pupils of mine eyes, from looking, wholly ceased. 
 
 Those eyes of thine, at last, carried away my heart from me, 
 Xotwithstanding with endurance and patience I gnanled it. 
 
 Art thou aware of thy raids and onslaughts, or art thou not, 
 Seeing that thou hiust pillaged the alx)de of my resignation ? 
 
 * A fahulou.-j mountain, supjiosrd to suiTOund the world, and bound the 
 
 lunizDii. 
 
.EAB1)-UL-HA5JII). 185 
 
 The stones of i-csentnieut and hatred, rain down upon my head, 
 When I behold my rivals, arotmd the door of thy dwelling gathered. 
 
 Let Khizr"' be the gate-keeper of those gates, and those walls, 
 "Wlience thy eoming mid going — thy exit and entrance, may be. 
 
 When that smile of thine, in thy chin, a well-like dimple dug, 
 Then was it, that I perceived my owii falling helpless therein. 
 
 1 would, at that time, have concealed this dejection of mine, 
 Had I any idea, that from thee I should have comfort received. 
 
 Throughout the whole world there is quiet and tranquillity ; 
 But the Mughal t of son*ow for thee, hath, against HamId, risen. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Wliereas I discovered the science of the alchemy of love. 
 Therefore, this earthy form of mine hath sallow become. 
 
 ^\^len the fair, their spells and incantations commence, 
 They cast burthens upon the back of forbearance and control. 
 
 With prayers upon my lips, I fell in love in my heart — 
 Verily, the lion hath devoured me, whilst seated by the hearth. 
 
 It heareth not the w^ails of the nightingale in the parterre ; 
 For this reason the mountain partridge laugheth so loudly. 
 
 I have sunk down, to this degree, in the ocean of love, 
 
 That I remember not whether I am of the sea, or of the land. 
 
 So sore distressed am I, with dried up heart and humid eyes, 
 That Majnun seemed insignificant and contemptible to me. 
 
 * riee note at page 48. | Figuratively, a tyi-ant. iSee note at puge 'Jl. 
 
136" J^lABD-UL-HAMll). 
 
 The bitterness of separation will not pass down my throat, 
 Notwithstanding- I eat, along with it, the sugar of association. 
 
 Tears too, in the time of adversity, severed themselves from mc — 
 Alas, one's own, as well as strangers, are but prosperity's friends ! 
 
 How wonderfully gorgeous thou makest simple things, HajiId ! 
 May thy penetrating conceptions never come under the evil eye ! 
 
 LV. 
 
 When a superior entereth into contention with an inferior, 
 Tlu-ough folly, he exchangeth a shawl for a woollen blanket. 
 
 He who calleth another, the son of a dog, is, himself, a dog ; 
 For the son of a man affiliateth not another on a dog. 
 
 Than this, that at a dog thou shouldst fling a stone or a clod, 
 It is for better, that thou shouldst throw him a cake of bread. 
 
 Now, out upon such like name and indication. 
 That may set up for thee the staff of injmy and ill ! 
 
 The acts of youth cannot be practised in old age — 
 
 Therefore, old woman ! Avith gilded paper ornament not thy head."' 
 
 Every proceeding harmonizeth with its own proper season — 
 White hair suiteth not for side locks, nor for back ones either.t 
 
 Plodding about in the world, is of no advantage whatever — 
 Then what have I to do with the embraces of this old hagi 
 
 * Women in Afghnnistrm ornament their bair by sticking patches cif 
 gilt paper in it, on festive occasions in particular, if tbfv do not possess 
 ornaments more substantial, in the shape of golden ducats. 
 
 t The hair of young females is either plaited into numerous small 
 plaits, or divided into three large ones, one on each side of the head, and 
 the other han"in<r down the back. 
 
/EABD-UL-H AMiD. 137 
 
 Let not the inferior sit in the dwelling of the superior ! 
 Let not wool be vended at the market price of silk ! 
 
 Since, nnto such piu'e white admonitions, it giveth utterance, 
 God forbid that the tongaie of HamId shoidd falter ever ! 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Since thou art occupied in giving ear unto envy and covetousness, 
 Tho' thou shouldst the possessor of treasures become, a poor beggar 
 
 art thou. 
 Sovereignty and dominion shall follow thee, like a shadow, 
 If thou art content, like the Huma, upon diy bones to live.* 
 
 AMierefore then, cast away life and faith, for the sake of the belly 1 
 Why, why ! dost thou, broken-dowu-asses, upon roses graze 1 
 
 Like unto dogs, that circle round about the putrid carcass, 
 Thus thou, for protection, to worthy and unworthy payest court. 
 
 Thy human natiu'e will become that of the dog by this covetousness ; 
 Therefore, guard well thy integrity by patience, if thou art wise. 
 
 Greediness and envy will bring such calamities upon thee 
 
 As may never have befallen any one — so hereafter wilt thou say. 
 
 Safety from Hell's burning flames, cannot be effected by this. 
 That thou shouldst gay clothes don, eat delicacies, and extol thyself. 
 
 In this world, restrain thy violent passions by devotion and piety, 
 If thou entertain the desire of salvation, in the world to come. 
 
 Since in love, thou endurest such an amount of affliction, 
 Thou form of Hamid ! what a terrible calamity art thou ! 
 
 * The Huma is a fabulous bird of happy omen, peculiar to the East. 
 It exists on drj^ bones ; never alights ; and it is supposed that every head 
 it overshadows will, in time, wear a crown. See Attila, by the late 
 G. P. K. James, Chap. VI. 
 
138 JiA15I)-UL-HAMlD. 
 
 LVIT. 
 
 God forbid that the mouths of affliction be opened on any one ; 
 For these mouths, in airony, are the vcj-y mouths of dragons ! 
 
 That which, very speedily, levelleth the strong fortress with the plain, 
 Is either the evil mouths of cannon, or the mouths of enmity. 
 
 Tremble at the words from a single mouth of the oppressed, 
 Tho' a ihou.sand tongues may offer prayers for thy long life. 
 
 When the blast of the sigh of the woe-begone reacheth them, 
 It filleth, with ashes and dust, the mouths of flattery and deceit. 
 
 Whom the inflammation of deep-drawn sighs shall sti'ike, 
 The mouths of that person's wounds shall never, never close. 
 
 Have those folks made sweet witli words those speaking mouths, 
 AVhich, to cliarm, have tlie power of the mouth of the Messiah ? 
 
 When it recciveth the blow of tho injuries of the oppressed, 
 The soundest mouth is more useless made, than a hole in a wall. 
 
 (), where are those tongues, so enchanting and bewitching. 
 Which make the mouths of denial, in confession, to assent ! 
 
 Now, thou hast laid the hand of silence upon thy tongue, 
 Since thou, moutli ! didst feel tlic lilow of the fist of reply. 
 
 Tlie morning sliall not dawn u])on their niglit of sorrow. 
 Against whom, eveiy morning, mouths maledictit)ns utter. 
 
 HamTd hath thus torn to ])ieces the slanderous world, 
 
 Like the hungiy dogs, when they place their mouths to the game 
 
 l.VTTT. 
 
 Thou meltest me, every moment, in a hundred ways ; 
 But thou showcst not^ unto me, the tinge of attachment. 
 
j:AHl)-rL-lIA^I!!». 139 
 
 All improfitiibly, iluring the reign of tliy tyrannical be;iuty, 
 Anchorites bring under ciiltivation patience and austerity. 
 
 To the sight, become manifest, in eveiy WTinkle of thy brow, 
 The signs and portents of the torments of the judgment-day. 
 
 "Who, with thy sanguinary eyes, may contract acquaintance, 
 In their fomilies will be woe and misery for evermore. 
 
 Whereas, I go about searching every portal and gateway, 
 I seek the threshold of the door of thy dwelling to find. 
 
 How shall I bring myself before the sword of thy countenance. 
 When the mirror, itself, recoileth from the edge of it 1 
 
 Since, the "Night of Power" of thy curls became its portion,* 
 What night-watching is fallen to the good fortune of the comb ! 
 
 I, HamTd, twist and twine myself about, unavailingly, 
 
 Like unto a serpent on the treasiii'e of the faces of the fair.+ 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Although on thy sitting and rising thou mayest be hailed " Thy 
 
 sacrifice ;"^: 
 Yet, when thou sittest at another's door, thou sprawlest ou the 
 
 stake. 
 
 * Layliitu-l-kadr, or shab-i-kadr — the night of power — is the iTth of 
 the mouth Ramazan, and is greatly revered on many accounts, but more 
 particularly as being the niglit on which the Kur'an began to descend 
 from heaven. On its anniversary, all orthodox Muhammadans employ 
 themselves throughout the night in fervent prayer, imagining that ever}' 
 supplication to the Omnipotent, then put up, will be favourably received. 
 
 f Every buried treasure is supposed to be guarded by a serpent or a 
 drao-on. 
 
 I "I am thy sacriiice" — a respectful and endearing form of answer, 
 in use amongst the Afghans, Persians, and others. 
 
]4() /EAIJD-L'L-HAMlD. 
 
 Account not this lowliness huniiliiitiou ; for it is, truly, wealth. 
 That ujx>n thine own niat, poor and distressed, thou recliuest. 
 
 Out upon that rising, and that sitting, though it be upon a throne, 
 That ever sitteth down in enmity, and, in animosity, uri.seth ! 
 
 From the head of that viasnad* thou wilt contemptible arise, 
 yhouldst thou press, like a burden, on the heads of the poor. 
 
 By j)ity and sympathy, strive to gain the hearts of people, 
 
 If, like the taper, thou woiddst sit pre-eminent, all othei^s above. 
 
 "Wherefore dost thou not tremble at seeing the tears of the 
 
 oppressed 1 
 "WHiy sittest thou tranquil and undisturbed, on the face of the flood \ 
 
 Regard him not, who neither himself consumeth, nor bestoweth on 
 
 others. 
 That thus, like unto a scqicnt, upon a hidden treasure roclineth. 
 
 This world is neither the abode of stability, nor of peaceful repose ; 
 Yet still, foolishly, tiiou standest fast at the bridge's head. 
 
 The rul)y of honour and fume, HamTd ! tluui wilt ari|uiro, 
 
 If, in meekness, with the jRior and humble, thou sittest in the dust. 
 
 LX. 
 
 Like as thou art all poweriul over nic, so is thy guardian ; 
 For although he is the dog of thy door, he is the master vi me. 
 
 Though ho may do me a thousand injurio-s I will not return tliL'm — 
 l-'or thy .sake, civility towards hini, is exj)edient unto me. 
 
 * A carpet .nnd cu.-liion nt tlit- u]t]icr part nf a mom, ami accounted tlic 
 hoat of lioiiowr ; but it generally rel'er.s to the large cu>liion whieh kings sit 
 on ua a throne. 
 
^ABD-UL-HA^rlD. 1 4 1 
 
 Whatever wrongs thy heart desireth, heaj) them wpon my liead ; 
 Since every thing improper of thine, is meet and proper for me. 
 
 Though thy coldness drew out the very breath from my body, 
 "What matter, since soHcitudc for thy love, is a substitute for it 1 
 
 At the yearnings of this maddened heart, I am confounded ; 
 For I know not, in the least, what thing it desireth from thee. 
 
 Even in association, it weepcth on account of separation — 
 
 AVhat wonderful dignity hath it been the heart's fortune to acquire ! 
 
 Now, taking thy love into account ; again, considering its tyranny ; 
 At one breath the heart is impetuous, and at another it is repentant. 
 
 May the Almighty keej) the thoughts of thee, ever present in my 
 
 breast ! 
 Then what mattereth it, whether thy face may present, or absent be 1 
 
 Though HamId, from the beloved, desireth the hand of society ; 
 Yet what poor beggar hath a patent of nobility acquired ? 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 Khushhal Khan', the renowned chieftain of the powerful Afghan 
 tribe of Khiittak — alike a warrior and a poet — was born in the' 
 year 1022 of the Hijrah (a.d. 1G13). Shrih-baz Khan, his father, 
 havhig received a wound in a l)attlc with the YusufzTs — one of the 
 most numerous and powerful of all the Afghan tribes — from the 
 effects of which he shortly after died, Khnshhrd, who had also 
 been severely wounded in the head and knee, in the same 
 battle, in the year n. lOoO (a.ix 1(340), with the mianunous 
 consent and ai)probation of his relations and friends, became 
 chief of his tribe. His father's fief was confirmed to him by the 
 Mughal Emperor, Shah Jahan, together with the charge of pro- 
 tecting the royal road from Attak, on the Indus, to Pesliriwar ; and 
 other duties were entrusted to him In' that sovereign, in whose 
 estimation Khushhal stood high. He accompanied Sultan Murful 
 Baksh, the son of that monarch, on his expedition to Badakhshfui 
 in 1()45, and was also engaged in other wai-s of that period. 
 
 On the death of Shfdi Jahan, Khnshhrd continued to sen-e his 
 son and successor, Aurangzeb, in the same capacity as formerly ; 
 but after some time, tlirougli the machinations of his enemies, 
 among whom was Amir Khan, Subali tlar, or governor of the 
 province of Kabul, he fell under the displeasure, or rather 
 suspicion of the monarch, and was sent jn-isoner to the strong hill 
 fortress of (Jwalior, in Upi)er India, where he remained in captivity 
 about seven yeais ; and tliere it was that many of the following 
 poems we:v wiittcn. At length, at the reciMumendation of 
 Muhalil>.it KJifin, thf sci-un 1 of that nnuie, Ani-angzeb released 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 1 4o 
 
 Khushhal, and sent him, aloni;- with the noble juist referred to — who 
 had been hitely appointed Siibah-ilar of Kfibul — for the pui'posc of 
 settUng the affairs of the Pesliawar district, which had fallen into 
 a very distracted state. But the iron had entered the soul of 
 Khushhal, and on reaching his native coimtry, he kept as retired 
 as possible ; ceased to hold any intercourse with the gov^eruor of 
 the province, and other subordinate officers ; and declined rendering 
 any assistance to the troops of the Emperor. 
 
 Khushhrd's tribe had been long at feud with many of the other 
 Afghans around Pesliruvar, amongst w^hom were the Yiisufzis — 
 fighting against whom, as before mentioned, his father lost his life — 
 and was generally engaged in hostilities with one or other of them ; 
 but with the Afrldls, who were also powerful, the Khattaks main- 
 tained a close alliance. Matters, at length, went so f;xr between 
 the Khattak chieftain and the Mughal authorities, as to produce 
 an open ruptm-e. Khushhal now gu-ded his loins with the sword 
 of courage ; and in concert wdth Ae-mal Khan, and Dar-ya Khan, 
 chiefs of the Afridis, carried on, for seven or eight years, a deter- 
 mined and destructive war with the Mughals, in which the latter 
 were generally defeated. 
 
 Tlie whole of the Afghan tribes from Banu to Jalalabad, seeing 
 the success of their countrymen over the hated Mu gh als, had been 
 drawn, by degrees, into the confederacy, which now aimed at no less 
 than the total expulsion of the Mughals from Afghanistan. But 
 the Yusufzis, who could have aided so effectually, held aloof; 
 and would render no assistance to their countrymen, thi'ough 
 enmity to the Khattaks, notwithstanding that Khushhal went hi 
 person, even as far as the Suwat valley, to endeavoiu* to instil into 
 them some of his own and his confederates' patriotic spirit, but 
 without effect — they were deaf to the voice of the charmer. These 
 events he refers to, in the first of the folI(.)wing poems, written on 
 that occasion. 
 
144 KHUSIIHAL KUAN, KIIATTAK. 
 
 Affairs at PesTiawar had assumed such a serious aspect, that 
 Aurangzeb considered it necessar}' to ajipear in pei-son on the scene ; 
 and for about two years lie remained encamped at Attak, superin- 
 tending the prosecution of the war ; au'l that wily monarch, finding 
 force unavailable in such a difficult country, began to try the effect 
 of gold. In this he met with the success he desired ; and some of 
 the petty clans of the confederacy became fascinated with the gold 
 of tlie Mughals, and submitted to the government ; whilst othci-s 
 of Khushhal's friends began either to desert him, or to give him 
 cause to doubt their sincei'ity ; and Ae-mal Khan and Dai--ya Khan, 
 his most powerful, and most trusty supporters, having previously 
 been removed, by death, from the scene, such an effect was produced 
 upon the fine spirit of Khushhrd — as the following pages testify — 
 that he became disgusted, and sought to find peace in retirement. 
 
 At length, he resigned the chieftainship of the Khattak tribe, in 
 favour of his eldest son Ashraf, and devoteil Iwmself to books and 
 literature. On Ashrafs becoming chief of the clan, Bahram, another 
 son, who appeai-s to have been alwaj's regarded with avereion by his 
 father for his degenerate acts, succeeded i<i gaining over a con- 
 siderable party to his side, and appcixred bent upon bringing mis- 
 fortune upon his bx-othcr. They met in battle several times ; and on 
 one occasion, Bahrum was taken prisoner, but succeeded, by his 
 artfulness and duplicity, in exciting the pity of his injured brother, 
 who «et liim at liberty. Khushh.il, well aware of the disposition 
 of Bahrum, was highly incensed with Ashraf for allowing him to 
 escape so easily, and, as it tunicd out, not without reason ; for no 
 sooner was Bahram free, tlian he again commenced his intrigues 
 against Ashi'af ; and at length, in tlie year n. 1093 (a.d. 1G81), he 
 succeeded in betmying him into the hands of the Mughals. 
 Aurangzeb sent him ])risoner to the strong fortress of Bcjrii>rir, in 
 Southern India, where, after lingering in captivity for about ton 
 years, he died. A further acommt of this luifortunate chieftain, will 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 145 
 
 be found prefixed to his poems ; for, like other sons of Khushhal, 
 as well as numbers of hia descendants, he was a poet as well as 
 his father. 
 
 Af*zal Khan, the yomig son of Ashraf, now took up arms in his 
 fiither's cause, and was installed in the chieftainship by his grand- 
 father, who was still regarded as their natural and rightful chief, 
 by the majority of the tril:>e ; but the youth and inexperience of 
 Afzal — for he was only seventeen years of age — could not yet cope 
 with tlie wily Bahram, who was also aided and upheld by the 
 Mughals. Khixshhal, therefore, taking Afzal's youth into con- 
 sideration, and in oi'der to prevent his clansmen from shedding the 
 blood of each other, interfered between the contending parties, 
 fearing that the tribe might hesitate to obey one of such inexpe- 
 rience, and allowed Bakram to enjoy the chieftainship, advising 
 Afzal to bide his time, and not lengthen his fiither's captivity by 
 opposition for the present. Afzal, therefore, retired with his family 
 into the friendly country of the Afridis. 
 
 Not content with this success in all his schemes, Bahram would 
 not allow his aged father to end his days in peace. Several times 
 he made attempts upon his life. He once despatched his son 
 MukaiTam Khan, with a body of troops, to endeavour to sec\u-e the 
 old man's person. Mukarram went, as directed, against his grand- 
 fother ; but the brave old chieftain, who had attained his 77th 
 year, having discovered the party from the place of his retreat, 
 advanced to meet them with his drawn swoi-d in his hand, at the 
 same time — to quote the words of Afzal Khan, his grandson, already 
 alluded to, who subsequently wrote a history of these events — ex- 
 claiming, " Whoever ai-e men amongst you, come to the sword, if 
 you dare ; but veneration for the aged chieftain was so predominant 
 in every one's breast, that no one would make any attempt to lay 
 hands on him ;" and Mukarram, ashamed, returned as he went. 
 Bahram, his father, enraged at his son's failure, ordered him to 
 
 L 
 
146 KHLSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 return, with directions to kill Khushhul with his own hand, if he 
 should refuse to deliver himself np. On Mukarram's return, to 
 cany out this inhuman order of a degenerate son, the old chief 
 again advanced from his jilace of shelter, and taking his stand upon 
 the crest of the hill, witli his good sword in his hand, again dared 
 them to approach ; and in this manner is baid to have remained on 
 the watch for sevend days. But no one amongst the paity had 
 either the inclination or the courage to face him, whom they still 
 regarded as their natural chief. 
 
 Bahram, however, thinking the prey in his toils, had despatched 
 a message to the Mughal governor at Pes^hawar, to the effect that 
 the old lion was at length at hay ; and requested him to send a 
 sufficient escort to take charge of him, and conduct him to 
 Tos^hawar. Khushhal, however, having heen warned, as soon as 
 night set in, made his escape, after two of Bahram's i>arty hail lost 
 their lives, and hy the next moniing succeeded in reaching the 
 boundary of the Afrldl tribe — who had always been his friends — 
 a distance of 90 miles from Akorrah, the scene of the occuirences 
 just related. 
 
 Khushhrd took up his residence in the Afrldl coimtry, and 
 returned no more to the home of his fathers, which he loved so 
 well. He died as he had lived, free, among the mountains of his 
 native land, in the 78th year of his age. Before taking his de- 
 parture from a world, in which he had drunk so deeply of the bitter 
 cup of treachery and unfaithfulness, he j)articularly charged those 
 few of his children and friends, who had remained faithful to him 
 through all his trials and misfortunes, that they should bury him 
 where — to use his own words — "the dust of the hoofs of the 
 Mughal cavalry might not light upon his gi-ave ;" and that "they 
 should carefully conceal his last resting-place, lest the Mughals 
 might seek it out, and insidt the ashes of him, at whose name, 
 whilst in life, tliey (piailcil ; and Iw whosi' swoi-d, and tiiat of his 
 
 '^S 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 147 
 
 clansmen, their best troops had been scattered like chaff before the 
 gale." A third request was, that in case any of his faithfid children 
 shoiild succeed, at any time, in laying hands upon Bahram the 
 Malignant, they should divide his 4)ody into two parts, and 
 shoiUd burn one half at the head of his grave, and the other at the 
 foot. He was buried, accordingly, at a place uiimed I-surraey, a 
 small hamlet in the Khattak mountains, where his tomb may still 
 be seen ; and, according to his dying recjuest, his last resting-place 
 was kept concealed, till all danger of insult from the Mughals had 
 passed away. 
 
 Khushhrd Khan was the father of fifty-seven sons, besides several 
 daughters ; but, with the exception of fom- or five of the foniier, 
 they do not appear to have been particularly worthy of their 
 parent's affection. 
 
 Khushhal, from all accoimts, was a voluminous author, and is 
 said to have composed about three hundred and fifty different 
 works. Tliis, however, must be greatly exaggerated ; nevertheless, 
 he is the author of numerous works, which I have myself seen, 
 both in Persian, and in the Pus'hto. or Afghan, consisting of Poetry, 
 Medicine, Ethics, Religious Jurisprudence, Philosoph}^, Falconry, 
 etc., together with an account of the events of his own chequered 
 life. It is greatly to be regretted, how^ever, that his descendants, 
 after his death, had not the opportunity to collect all his writings 
 together ; and the upshot is, that many are known only by name. 
 Amongst those which have thus been lost or dispersed is, I fear, 
 the autobiogra})hy I have referred to. 
 
 Some of Khushhal' s poetical effusions, written during his exile in 
 India, and whilst struggling against the power of Aiu-angzeb, will, 
 I think, be considered highly of, even in the form of a literal trans- 
 lation, and in an English dress, as coming from the pen of an 
 xVfghan chief, cotemporary with the times of our Charles I., 
 evincing, as they do, a spirit of patriotism, and love of home and 
 
 L 2 
 
148 KHUSHHAL KHAN. KHATTAK. 
 
 country, not iisual in the Oriental heart, but such as we might 
 look for in the Scottish Highlander, or Swiss mountaineer, of 
 In-gone days, whom the lianly Afghans strongly resemble. A more 
 extended account of Kluishhrirs writings, and those of his de- 
 scendants, will be found in the Introductorj' Chapter to my Af gh an 
 Grannnar, pul)lished last year, together with an account of the 
 Afghans and their literature. 
 
 Up to the time of Khushhal's chieftainshij), the bounds of the 
 Khattak country were not well defined ; that is to say, each family 
 of the tribe had no fixed lands allotted to them. Khushhrd caused 
 a suTA'ey to be made of all available land ; fixed the boimdaries ; 
 entered them in a register ; and, according to the niunber of each 
 man's family, assigned a con-esponding quantity of land for culti- 
 vation. This an-angenient is still in force, and hitherto has not, 
 that I am aware of, been deviated from ; and many small towers 
 of stone, erected to mark the different boundaries, still remain. 
 
THE POEMS 
 
 KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 AN ODE TO SPRING. 
 
 From whence liatli the spring again returned luito us, 
 Whieli luith made the country round a garden of flowers 1 
 
 There are the anemone and sweet basil,' the lily and thyme ; 
 
 The jasmine and white rose, the narcissus and pomegi'anate blossom. 
 
 The wild flowers of spring are manifold, and of every hue ; 
 But the dark-red tulip, above them all, predominateth. 
 
 The maidens place nosegays of flowers in their bosoms ; 
 The youths, too, fasten bouquets of them in their tui"bans. 
 
 Come now, musician ! apply the bow to thy violin : 
 Bring out the tone and tlie melody of every string ! 
 
 And thou, cupbearer ! bring us full and overflowing cups. 
 That I may become fraught with wine's inebriety ! 
 
 The Afghan yoiiths have again dyed red their hands. 
 
 Like as the falcon dyeth his talons in the blood of the quarry. 
 
 Tliey have made rosy their bright swords with gore : 
 
 Tlic tulip-bed hath blossomed, even in the heat of siunmer. 
 
150 KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 Ae-mal Khan and Dar-ya Khan — from dcatli preserve them !* 
 Were neither of them, at fault, wlien opportunity occurred. 
 
 They dyed red the valley of Khaihar. with the blood of the foe : 
 On K:in-ajiah,+ too, they poured forth war's din and tumult. 
 
 From Karrapah, even unto Bajawrr,J both plain and moimtain, 
 Time after time, as fi-om an earthquake, c|uaked and shook. 
 
 It is now the fifth year, since in this neiirhlnmrhood, 
 Eveiy day heareth the clashing of glittering swords. 
 
 Since I arrived in this part,§ I have become a nonentity — 
 Either I am despicable, or this people are infamous gi-o\ni. 
 
 I cry out TUito them, "Troo])S, troops," until I am weary ; 
 But deaf to all, they neither say "Die," nor "Thy sacrifice."|| 
 
 When the state of the Yusufzis became known unto me, 
 Lowaghar was then my better place, not Damghar. 
 
 The dogs of the Khattaks arc far better than the YusiifzTs, 
 Though, in disjiosition, the Khattaks are more worthless tlian dogs. 
 
 The whole of the other Afghans, from Kandahfir unto Attixk, 
 In lionom"'s cause, both secretly and openly, are one. 
 
 See how many battles have been fought on all sides ; 
 
 Yet still, amongst the Yusufzis, there is no sense of shame. 
 
 * These are the Afridi chiefs, who aided Khushhal in his wars with 
 AuraniT'/.pl). 
 
 t The name of a Pas.** leading from IVshawar to .lalfiliilmd. 
 
 I A .'<mall State, held hy independent Affihan tril)es, N.W. of Peshawar. 
 
 I lie liad gone into the Yusufzi coinitry, to endeavour to persuade that 
 tribe to assist the confederates. 
 
 II See note at page 139. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 151 
 
 The fii'st fight was at the higher back of Mount Tatarah,* 
 Where forty thousand Mughals were scattered like chatT. 
 
 Wlien their sisters and daughters fell into the bonds of the Afghans, 
 With horses and camels, elephants and baggage, string after string. 
 
 The second battle was with Mir Husain in the Doabah,t 
 Wlien his head was crushed, like that of a venemous snake. 
 
 After that again, was the affair at the fort of Nohs'hairah,|. 
 \Mien from the Mughals I extmcted my own inebriation. 
 
 And then came Jaswant Singh and Shujaasat Khan, 
 
 Of whom, Ae-mal Khan plucked up the roots at Gandab, 
 
 The sixth was over MukaiTam Khan and Shamsher Khan, 
 Both of whom, at Khapash, Ae-mal scattered to the winds. 
 
 These are the greatest triumphs that I hold in recollection ; 
 But the lesser ones, in all directions, who shall compute 1 
 
 Up to the present time, victory hath been always with us ; 
 And for the future, upon God, is our dependence placed. 
 
 A year hath passed since Aurangzeb is encamped against us, 
 Disordered and perplexed in appearance, and wounded in heart. 
 
 It is now year after year, that his nobles fall in battle ; 
 But his armies swept away, who shall number them ! 
 
 The treasiu'es of India have been spread out before us : 
 The red gold miihui's have been engulphed in the hills. 
 
 * The lofty mountain to the right of the Khaibar Pass, looking- from 
 Peshawar, and giving name to another Pass, leading- to Jalalabad. 
 
 ■f A parganah or division of the Peshawar district, lying, as its name 
 implies, between two rivers, the Landdaey and the Kabul. 
 
 I A town of the Peshawar district, on the northern bank of the Kabul 
 river. 
 
152 KHrSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 It W(julil not have entered one's head in eighteen guesses, 
 That such events would e'er have happened in these parts. 
 
 Still Aumngzeb'a malevolence hath not a whit diminished, 
 Thoiiirh the curses of his father it heft^re drew down.* 
 
 For this reasDU, also, no one can place dependence on him : 
 He is malignant and pei'fidious ; a breaker of his word. 
 
 For this state of things, no other tennination can be seen, 
 Than that the Mnghals be annihilated, or the Afghans undone. 
 
 If this, which is beheld, I)C the revolutions of destiny — 
 If in this be the will of the Almighty, the time is come. 
 
 Fate revolveth not in the same fashion at all times — 
 
 Now 't is propitious to the rose ; now favourable to the thorn. 
 
 At a period so pregnant with honour and glory, as the jjresent, 
 In what manner do these V)ase and recreant Afghans act ?+ 
 
 There is no deliverance in any thing, save the swoixl : 
 Afghans, who nourish any other idea than thi.s, are lost, indeed. 
 
 The Afghans are far superior to the Miighals at the sword, 
 Were but the Afghans, in intellect, a little discreet. 
 
 If tilt' different tribes would but support each other, 
 Kings wou]<l liave to bow di>wn in prostitution before them. 
 
 But whether it be concord or strife, or folly or wisdom, 
 The affaii-s of every one are in the hands of the Almighty. 
 
 * AuraniT/cb dethroned liis father Shah Jah.'ui. wlioui lie confined in 
 prison until lii.s death, which took place .seven years after. 
 f The Yiisufzls wlio would not aid. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN. KHATTAK. 153 
 
 Let us see wliat the AfrldTs, Mohiiiands, and Shluwaiis will do ; 
 For the Mughals are now lying encamped at Naugrahai'." 
 
 I alone, amongst the A fgh ans, grieve for our honour and renown ; 
 "Wliilst the Yusufzis, at their ease, are tilling their fields. 
 
 They who now act so dishonourably, and so shamelessly, 
 Will, hereafter, the upshot of their own acts perceive. 
 
 In my poor judgment, death is more preferable than life, 
 When existence can no longer, with honour, be enjoyed. 
 
 In this world, he will not always remain with life ; 
 But the memory of Khushhal will long, long endure ! 
 
 It was the first of the Third Sister,t in the year of Ghafu,| 
 That I, whilst at Bannawul, indited these lines. 
 
 II. 
 
 WTiat wonderfully delicious wine is this, 
 ^Vllich the cupbearer, with welcome, presents ! 
 
 The laughing of the bud in the parteiTe were impossible, 
 Did not the zephyr, eveiy morning, over it pass. 
 
 Its counsel regarding the nightingale was this, 
 Tliat the morn should the rosebud's garment rend.§ 
 
 * A small district of Af gh anistan, of which Jalalabad, famous for its 
 defence by Sir Eobert Sale, is the chief town. 
 
 t The fifth month of the Afghrm vear, so called. 
 
 \ According- to the Ahjad system of the Arabs and other Muhammadans, 
 of computing- numbers by letters, the word^^c ( gh afu) is equivalent to the 
 3'ear h. 1086 (a.d. 1675.) 
 
 § Cause the bud to open its leaves. 
 
154 KHL'SHHAL KHAX, KHATTAK. 
 
 Appreciate thou the vahie of Philomel, rose, 
 Although thou bloomest in this thy beauty now I 
 
 Since his cure dependeth upon the object of his hc.irt, 
 Of the Invor's disease, what do physicians know ? 
 
 Save the beloved-one's beaming countenance, imagine not 
 That KnusHHAL will be, with any other face, content. 
 
 III. 
 
 Sjjring hath returned : the narcissus in the garden wantoncth, 
 And the breeze of the morning, the spikenard disordereth. 
 
 Foi- five short days, tlie rose of the parterre will bloom ; 
 But on the sixth, it scattereth its existence to the winds. 
 
 Tlic enamom-ed nightingale layetii its head at the rose's feet. 
 As the Brrduuan bendeth, in adoration, his idol liefore. 
 
 Acquire thou humility from the example of the cypress. 
 That with such loftiness, showeth this much lowliness. 
 
 Tlie K.MiL.\i{RXAiOY* hath quaffed no other wine whatever — 
 The whole of this inebriety j[)roceedeth from creation's cuj).t 
 
 IV. 
 
 My beloved is offended : would there were any one who wuuld 
 
 conciliate her ! 
 .\i-ise (luiekly, O ine<liator ! for my heart is grieved on her account. 
 
 * One of till' three great divisions into wliich the whole Afghan nation 
 is dividt'd, ami in which the Khattak trilie is included. 
 
 f See the Introductory Chajiter, page xix., on the word " Alvsto." 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 155 
 
 He will be constantly phniuing into the deep seas of injustice, 
 Who rendereth up his heart luito the lieart-ravishers of these days. 
 
 What a vile world it is ! what are its cxistoms ! what its ways ! 
 It abandoneth, altogether, the starving, and giveth invitation to 
 the cloyed ! 
 
 Punished they cannot be ; but would I could lay hands, as I wish, 
 
 on them ; 
 For 't is those sable locks of thine, that are ever of hearts making 
 
 theft. 
 
 The tyranny of thy dark tresses is by no means hidden from view — ■ 
 The impassioned-one, who may be powerful, soon her tyi-anny 
 displayeth. 
 
 Thou that givest thyself unto the tender passion, accept in love 
 The taiuits and reproaches, that the world, upon lovers, ever cast. 
 
 Thy blood-thirsty locks have not made me, only, desolate ; 
 
 And many more, like unto me, forlorn, will they, even yet, destroy. 
 
 AVouldst thou, this one so arrogant of her beauty see, di'aw near ! 
 Alas ! towards Khushhal, her coquetr}" she openly displayeth. 
 
 V. 
 
 j "NVhcrefore doth Aurangzeb his throne and crown adorn ? 
 For death will assail, and lay waste the both of them. 
 
 His evil name only will remain behind iu the world ; 
 Knowing, as he doth, whether he as Kasra, or as Hujaj acteth.* 
 
 * Kasra, or Cyrus, King of Persia, is the model of a just king ; and 
 Hujnj bin Yusuf, Governor of Khurasan, under the Khalifah, yEabd-ul- 
 Malik, the conception of a perfect tyrant. 
 
156 KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 O'erwhelmc'd in j,Tief, I know jiot of festival or feast, 
 Tlioujjh the whole people of Dilhl make gladness aud joy. 
 
 All the water went to the eyes, and the heart's fire blazed out — 
 Alas, how can any one, in such a state of nxind as tliis exist I 
 
 They turn jwde when they lay finger upon my pulse ; 
 Then, by what means, can the physicians, my disorder ciu-e ] 
 
 Separation lacerateth my heart in the same manner, 
 As the falcon rendcth the partrid;_''e and the ijuail. 
 
 ^\'hen two friends may be separated by a distant land, 
 How desirous iJod makcth them of a mere siUutatiou ! 
 
 My teare ai-e produced tlu-ough the emotions of the heart, 
 Like as fire expelleth the moisture from the roasting meat. 
 
 Alas, every arrow that is discharged from fatality's bow, 
 Destiny makcth j>oor Khushhai/.s heart the butt of! 
 
 VI. 
 
 Thou wast saying, " (Jricve not any more ; for 1 am thine, and thou 
 
 art mine ;" 
 Whether tlmu hast falsely or truly spoken, thou hast, indeed, 
 
 given mo life again. 
 
 What a lovely calamity tliou art I a chaniier, incomparable, art 
 
 thou ! 
 Would that tlioiv were not this defect, that thou hadst not such a 
 
 cruel heart I 
 
 Should the whole uuivci-sc, in every direction, be with the lovely 
 
 tilh-.l ; 
 lOvcn then, it would lie astonishing, if one were found beautiful like 
 
 thee. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN. KHATTAK. 157 
 
 With so many victims slain, even yet thou showest no ^)ity or 
 
 regret : 
 But what matter, though the executioner shed blood a hundred 
 
 times over 1 
 
 Since out of thy garden, or tliy parterre, I beg for a rose from thee, 
 Shouldst thou but a straw on me bestow, yet I, as a rose, receive it. 
 
 As long as T may exist, I am, indeed, tlie captive of those ringlets, 
 In every hair of which, hundreds of hearts will ever be enthralled. 
 
 Whether old, or whether young, all are distracted about thee : 
 Tiiere is not a person in the town, that is not enamoured of thee. 
 
 The cypress-tree behold ! it very soon ceaseth to be looked upon, 
 When thou, with this stature and figure, through the garden 
 trippest. 
 
 The prospect of Heaven to come, is bliss to both monk and priest ; 
 But Khushhal hath gained Paradise, at once, in meeting thee. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Again the minstrel's rebeck touchetli the heart profoimdly ; 
 For it disco vereth new and fresh strains of melodious harmony. 
 
 Leave the monk in the monastery's nook ! I will to the garden ; 
 For the flowers of spring instruct me in righteousness' ways. 
 
 Beggars have much anxiety about filling their bellies ; 
 
 And kings should be solicitous regarding dominion and realm. 
 
 If this be not the eftect of my good fortune, what is it then. 
 That against the guardian she crieth out to this degree 1 
 
 How much more will be the extent of the love of her constancy. 
 When, in injustice and inconstancy, such fixvour she bestoweth ? 
 
158 KjHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 Witliiii this city, the jiiice of the grape is thus so openly sold ; 
 Because the censor, himself, fiivoureth the bihhei-s of wine. 
 
 From thy coldness to mc, I pr»'ow both joyful and melancholy, 
 Like unto one that ;;iveth thanks to, and yet complaineth of another. 
 
 If to love to look upon the iiretty creatures be aught of sinfulness. 
 Then Khushhal committeth iniquity, all his life long. 
 
 VITI. 
 
 AVhen towards his father a son acteth pei-fidiously, 
 After what manner, to othere, will he sincerity show ? 
 
 See, what further pei-fidy must be within his heart, 
 When the hypocrite maketh avowal of his own misdeeds. 
 
 Neither will I pardon the enoiinities of the degenerate, 
 N'nr will the Almighty forgive tlie fallen angel his sins. 
 
 All these minor hills are as nothing : desii'ous am 1, 
 That my God, betwixt us, would place even Kaf * itself. 
 
 The conduct of his own sou is best known to his father; 
 Then why will people commend the degenerate unto me ( 
 
 Neither can any liar utter falsehoods like him. 
 Nor can any one equal him in cunning and deceit. 
 
 Tiiore are liotli a thousjind varieties of vain lies in his heart, 
 .\iid a thousand vaunts of morality upon his tongue. 
 
 That I cherishetl, and brought up .such an undutiful st>n, 
 It was, alas ! for this, that he should, against me, rise up! 
 
 * The fubuluu.<« niuuntain, the boundary of thf world, aiul surrounding 
 tlie horizon on all siilcs. 
 
KHUSHHAL lOjAN, KHATTAK. 1;)9 
 
 Let nic not, indeed, cast eyes npon him whilst I hve ; 
 And after death, let him not dare my grave to approach. 
 
 Sorrow and grief shall, whilst living, leave his heart, 
 If fate, unto Khushhal, shall due justice grant. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Every sick person that is impatient with his physician, 
 Bringeth, if thou but consider, affliction upon himself. 
 
 The fish existeth in the river ; but should it come out thereof. 
 Can it be comfortable, or at ease, upon the dry land 1 
 
 Though the bat hideth himself from the light of the sun. 
 In what manner doth the sun sustain injury therefrom? 
 
 'T is the natm'e of dogs to howl at the sight of the moon ; 
 And thus, by their yelping, bring disgrace on themselves. 
 
 The dung-beetle is distressed by the flower's perfume ; 
 Because its existence is sustained by offensiveness. 
 
 That the prophets are evil in the sight of the infidel, 
 Is, because whatever they do, is with the Devil's advice. 
 
 Unfortunate, indeed, is he, who acteth on his enemy's counsel : 
 Can an opponent and an enemy ever give good advice 1 
 
 The heron, on the river's bank, is with thirst parched ; 
 
 For eveiy penurious creature followeth his own avaricious ways. 
 
 With the precepts of the Kur'an, Friruk is acquainted : 
 
 It pointeth not out the right path to Bu-Lhab, or to Bu-Jhal." 
 
 *■' Bu-Lhab and Bu-.Jhal, the former the uncle, and the latter the cousin 
 of ]Muhammad, w'ere his greatest enemies and opposers in the propagation 
 of his new faith. Jiumar, the second Khalifah after Muhammad, is 
 called Faruk, The Distinguisher. 
 
160 khushhAl khan, khattak. 
 
 The purity of the Musalmaii, Khushhal ! is possible ; 
 But no ablutions, no purifications, can make the Gabr* clean. 
 
 X. 
 
 Through soitow at the iwf)r-spiritedncss of the Afghans. 
 I liave abandoned greatness, ami taken meanness in liaud. 
 
 Had tliis nuich even been gained in the matter, it were good — 
 Had T wreaked ui)on tlie recreant my fidl meed of revenge. 
 
 From the time when the jewel of my honour became broken, 
 1 have not left, fur a moment, my eyes free fi-om teai-s. 
 
 Tliat pearl came not into my hands, after all my trouble. 
 And, therefore, my boat I have drawn up on the sea-shore. 
 
 This waist of mine, that in resistance was a mountain, 
 Through chiigriu and dis:ip])ointment, >into the Mughal T bent. 
 
 But let good fortune once commence again to aid me, 
 Tliat it may relieve me from the weight of affliction's load 
 
 Tills misery of mine is not to be compared to any other grief, 
 Altimugh I may have experienced a tliousand woes and sorrows. 
 
 The l)ack of fortune, and the world's, l)oth aiv turned upon me ; 
 Hence, through sorrow, 1 turned my face from all, the Mu,t;hal unto. 
 
 Were it in my power, or were it mine own free-will, 
 I Would not, even two ])aces, towards them advance. 
 
 I am obliged to hearken to crooked words from the mouths of those, 
 I'nto whom, in my lifetime, I never before a stmight one g;ive. 
 
 * (i:ilir is tlu' ii;nne ;rivpii to Fire-worshipper.-!, or ParsKS. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 1 () I 
 
 The outcries of my own people, and of sti-angcrs, affect me, 
 Notwithstanding I used, even from a whisper, to sci'een myself. 
 
 I am now ashamed of those proud and I:)oastful words, 
 Tliat, before every one, were wont to issue from my lips. 
 
 A hundred reproaches and indignities are heaped \ipon me. 
 Who ever guarded myself from detraction and reproach. 
 
 'T is for this reason the elephant streweth dust upon his head,'^' 
 That I made him acquainted with Ksushhal's sorrows. 
 
 XI. 
 
 If, for once only, she will show her face from the veil, 
 She will take the diploma of beauty from the sun. 
 
 The tulip shall borrow bloom from her countenance ; 
 The hyacinth will grow furious at the sight of her ciu'ls. 
 
 Wherefore doth the world accuse fortune thus falsely ? 
 'T is she, that with her eyes, hath desolated the world. 
 
 Either those orbs of hers are red from wine's effects, 
 Or some one hath roused her from sleep, unseasonably. 
 
 She quafteth the blcwd of hearts in the pJace of wine ; 
 Then again, taketh roasted hearts, as an incitement to more. 
 
 The special death of the slaughtered by the hand of the beloved, 
 Is that they may enter Paradise, without rendering account. 
 
 Let my heart he a compass, and let it never vary or turn 
 In any other direction, save the altar of thine eyebrows unto. 
 
 * The elephant is in the habit of sprinkUng himself with dust, to drive 
 insects away ; but here it is to indicate sorrow. 
 
I''l2 KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 Do not he so overjoyed, Khurhhaf, ! at all her vows : 
 For, fmiii the Imbljle, no one hopeth for any constancy. 
 
 XII. 
 
 zephjT of the mom ! draw near \into the parterre ; 
 For the flijwers are overjoyed, in expecti\tion of blooming. 
 
 What doth the hermit know, as to what thing love is ? 
 "Wlierefore speakest thon to the owl, the garden concerning 1 
 
 Though the monks perfonn their devotions five times a day, 
 
 1 am ever prostrate, in devotion, inito the fJiver of good. 
 
 As much as I behold thee, I do not become satiated, 
 Notwithstanding I g;xze so intently upon thy fivce. 
 
 Again, indeed, place thou a scar on the anemone's heart, 
 ^Vhen thou roamest in the garden, so joyous and gi\y. 
 
 Anger and kindness I perceive between thine eyebrows : 
 The tablet of thy forehead thou hast placed to be })erused. 
 
 Sometimes, thou raisest strife ; at othei-s, showest kindness — 
 Simple hearted that I am, at such skill, I grow amazed. 
 
 If thou ha.st set thine heart uj)on my death, I too, s;iy. 
 That thy tyranny hath brought me to death's door nigh. 
 
 XIIT. 
 
 Draw near, iind behold him now, with a clod beneath his head. 
 Who could not sleep upon a l)ed, without a jiillow of feathei-s ! 
 
 This, which they call the transient wc^'ld, hath no existence, and 
 
 is nauglit ; 
 For this rca.son, () foojisli ni;ui ! 't is hideous in the si^ht of the wise. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 163 
 
 This world is a scabby shcc^) — then wliat good is there iu 
 
 keeping it ? 
 The shepherd, whru he findeth ont its scabbiness, cxpelleth it from 
 
 the flock. 
 
 Is this a tempest or hail-storm, that both standing com and stacks 
 
 also go ] 
 Out vipon such a corn-field as this, since an ear of coni can not be 
 
 found ! 
 
 With these eves of mine, I have beheld the nol)]e and nxassive 
 
 structiu'es of kings, 
 Who coveted the world's dominion, but left them, all at once, 
 
 behind ! 
 
 A hundred thousand squadn>ns assemble, and collect the treasures 
 
 of the woi'ld ; 
 Be as Sanjar* for a few generations, and then neither thoix nor thy 
 
 race remain. 
 
 Thy house is on the face of a flood, and tliis thy contemptible idea 
 
 is still worse ; 
 For no one would there his dwelling make, that it should be swept 
 
 by the flood away. 
 
 * Sultan Muezz-ud-din Sanjar was the son of Malik Shah, sixth 
 monarch of the race of Seljuk, and for upwards of twenty years Governor 
 of Khurasan. His life is remarkable for the vicissitudes he suifered, having 
 once been confined for four years in an iron cage, by the Guzzian tribe 
 of Turkomans, but subsequently escaped. He died the SSth of Rubblah- 
 ul-awal, A. H. 552, after a reign of forty-one years, paramount sovereign 
 of Persia, and in the 73rd of his age. AVith him the grandeur of the race 
 of Seljuk terminated. He has been equally praised for his piety and 
 modesty of disposition, and for his benevolence, and the love of his people ; 
 for his respect for, and his encouragement of learning and learned men ; 
 and for his zeal and exertions to promote the advancement of his religion. 
 
 ^r 2 
 
KU KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 Shouldst thou become u Shiilulad* in tlie world, still cuhimity will 
 
 remember thee j 
 And if here thou a Paradise preparest, of what profit is such an 
 
 Adcn+ to thee ? 
 
 He carried away along with him, this wealth ephemeral, yoiuig 
 
 man ! 
 Who iliHused it broadcast; but not they, that heaped it up for 
 
 themselves. 
 
 I have beheld fortime's practices — its different usages and ways — 
 It clambercth unto thco with dithculty ; but like a stone from a 
 mouutiiin, roUcth away I 
 
 If thou art foolish and imprudent, like unto Mlr-l)az| pui-sue it ; 
 But if wise and prudent, like unto Kulshhau from it flee awaj' ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 These dark waving cvu'ls, they arc thine, thou dear one, so beau- 
 tiful, so gay I 
 
 Black narci.ssuses are those eyes of thine, thou dear one, so beau- 
 tiful, so gay ! 
 
 When tlii>u gavest me a kiss, I became intoxicated, beyond conijm- 
 
 t^itiou ; 
 For like imto red wine are thy lips, thou dear one, so beautiful, 
 
 so gay ! 
 
 Now that 1 have with mine eyes gazed on this, thy lovely cheek, 
 I know tiiat it is the tulip, thou dear one, so beautiful, so gay I 
 
 * For an iiccouiit of Shnhdad and his ganleii ol' Ir.im, .^ec note at 
 j)ag.' HI. 
 
 t Ibid. 
 
 I Mir-bii/, .KJifm, a connexion of Khuslihrirs, wlio was a wor>liiji|ier of 
 the wealth of the Mugljals. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 165 
 
 They, who umrimir and coniphiin unto others, of thy tyranny, 
 Are faithless and inconstant too, tliou dear one, so beautiful, so gay ! 
 
 Free of grief, how can he sleep — in tranquillity how shall he be. 
 Who is separated from tliee ] thou dear one, so beautiful, so gay ! 
 
 He only will receive thy kisses, on whom thy afltections may be, 
 Tho' many are enraptured with thee, thou dear one, so beautiful, 
 so gay ! 
 
 Thou wreakest injustice on me, then sayest, "This is not done by 
 
 me" — 
 Then whose act is it, if not thine ] thou dear one, so beautiful, 
 
 so gay ! 
 
 Thou sayest luito Kjhushhal, " There are others far prettier than I :" 
 Can there be one, than thee more loveh' I thou dear one, so 
 beautiful, so gay ! 
 
 XV. 
 
 Wine's intoxication soon cometh, and as qtiickly disappeareth ; 
 But the eternal inebriation leaveth not the inebriated one. 
 
 Tho', in the world, my name is become notorious for debauchery. 
 Still I will not abandon the ways of the bibbers of wine. 
 
 Though the king may cast him into prison, he will not grieve ; 
 For the liberty of the free is from the beginning of time. 
 
 There is neither friendship nor relationship : all is deceit, I find. 
 Since I became acquainted with the ways and usages of mankind. 
 
 I am happy in hope of future joy, tho' now in sorrow plunged ; 
 For the day ever followeth, in rotation, after the darkness of night. 
 
 The pearl of our yearnings lieth immersed in ocean's depths ; 
 And after it, the divers plunge continually, into its dark ab^'ss. 
 
1GB KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 Tliat fish, who may j)erceive danger from the sharp hook, 
 From the bottom to the shore, from prudence, will never look, 
 
 Tlie thoughts of tl»e lover's heart are like unto the deep, deep sea, 
 The billows of which, at times, rage in fury ; at othei-s, calmly slcei). 
 
 AflFection for the l)eloved, from KhushhaiAs heai-t, will never 
 
 depart : 
 It is like unto the love of the idolater, for the idol of his woi-ship. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 From out of the clear, azm'c tlask, 
 
 cupbeai'er ! bring thou unto me 
 
 A full goblet of that potent wine. 
 
 The remedy for gi"ief, the consolei- in woe. 
 
 Speak not of the tributes of the world ! 
 They camiot compare with one cup of wine : 
 nieu, censor, leave me and the wine, withal ! 
 Tho' thereby my house should devastated l)c. 
 
 Become thou the beggar at the tixveni's door. 
 If along with the crown, thou dominion seek : 
 T[\c mart of tlic wiiK'-liibbors is crowded, 
 From this extensive sale of wine. 
 
 Turning from the idol-temple to the monastciy. 
 Is botli an absurd and a useless act : 
 From the cupbearer, then take thou tho glass ; 
 For therein is nuich gladness and joy. 
 
 O cupl nearer ! let me ever behold thee — 
 Thou of tho moon-like l>row and sunny face! 
 BriiiLr the crystal cuj), to overflowing full. 
 And satisf^v the veaniings of KHUsnn \i. ! 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 167 
 
 XVIT. 
 
 Tho' the miser's house may coutain the water of immortalit}' ; 
 Still, like unto the deadliest poison, is its effect on me. 
 
 Moses possessed nothing whatsoever, but one rod alone : 
 Karun had boundless wealth, and verily, calamity befell him.* 
 
 He who hath riches, with it hath vexation and misfortune mix'd up ; 
 Hence the wise so act, that they may not their troubles increase. 
 
 The duration of the rose ; the world's wealth ; the mean man's 
 
 friendshijj ; 
 These tlu-ee or four things are all inconstant and transitory. 
 
 He, who may neither possess modesty nor virtue, genius nor 
 
 miderstanding, 
 Regard not his wealth, nor his beaxity, nor his ancestral descent. 
 
 The wise man is in utter misery, whilst the fool reveleth in pleasure — 
 And well, indeed, may the world be amazed at such occiu-rences as 
 these. 
 
 That he should continue happy all his life, and grief never assail 
 
 him. 
 No one, into the world hath brought, a safe-conduct, such as this. 
 
 This is the way with fortune — some it maketh happy — some 
 
 miserable ; 
 And however clear now, the mirror will become clouded heai'efter. 
 
 Wherefore, then, trouble thyself? Be rejoiced at this, Khushhal ! 
 That he, who hath neither riches nor wealth, hath neither pil- 
 grimage to perform, nor taxes to pay. 
 
 * Karun, son of Yeshar, the uncle of Moses, and identical with Korah 
 of the Scriptures, who, at the complaint of Moses, against whom he had 
 broug-ht a false accusation, was swallowed by the earth, at tlie command 
 of the Almiorhtv. 
 
1()8 KHLSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 Will. 
 
 Vcrv many i>crri(>ii.s within my recollection, 
 Have come, and passed, like the wind away. 
 
 Thrv, indeed, aiTivc and depart, in such a way, 
 That they a])pear to have no tanyiug place at all. 
 
 It is au astonishing, and a vast workshop this, 
 Tliut the Great Master hath organized, and set up. 
 
 (.'ast thine eyes upon the bubble in the stream ! 
 What is it ? and what its origin and its base I 
 
 Sueli art tluni too, it' tliou canst understand : 
 An excellent example is demonstnited to thee. 
 
 Concerning thyself, thou knowest nothing : 
 Alas ! alas ! verily, thou knowest naught. 
 
 What are all thy grief and misery alioutl 
 And why becomest thou again oveijoyed? 
 
 .Since it is so very hard, U Khushh.\l ! 
 
 Is this thine heart, or is it but a lumji of steel ? 
 
 i..ike unto the wind, every moment, life i)asseth away! 
 
 Let then every man have the remembrance t>f death evei" before him ! 
 
 Since tlir lomulation of this life of iiis, is based upon tlie air, 
 rpon existence such as this, what reliance can i>e placed I 
 
 The dust of man is leavened with the water of mortality, 
 
 15y the hand of Onmipotence kneaded, in the space of t'orty days."' 
 
 • JU'ffrring to the Muliiinuniidan acruuiit of tlip creation, for which .see 
 Sule'c edition of thf Ki'h'an. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 169 
 
 l)()th saints and prophets liavc, alike, youe down into the touib — 
 Thou wouldst say, forsootli, that they had never existed at all. 
 
 If thou considerest it well, the term of life here is nothing : 
 No one hath attained in it the object of his desires and hopes. 
 
 If thou, indeed, seek life eternal, then I say iintt) thee, 
 War, for ever, with the infidels of the lusts of the flesh. 
 
 The prudent traveller, wln)se jo\u-ney lieth before him, 
 
 Takcth ])rovision with him, according to the length of the road. 
 
 Come, sever thine heart, Khushhal ! from all extraneous things ; 
 And in the hope of meeting Him, let it rejoice always ! 
 
 XX. 
 
 The Almighty gave into my arms — and I am imder obligation to 
 
 the mediator" — 
 The fiir-faced one, with the ruby lips, and the flowing sable tresses. 
 
 The beloved is kind and aftectionatc, and the consoler in everj" 
 
 sorrow : 
 Should the guardian come, what will he do ? neither grief nor 
 
 concern have I. 
 
 Let them consume ujion it, as a charm, to ward oft' evil from thy 
 
 face ; 
 For thy love is like unto fire, and thy lovers like unto wild ruef are. 
 
 * A person mIio acts as go-between of the parents in cases of marriage 
 or betrothal. 
 
 f The rue-plant was anciently regarded as an infallible antidote against 
 poison, pestilence, and the devil. It is much used in exorcisms, and has 
 been extravagantly eulogized and extolled by all writers, from Hippocrates 
 to Boerhaave. By the Afghans, the herb and its seeds are used as 
 fumigations, to ward off the evil-eye. 
 
170 KUUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 These arc not thy cheeks, nor arc these thy dark flowing rhiglets : 
 They're tlie fresh fibrils of the spikenard, that have ftillen two 
 roses npon. 
 
 I follow in her pursuit, in the hope that I may obtain, even 
 
 one look ; 
 But she easteth not her eyes behind ; and, thus, along before nic 
 
 goeth. 
 
 If this much of thy affection is not good fortune, what is it then ] 
 That when thou, upon KjIUShiiaIt Kttattak, smilest, the jealous 
 weep. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Unto till' old man, wl>o sigheth after youthfuhiess, say — 
 What is tills i laughest thou at thy lieanl, old man ] 
 
 Since in a year, it will have both yi>utli and age. 
 Than tlic fate of man, that of the wild rue is better. 
 
 At times, he becometh so sated at tabic, that lie cannot eat ; 
 
 At othei-s, he rolleth his eyes upon it, witii greeduiess and voracity. 
 
 In tin ir wishes, and in their words, and also in their proceedings, 
 'I'hc ]ioople of the world arc doiditful and timid of each other. 
 
 "NVith beard now grown white, wl»;y^ should I have fear of death ; 
 When friends, in their prime, with beanls black, have gone 
 before me I 
 
 Ilim, uuilcr wlmsi- sway the whole of the earth's surface was, 
 Draw near, and Ixliold now, in the surface of the earth ! 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 171 
 
 This world's folks are like unto the moving sands,* if th(ui l)ut 
 
 consider ; 
 For, in truth, they roll over, and iipset each other, in the very 
 
 same way. 
 
 With these eyes of mine, I have beheld the dread fiu-nace of fate — 
 I Khushhal, myself, wliom, like unto dried up verdure, it 
 consumeth. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Her sweet ftice took from me all thoughts of the wild white rose : 
 Her ringlets eradicated all consideration of the musk of China. 
 
 The cm-Is of the pagun beaiity became a cord al)out my neck :t 
 A thousand thanks, that she of my religion and faith divested me. 
 
 Although the folks offer up prayers for my patience and resignation, 
 Affection hath despoiled me of the "Amen," unto these supplications. 
 
 Save the lips of the beloved, I take no other name upon my tongue ; 
 For love hath abstracted from me all other memory and recollection. 
 
 My heart, on that day became disgusted with my own life, 
 When the hard-heai-ted one took it, entirely, from me. 
 
 By what law, indeed, hath she deprived me of sleep and repose, 
 That I weep and lament, and sigh and bewail, all the night long 1 
 
 Her two eyes are a falcon, and her waving locks are the king- 
 feathers : 
 
 The falcon pounced on, and carried from me the pigeon of my 
 heart. 
 
 * See note at page 15. 
 
 t A belt, or cord more particularly, worn round the middle by the 
 Eastern Christians and Jews, and also by the Persian Magi. It was 
 introduced a.d. 859, bj^ the Khali Fah Mutawakkil, to distinguish them 
 from Muliammadans. 
 
1 72 KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 At her coining, she nsed to brinjr witli her comfort and consolation ; 
 And l>v her dciKirtnrc, she would rob nie of uU tnuKiuillity soever. 
 
 The flowers of the imrtcrre hang down their heads, and this they 
 
 say — 
 "The heart-ravisher hatli appropriated to herself all admii-atiou." 
 
 I wi\H saving, I will considci", even yet, of some remedy for it ; 
 Wiien poor KnusHiiAL wholly withdrew his lacerated heart 
 from me. 
 
 Will. 
 
 The skirt of fortune and prosperity cannot be seized by force ! 
 
 Is the Idind man \\ithoiit reproach, if he apply antimony to his eyes ? 
 
 "What is wealth, indeed ? It is like imto a beautiful l)ride, 
 In an impotent fellow's house, where liei- life is in torment. 
 
 Let it not be, that every bad rider should mount fortune's steed : 
 If it be ridden I)y any one, at least a good horseman let him be. 
 
 From a sorry, low-bred ]niny, another wretched one is produced ; 
 'T is from the high-bred horses of the course alone, that noble steeds 
 come.* 
 
 'I'liat into my dwelling, in the Hrst place, such animals came, 
 My bifk nnist have been l)ad, from the beginning of time. 
 
 Tliese ponies are mere ])uppets — may confusion seize them ! 
 They create distui'bancc and tumult in the stable continually. 
 
 1 jke unto a good and worthy son in his father's dwelling, 
 
 A treasure of silver and gold in his house is not to be compared. 
 
 ' 'I'liis ai'iifars to n-frr tu -ouic of the ]>oct's wive.-, win. linic him di.— 
 olx'dicut .•'Oils. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 173 
 
 O («od ! thou hast given nie a iiumerous progeny, and I am 
 
 thankfid ; 
 But let the fonie of tlieii' goodness resound in every city and town ! 
 
 Tliey, who stir up enmity between brothers, ai'e recreant and un- 
 worthy : 
 
 Woidd to heaven they had leamt good, or had learnt naught 
 besides ! 
 
 Give both thine ears and eyes unto the appeals of Khushhal ; 
 Since Bahram and ^abid"' are, both of them, deaf and dumb ! 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 It is the sweet spring time, and I am separated from my beloved ! 
 Alas ! alas ! that thou passest away, spring, without her ! 
 
 Both the hills and the dales weep at the lover's state forlorn — 
 They are not from melted snow, those floods, that from the 
 mountains flow. 
 
 It is the fire of woiuided hearts, that hath enveloped the trees on the 
 
 hills ; 
 Hence, dense black smoke and flame arise, from the fir-tree and 
 
 the plane. 
 
 Dost thou desire to become acquainted with the condition of the 
 
 bereaved 1 
 Behold then, that crane, w^hich hath become separated from the 
 
 flock ! 
 
 It thus appeareth, that the world is a place of moiu'ning and sorrow ; 
 For the parrots have, with loud cries, green vestments donned. f 
 
 * Two unclutiful sons of the })oet, particularly Bahrilm. 
 J The species of parrot here referred to we should term paroquet in 
 this country. Green is the mourning colour in Muhammadan countries. 
 
174 KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 There are no other wailings besides — all are the wails of sepai-atiou : 
 Draw near, if thou woiildst hear them from the rebeck's every 
 string ! 
 
 My disease lesseneth not — indeed, it incrcaseth every hour : 
 For God's Siike, come speedily, physician, that I may not die ! 
 
 One, is duaili unto opponents — the other, is life luito beloved 
 
 friends : 
 I swear, by heaven, that when lovere meet, both are brought about ! 
 
 Wiat though one still breathe, and is accomitcd among the living ? 
 Wlien the malady is yet withtdit antidote, give up hopes of the 
 sick. 
 
 Of mankind none remain — those that roam about are demons and 
 
 devils ; 
 Hence, they have no compassion for the agonies of the distressed. 
 
 Through love, alas ! to this degree, wretched and miserable am I 
 
 become. 
 That whether relations or sti-angers, they look not on Khushh.u. 
 
 through shiimc. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Although she ([uarrelcth with mo, by word of mouth — that dear one ; 
 Yet in liLM" heart, that dear one ontortaiiioth nnu-h kindness for me. 
 
 When, with ai"ms each other's necks ai'ound, she accompanieth me, 
 Verily, fi-om my heart she removeth the rust -spot — that dear one. 
 
 There is no necessity for the sword — her coldness is sufficient, 
 If to compass my death should be the intent of that dear one. 
 
 Since she hath sliowu unto me the torch of her loveliness, 
 
 l')Hin it, Miiiither time, .she will make me the moth — that dear one. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 175 
 
 I am a poor beggar — she is a soveroigii ; hence it is becoming in 
 
 her, 
 Even though she of my affection should feel ashamed — that dear 
 
 one. 
 
 He, who may have turned Malang,* requireth but a carpet for 
 
 prayer ; 
 And in the end, too, a Malang will she make of me — that dear one. 
 
 With cheerful heart, she la\igheth and smileth with every one besides ; 
 But with me, indeed, she is mournful and sad — that dear one. 
 
 No gem-studded ornament hath she inserted in her nostril ; 
 
 But wath a single black clove she resteth satisfied — that dear one.t 
 
 Towards my opponents, her heart is gentle and soft as wax itself; 
 But towards Khushhal, she hardeneth it like stone — that dear one. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Upon those lips of her's is there not a black hand-maid ? | 
 Draw near ! Kliizr,§ at the fountain of immortality behold ! 
 
 The face of the beloved is rich, both in moles and in ringlets ; 
 For in the house of the wealthy, every requirement will be found. 
 
 When their shade over-shadoweth me, I a king become ; 
 For the shadow of thy dark curls is that of the Huma itself || 
 
 Thy cheek is an enkindled flame — what then is thy braided hair ? 
 It is like unto the dense black smoke, that from fire ascendeth. 
 
 * A kind of Darwesh or devotee, who goes about almost naked. 
 f It is usual with young females to wear a clove in the nostril, to keep 
 open the orifice pierced for the insertion of the nose-jewel, on marriage. 
 i A black mole. § See note at page 48. 
 
 II .See note at page 137. 
 
170 KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 The dust of those feet of thine, ut the rate of amber thou vendcst : 
 \VTio told thee that thou shouldst sell it at a price like this 1 
 
 For how long wilt thou look another way, and appear unconscious, 
 When ahntit me in every direction clamour and uproar arise ? 
 
 It is througli this loveliness that thou art beautiful like the rose, 
 If thiiu art, indeed, one of a father and a mother born. 
 
 He liath not the com'age to take her name upon his tongue — 
 The poor lover who feareth the censures and reproaches of the world. 
 
 I had given up wine, and had grown quite a penitent, indeed ; 
 But the goblet of the cupbearer again put my contrition to flight. 
 
 He that placeth foot within her alley, bringeth destruction on himself; 
 Therefore, unfortunate, into that vicinity do thou enter not! 
 
 WTiether it were her coquetry, or her conceits, I could have borne 
 
 them ; 
 Hut towards me she manifesteth exceeding aiTogauce at all times. 
 
 The w liole ])ower of her mind hath she put forth against him ; 
 And thereby hath deprived the poor lover of all energy and control. 
 
 When it may convey no signiticance, speaking is unpruHtal)le ; 
 But the Almiglity willeth not that Khushhrd's words be vain. 
 
 Since, on thy account, the black j)upils of his eyes turned white, 
 Welcome unto me, O thou, of Krushh.vl's eyes, the light ! 
 
 XX VI I. 
 
 I am, indeed, a wine-bibV)er ; then, wherefore, O monk! wranglest 
 
 thou with me / 
 Men's destinies are from all eternity — would thou eouldst like 
 
 thvself make me I 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 177 
 
 Wisely thou coimselcst — a blcssinj^, monitor, be upon thy tongue ! 
 But it were well, if by means of words, thou couldst the river's 
 water disguise. 
 
 They, who possessed naught of sense or understanding, have gone 
 
 to Heaven ; 
 Whilst those, who prided themselves upon their wisdom, have gone 
 
 to Hell. 
 
 Unto Abu-Jahl,* the precepts of Muhammad were of no advantage 
 
 soever ; 
 For who can polish the mirror of him, whom God hath with rust 
 
 coiToded 1 
 
 In loneliness and solitude seated, tell me, monk ! what thou 
 
 gainest thereby 1 
 Wherefore makest thou this wide and ample world, for thyself, so 
 
 confined ] 
 
 In ever}^ sect and religion, I, indeed, seek after the cause of the 
 
 heart's sorrows ; 
 But thoii knowest, and thine own words know, the various tales 
 
 thou tellest. 
 
 Draw near, ihon minstrel ! commence the song of the new year's 
 
 day ! 
 On rebeck, fliite, and harp, strike up those thrilling strains of 
 
 melody ! 
 
 The flowers teem on all sides — there are tulips, narcissuses, and 
 
 hyacinths too : 
 Thou actest unwisely, if thou purposest going in any other direction 
 
 than to the parterre. 
 
 * Lit. "The father of ignorance." an uncle of Muhammad's. 8ee 
 also note at pag'e 159. 
 
 N" 
 
17.S KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 Some, takinj^' with them much j)rovision for the jouniev, set oiit to 
 
 seek fi)r her ; 
 And others again, for her sake, bind the Sau ton's prayer-carpet 
 
 round their loins. 
 
 (), that the scale of thy good deeds may be heavy at the judgment 
 
 day ! 
 For like wax shalt thou soften, towards the lover, his opponents' 
 
 flinty hearts. 
 
 Though the whole of the armies of Dilhl have come to compass the 
 
 death of Khushhal ; 
 Still, thou dost not consider thyself strong enough, and hangest 
 
 back from shame. 
 
 XXVIll. 
 
 The woi-ld's affairs have all Ijecomc tuniL'd ujjside down : 
 All those wuys are not now, as they used to l)e seen by me. 
 
 Towards the father, the son showeth the actions of an enemy : 
 Towards the mother, the daughters are ready to act like rival wives. 
 
 In thine own house, there will not be two brothers together dwelling, 
 Who huve n(^t a thousand iniquities ready in their hearts. 
 
 Tlie seavengei' now feasteth on pvUao,* and rii-e, and sweetmeats ; 
 And unclean things are become lawful, for Muhammad's descen- 
 dants. 
 
 The honoured and tnisted of kings are now mere thieves become ; 
 A]id in their royal coin-ts, highway-robbei's are grown trustworthy 
 nu'u. 
 
 * .\ kind of i]i.-.li luude from Hesh and rice, to wliicli are added raisins 
 ami aliuoiid.-*, i-tc. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 170 
 
 The nigliting-ales and the parrots fly about the wilds, astounded ; 
 And crows and ravens caw and croak above the beds of flowers. 
 
 Babylonian steeds eke out an existence upon dry grass alone ; 
 Whilst the tanner's asses receive a stipendiary allowance of pro- 
 visions. 
 
 Fools, exempt from all care and anxiety, in tranquillity repose ; 
 WTiilst a hundred troubles and misfortunes, the prudent and the 
 wise beset. 
 
 The meanest slave assumeth authority over his own proprietor ; 
 And the slave-girls are more honourable than the mistress of the 
 house. 
 
 Alas, Khushhal ! in the days of the Emperor ^alam-glr,* 
 The house-born servants f have all a wretched and contemptible 
 
 lot ! 
 
 XXTX. 
 
 \Vliat numbers of boats in this river's depths have sunk and dis- 
 appeared, 
 
 A single plank of which, even shouldst thou search, cannot be dis- 
 covered ! 
 
 Everywdiere sepai'ation and absence have enkindled the flame of 
 
 grief : 
 Like unto green wood throwTi upon the fire, how long wilt thou 
 
 weep? 
 
 * Aurangzeb, son of the Emperor Sljali Jahan. 
 
 t Literally, liouse-born slaves ; but here the term applies to the trusty 
 chiefs and followers of SLah .Tahan, who was dethroned by Aurangzeb. 
 
 N 2 
 
180 KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 Sorrow and joy — pain and pleasure — are, from the licginning, linked 
 
 together ; 
 And as much as one may have wept, so mnch even shall he rejoice 
 
 agiini 
 
 Many lofty minarets have I beheld, in their gi-aceful symmetry 
 
 standing ; 
 But not a soul mentioned their names unto me, nor said unto whom 
 
 they belonged. 
 
 The cares and trf)ubles of the world are of a thousand varieties and 
 
 forms ; 
 And the summer skylarks trill and warble in a thousand different 
 
 ways. 
 
 They are different, by far, from the cherished sentiments of my 
 
 heart — 
 The manifold rumours, that the folks bandy fioui one to the other. 
 
 This scroll is not the kind of thing, that it shall ever be i)rought to 
 
 an end : 
 It is s])rcad oj)en, and examined into — it is read, and then rolled up 
 
 again. 
 
 Thine own actions are of use to thee, l)oth in this world and the 
 
 next — 
 Verily, the throat of eveiy one is kept moist, by its own saliva. 
 
 The humblest fare, thouirh barley-bread, unattended by eair and 
 
 trouble, 
 I will account miue dainty than the viands, on the king's table 
 
 outspread. 
 
 The ears of the reckless and imj)rudent are deaf — they cannot hear 
 The blunt, jilaiii-spokeu w(»rds from K_nusnii.\i. Kh.vttak's moutli. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN. KHATTAK. 181 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Every moment tliat a person may be thus in want of employment, 
 Than such, I hold him far better off, who is forced to labour for 
 nothing.* 
 
 The sick and infirm, if they do not work, are to be excused ; 
 But wherefore should not the hale man his living earn 1 
 
 Even if thou mayest not have any employment of thine own ; 
 Still, I say unto thee, sit not thus useless and unemployed. 
 
 Every amusement, by which care may be beguiled, is delight ; 
 Whether it be chess, or backgammon, or the pleasures of the chase. 
 
 Every horn*, and every moment, a man's state is different : 
 In one state unchangeable, is the Creator of the world alone. 
 
 Thy name, Khushhal, shall be remembered in the world ; 
 Eor, in truth, tliy employment is one great and mighty work ! 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Neither doth any one here seek to avail himself of my abilities and 
 
 experience. 
 Nor ai'e the capabilities of this country's people of any advantage 
 
 unto me.f 
 
 We converse together in one tongue — we speak the Pus'hto lan- 
 guage ; 
 But we do not, in the least, understand what we to one another say. 
 
 * " A want of occupation is not rest ; 
 
 A mmd quite vacant, is a mind distress'd." — CowpiiK. 
 j Written on the poet's return from Suwat, where he had gone to 
 endeavour to induce the YusuIzTb to join the confederacy against 
 Aurauffzeb. 
 
182 KULSHHAL KHAN, KUATTAK. 
 
 Tlie Suwatis account themselves exceeding wise, whilst they arc 
 
 but fools ; 
 And 't is amongst such a set as these, that the Almighty my lot 
 
 hath ciist. 
 
 Now that I have beheld the Suwat valley, I have this much dis- 
 covered, 
 
 Tliat there is no tribe more abject and contemptible thiiu the 
 Yusufzis. 
 
 Tyranny and self-conceit seem to be the innate nature of all ; 
 And everj' man amongst them is covetous and ready to beg. 
 
 Although, in tlicir dwellings, tla-y have wealth and goods, they are 
 
 hiuigr\'-cyc(l ; 
 And their head-men, than the rest, are more villainous and infiuiious 
 
 still. 
 
 'Tis said, that the water-melon deriveth its colour fnau the water- 
 melon ; 
 
 But their wise men and elders are nun'O wuitlilcss than the people 
 themselves. 
 
 The rights of the poor and heljiless, they make out wrong and 
 
 unjust. 
 If they ciui a single penny obtain by way of a present, or a bribe. 
 
 As to those I have seen myself — about others I am luiablc to 
 
 sjteak — 
 
 They are nil either Imlldcks or skiiiucis, \vith<iut any exception 
 
 soever.* 
 
 • A .«kiimcr or fanner is Linked ujmui with irniU ripiitcniiit liy tlir 
 Afghaii.s. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 1S3 
 
 Pcregi'inatious such as these, iu all countries, are by no means 
 
 useless ; 
 Since all the secrets regarding them became known mito me. 
 
 Now that Khushhal hath smelt tliC earth of Suwat, and the 
 
 Sama'h,* 
 He kuoweth, that a single faithful man will not, in them, be foiuid. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 There is lamentation eveiywhere, from the hand of death ! 
 In every place, in every habitation, from the hand of death ! 
 
 The form of man He created for the sake of death itself; 
 
 And evil and misery, in this world, came from the hand of death ! 
 
 The whole of the prophets and saints, that have ever existed. 
 Have all been hidden in the earth, by the hand of death ! 
 
 Surely, and without doubt, in the end shall be brought 
 
 Ruin and desolation on these fair abodes, by the hand of death ! 
 
 Come ! do thou, too, occupy thyself in laying by viaticum for thy 
 
 journey ; 
 For whole caravans have been dispatched, by the hand of death ! 
 
 Khushhal ! though in body thou shouldst a Shah Jahan be,t 
 Even then, thou wouldst depart in soitow, from the hand of death ! 
 
 * Sama'h signifies a plain in the A fgh an language, and is the name 
 given to that tract of countr}-, lying between the Kabul river, near its 
 junction with the Indus, and the mountains bounding Suwat on the 
 south. 
 
 f Kef'erring to the unhappy end of the lOniperor Shah Jalwn, dethroned 
 and imprisoned by Aurangzeb his son. 
 
184 KHLSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 XXXllI. 
 
 Wiilom, uidoed, 1 was iilways wise ; aiid wise, even yet, am I ! 
 I was ever mail aiul beside myself — mad, even yet, am I ! 
 
 There is association, not separation : from Him, disjmiction is un- 
 real : 
 AN'itli lliin, with wh(.an I was a dweller, a dweller, even yet, am I ! 
 
 iSince I have entered into the world, I have come to know myself: 
 I was a treasury of mysteries ; and of such, a trcasiu-y, even yet, 
 am I ! 
 
 In the world, the mention of my goodness is made, fur and neiu- : 
 Amongst the folks I was a fiction ; and a fiction, even yet, am I ! 
 
 When the veil of His face was drawn aside, unto me a torch 
 
 appeared ; 
 At that moment 1 was a moth thereon — a moth, even yet, am 1 ! 
 
 TliL' arrows <'f His eyelashes, they are the misfortune of my life : 
 1 was a target for them an age ; and tlair target, even yet, am 1 ! 
 
 W'lirii lie made me a friend of Himself, He turned me from all 
 
 I 'tilers away : 
 I tlirnwasa stranger \uito the world; and a stranger, even yet, 
 
 am 1 ! 
 
 'I'hat ciccan whicii is circumamlucnt, lioundless, imfathomable, 
 CM' tliat ocean 1 was the pearl ; and its j)earl, even yet, am 1 ! 
 
 In the sjune maimer, with mine iiwn iieloved, without agent oi' 
 
 delegate, 
 As I, KjJVsnHAL, used in amity to he, in amity, even yet, am 1 ! 
 
KHUSPIHAL jyiAN, KHATirAK. 185 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Amongst the whole village, my beloved is that person, 
 Who, tlironghout the whole tribe, is celebrated — that person. 
 
 Though, in resemblance and in cpialities, she may human seem ; 
 But, in truth, from head to foot, she is like a fairy — that person. 
 
 'Tis for this reason that I am as a nightingale towards her, 
 That, in loveliness, she is like imto a bower of roses — that person. 
 
 Notwithstanding she may reproach me, or become angiy with me ; 
 Yet still, from her mouth, she is a scatterer of sweets — that person. 
 
 ^Vllether her curly ringlets, her top-knot, or her side locks ; 
 She is the fragrant musk of Tjitary entirely — that person- 
 Let it not happen that I miss her in a crowd, but in case I should, 
 Know, that she is fawn-eyed and rosy-cheeked — that person. 
 
 In place of a veil, I will present hei- my head as an offering, 
 Should she nourish the desire to possess it — that person. 
 
 When I seek to kiss her, she censur-eth and rebuketh me — 
 She is severe and tyrannical beyond measure— that person. 
 
 When arrayed, from head to foot, in gold-embroidered garments, 
 From head to foot she is a golden picture — that person. 
 
 Wherefore, partridge ! art thou so proud of thy gait ; 
 For her step is far more graceful than thine — that person ! 
 
 Since her form and disposition perfectly harmonize together. 
 Unto the heart of Khushhal she is precious—that person. 
 
186 KHUSIIHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 There will l)e none of the world's viiuitics and ambitious within 
 
 the tomb : 
 Thine owii good deeds will go with thee, and naught else besides ! 
 
 Without the parrot, the eage is useless — be convinced of this ! 
 And the soul is like unto the paiTot— the body like unto its cage. 
 
 I'e careful, that it may not be, altogether, lost luito thee ; 
 For, like xuito a jjcarl of great price, is this breath of thine. 
 
 WJioso easteth this pearl, so precious, uuprofitably away, 
 He is not a whit better than the beasts of the field. 
 
 Pass near the gr.ives of the chiefs, and the nobles of the land ! 
 Behold, out of their dust, thonis and brambles have sprung \ip ! 
 
 Whatever liath hapj)ened, cmmot be changed ; wherefore, then 
 Dost thou manifest such apprehension, and such dread? 
 
 "I'is tiiy k)t, fnun the world to liear, at most, Itut a shroud away ; 
 And that, too, will be but eight or nine yai'ds, or may be ten. 
 
 All these things, my dear ! will remain behind thee ; 
 Whether pretty maidens, noble steeds, or robes of finest satin. 
 
 lie ready, Kj_ushh.\l ! for the time of departure is cime — 
 In every direction may be heard the sound of the warning bell !* 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Tlif 'rurauis are all turbulent, (juarrelsomv, and oppressive ; 
 Liars, prrjurers, and eoneoetors of ealunuiy and slamlrr. 
 
 * Sff noti' at juige 71. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 187 
 
 The Irauls* are of a friendly disposition — they are true and faithful : 
 They have iirhanity, and breeding — are respectable and deserving. 
 
 The Afghans are malevolent, and ruthless, and contentious ; 
 But give them for their modesty and valour due praise. 
 
 V/hether Baluch or Hazarah, both are dirty, and abominable : 
 They have neither religion nor faith — may shame attend them ! 
 
 Whether Hindustani or SindhI, may their faces be blackened ; 
 For they have neither modesty nor shame ; neither bread nor meat ! 
 
 The Kashmiris, whether male or female -may they all be undone ! 
 They have none of the chattels of humanity amongst them. 
 
 Behold ! they are not of the human race — what are they 1 
 May perdition swallow them— both Uzbak and Kazalbash ! 
 
 The Laghmfinis, Bangas^his, Suwatis, Tirahls — all of them, 
 Are dancers and fiddlers— and who will be friends with such ? 
 
 Unto him, all matters are manifest, regarding other folks' ways ; 
 Then render unto Khushhal's shrewdness, its due meed of praise.f 
 
 * Under the two names of Iran and Turan, from whence the people are 
 termed Irani and Turani, Eastern authors comprehend all the higher 
 Asia, except China and India. Iran, which is the Eastern name for the 
 Persian Empire, includes all that immense tract of country, lying between 
 the Oxus or Bakhtrus on the north, the Arabian sea on the south, and 
 the Tigris on the west. The region beyond the Oxus is Turan or Scythia, 
 or Turkomania. In some instances, Iran! and Turani include all mankind, 
 in the same maimer as Greek and Barbarian— Jew and Gentile— Arab 
 and Ajam. 
 
 t All the different tribes here mentioned are not Af gh ans, but are either 
 located in Afghanistan or border on the Af gh an country. The Panjabis 
 anil t^ikhs not being mentioned, would indicate that in Khushhrd's days 
 they were not recognised as separate people, but included amongst 
 Hindustanis. 
 
188 KHUSHHAL KHAN. KHATTAK. 
 
 xxxvir. 
 
 I iim well ac(juaiuted with Aurangzeb's justice, and equity — 
 His orthodoxy in matters of fuith — his self-denial and fiists ; 
 
 His own brothers, time after time, cruelly put to the sword — 
 His father overcome in battle, and into ])rison thrown I 
 
 I'ho' a person dash his head against the ground a thousand times, 
 Or by his fastings, should bring his navel and spine together ; 
 
 Until coupled with the desire of acting with virtue and goodness, 
 His adorations, and devotions, are all impositions tuid lies. 
 
 The way of whose tongue is one, and the path of his heait another, 
 Let his very vitals be mangled, and lacerated by the knife I 
 
 Externally, the serpent is handsome, and symmetrically formed ; 
 But intenially, is with uncleanness and with venom filled. 
 
 The deeds of men will be many, and their words will be few ; 
 But the acts of recreants are few, and their boastings many. 
 
 Since the arm of KiasHHAL cainiot reach the tyrant here, 
 
 in the day of doom, may the Almighty have no mercy on him ! 
 
 XX. Will. 
 
 I am intoxicated with that covuitenance, whicli hath sleepy, languid 
 
 eyes : 
 By them, I become sn cut and gashed, thou wouldst >ay, tiiose 
 
 vyvs sharp swords contain. 
 My beU)ved, in loveliness and gmce, is incomparable, and without 
 
 equal : 
 But, than her whole person, more sjdendid, and more radiant are 
 
 i>er eyes. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATl^AK. 189 
 
 I have seen the hue eyes of very many fair ones, in iny hfetime ; 
 But only one, here and there, hath lashes full and long like thine. 
 
 Tho' the prelate and the priest may admire them a hundred times, 
 Can the Hourl* have brighter eyes, than those dark ones of thine 1 
 
 Those marplots are sitting together, talking about the poor lover ; 
 Consequently, he keepeth his eyes, to this degree, averted from thy 
 face. 
 
 Wlieresoever thou art, there, and there only, will my sight be 
 
 directed — 
 Wherever the heron may be, thei'e the falcon directeth his eyes. 
 
 There is not, in the wide world — tho' I am constantly in search — 
 One such fair charmer, that may, to day, possess bewitching eyes. 
 
 She looketh upon no one — to what degree will the pride of her 
 
 beauty go I 
 See how long this wayward creature will look so proudly from 
 
 her eyes. 
 
 'Tis well for them, who are happy in the society of the beloved of 
 
 their hearts ; 
 For every hour, on the face of their dear ones, they charm their 
 
 eyes. 
 
 Draw near, if thou wouldst behold Khushhal in sorrow and grief — 
 Day and night, from thee severed, his eyes with tears o'ei-flow ! 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 A man is he, who is com-ageous, and whom success attendeth — 
 Who is gentle and affable, unto all people, as long as life lasteth. 
 
 * A blnck-eved virgin of the Muhammadan Paradise. 
 
1 90 KHUSHHAL KHAN. KHATTAK. 
 
 His face, his real face — his word, his word — his protaise, his 
 
 promise : 
 With no falsehood in hini, no deception, not witless and lewd. 
 
 His words few, hut his deeds many, and in silence performed — 
 With month closed, but lx)som laid open like tlie bud of the rose. 
 
 When lunniHty nuxy be necessar}', or when stateliness be required, 
 Tit be in loftiness, like the heavens — in luunbleness, like the dust. 
 
 In dignity, like the cypress — in generosity and bounty, like the vine — 
 Its branches, on all sides, imder the weight of its clusters bending. 
 
 Like unto a fresh and fragi'ant full-blown rose in the parteiTC, 
 Aroiuid which the sweet nightingales raise their plaintive songs. 
 
 1 am quite amazed, suice he speaketh in this manner, 
 
 As from whence did Krushhal all this mental genius bring. 
 
 XL. 
 
 In this parterre, a single leaf of thine there will not be, O rose ! 
 Shouldst thou become acquainted with autmnn's dii-e inclemency. 
 
 Account as gi-eat good fortune, these thy few days in the gai-don, 
 That the nightingales, for thy sake, beat their breasts and bewail. 
 
 Nothing whatever of the ghny and dignity of that garden will 
 
 remain, 
 When the plaintive melody of the nightingale is hushed within it. 
 
 T'lx'U tliat wine-flask, wiiich the cupbearer hath with him. 
 The eyes turn not towards, since it is devoid of any wine. 
 
 Behold the pjissage of this bridge, by the peoi)le of the world I 
 See ! some fall, whilst some outstrip othei-s, and cross before them. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 191 
 
 It will never be effaced from its memor}^ as long as it liveth, 
 If the partridge may ever have felt the talons of the hawk. 
 The decrees by fate ordained, cannot be changed by any moans, 
 Tho', over thyself, thou shouldst read the four kith* unceasingly. 
 
 Lovers, who unto love devote themselves, will never grieve ; 
 
 Nor for the backbitings of marplots, and tale-bearers, will they care. 
 
 What shall I, a poor darweshf do ] neither hand nor might have I, 
 Otherwise, indeed, I would have exhausted the whole upon the 
 
 world. 
 Such a dear one I possess — from this, thou mayest of her loveliness 
 
 judge, 
 ^\^leu the fragrance of musk is nothing to that of her ringlets. 
 
 How can he possibly lie on his bed, free from soitow and care. 
 Who may be aware of the dread earthquakes and tornados of fate 1 
 
 In the assiuned coldness of the beloved, there is a pleasiire withal ; 
 But miserable Khushhal, alas ! from her real indifference, dieth. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Should any one speak about intellect and ability, cei-taiul}^, I 
 
 possess them ; 
 But since good fortvine assisteth me not, unto whom shall I mention 
 
 such things 1 
 
 In this world, the gift of fidelity and sincerity is alchemy itself ; J 
 ^\^lerefore, then, should I be covetous to obtain it from any one ] 
 
 * Reading over the su7-a or chapter of the Kur'an, entitled " kul huwa- 
 l-lah" by way of benediction, and to preserve one's self from evil and 
 misfortune. 
 
 f A religious mendicant or devotee. 
 
 I That is to say, an impossible thing'. 
 
192 KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 The fruit of constancy and faith, is not to he found in the world's 
 
 ganlcn — 
 I search for it, hootlessly, and unavaiUngly, upon every tree. 
 
 That rain which fallcth upon the water?, and mixeth with tlieni, 
 How shall I such n\in account, amongst other genial showers ? 
 
 My foolishness liath become predominant over my sense and 
 
 prudence — 
 I'nprotitably, I cast liack my jieails into the depths of ocean again. 
 
 By means of fate, it will neither decrease, nor will it increase — 
 I do not consume that daily-bread which belongeth not to me. 
 
 Whatever may remain redundant, out of my daily sustenance, 
 Like unto a thing given in tru.st, I preserve for the use of othere. 
 
 What place, in the pi'esent time, is free from deceit, and fi-om 
 
 imj)osture ? 
 tell n\c where ! that there I may flee, and escape from them. 
 
 If there had been any safety in flight, from destiny I had been free ; 
 But, alas ! where shall I direct my steps, to be safe from its decrees ? 
 
 Cruel fortime stoneth me with the stone of calamity and perfidy; 
 ^Vhil8t I, silly that I am, carry a shield of glass before my face. 
 
 When, from its advent, I obtained neither happiness nt>r jov, 
 Wiierefore should I make my heart sa<l, by sevenince therefrom] 
 
 The}' were wont to say tliat patience is the sigii of success ; 
 Therefore, I KnusHH.vL, with resignation gird up my heart. 
 
 XLll. 
 
 Notwithstanding thou art unto me a sovereign, and 1 a beggar ; 
 Still turn not iVoni iiie tliv fact\ for 1 am distracted and distressetl. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. l\)6 
 
 I, who bear the brand of thy tliraldom and enslavement, 
 Do not consider any one equal with myself; for I am a king. 
 
 The door of my heart I have closed unto all extraneous things — 
 Associating with the world, I am filled with anxiety for thee. 
 
 If any one is wretched about thee, I am that wretched being : 
 If any one is the dust of , the sole of thy foot, that dust am I. 
 
 Sometimes, I write upon paj)er the words of thy mj'stery — 
 At others, through grief for thee, I tell, unto my pen, my state. 
 
 The admii-ers of thy pretty face, are beyond computation ; 
 But amongst the whole of them, I am without compare. 
 
 Exclude me not from being accounted among the dogs at thy door, 
 Although I may be deban-ed from all benefits, and favours beside. 
 
 Shouldst thou love and kindness bestow, of them I am unworthy — 
 If thou treat me with harshness and severity, I merit theni. 
 
 Unto Khushhal thou wast saying, " Of what use art thou ?-" 
 If I am of use, or if I am of no tiso ; still, still I am thine ! 
 
 XLIir. 
 
 Gentle breeze of the morn ! .shoiddst thou pass over Khairabad,* 
 Or shoidd thy course lead thee by Sara'e, on the banks of the Sind;t 
 
 Hail them, again and again, with my gi-eetings and salutations ; 
 And with them, many, many expressions of my regard and love ! 
 
 * An old fortress and village on the west bank of the Indus, facino- 
 Artak. 
 
 t The town of Sara'e, belonging to the Khattak tribe of Afghans, Hes 
 amongst the hills to the west of Attak, and not far from the west bank 
 of the Sind or Indus. It is one of the chief towns of the tribe, and was 
 the birthplace of the poet, and most of his ancestors are here buried ; but 
 Khushhal himself was buried at a different place. See notice precediu"- 
 his poems. 
 
 o 
 
ly4 KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 C'ly out unto the swift Aba-Sind with sonoi'ous voice ; 
 But unto the Landdaey, mildly and whisperingly say* — 
 
 "Perhaps, T may drink, once more, a cup of thy watei^s ; 
 For, whilom, 1 was not on Ganjircs' nor on Jamna's banks." 
 
 Of the climate of Hind t should I complain, how loncc shall I cry 
 
 out ? 
 ^\^nlst the vileness of its water is far more horrid stiU. 
 
 Shouldst thou drink water from a rividet, it racketh the vitals ; 
 And that of the wells, too, is not free from danger and peril. 
 
 Since therein, from hill streams, the cool element is not t(^ be had. 
 Defend us from Hind, tho' it shoidd teem with all the world's 
 luxuries besides. 
 
 Surely, no one will continue in utter helplessness in this world — 
 Tlie mercy of tlic Merciful will be shown unto the forlorn, at last ! 
 
 Of the restoration of the wounded, hope may be entertained, 
 ^^^len the sore, of its pin-ulcnce, shall become somewhat free. 
 
 Once more, God ! dclijjht, by luiiting me unto her again. 
 That heart, which now, from her separated, is rent in twain. 
 
 The wise muriniu" not, neither do they ever dennn*, 
 
 At any stroke of misfortune, that emauateth from the All-wise. 
 
 In Hind, Khushhal ! thou wilt not remain for aye ; 
 
 For the sinner, even, at livst, will escape from the fire of Hell ! 
 
 • .\bri-Sind, sipiifvinir "the fither of rivers," is the -Aftcliiln name for 
 the Indus. Tlie Landilaey-Sind, or "little river," is that known as the 
 river of Kril)ul, after its junction with the Suwfit (the ancient Sua.stu3), 
 until it joins the Indus a little above Attak. 
 
 f Hind, or Hiiulristrin. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 195 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 T never will carry inv face unto tlie mirror again,"' 
 Xor will I again anoint mine eyes with antimony ! 
 
 Xever more will I dye red my white hand^ with hinnri,t 
 Xor smoothe out, with the comb, my long hair any more ! 
 
 I will not arrange the little ringlets, iii clusters romid my foco, 
 Xor will I redden my lips with the betel-leaf J again ! 
 
 For whom shall I deck out and ornament my person, 
 When my beloved friend is not present the same to behold ? 
 
 My whole frame turneth into red flames and dense smoke, 
 "\Mien, in my heart, I think of the secrets of our love. 
 
 Though life is sweeter than aught else in the world besides, 
 "NMiat shall I do with it ? 't is bitter now, from my love severed. 
 
 May he be happy, that dear friend, wlierever he may be ! 
 Let him for his own happiness care — I alone will mourn ! § 
 
 * Tliis poem was written bj' one of Khushlifil's wives, the mother of 
 Ashraf, himself a poet, who died in exile in Southern India, It would 
 almost appear to be a reply to the poem preceding, which was written by 
 Khushhrd, whilst in exile in India. 
 
 f The leaves of a tree {Laiosonia inermis) from which a bright orano-e 
 red colour is extracted, and with which the Muhammadan people of Asia 
 dye the hands and feet on festive occasions. 
 
 \ Used to give a bright red colour to the lips ; but the bark of the wal- 
 nut-tree seems to be the favourite substance for the purpose amono- the 
 A fgh an females now-a-days. 
 
 § The play on the words in these two last lines are nearly lost in trans- 
 lation ; for instead of inserting her own name, the writer uses her husband's, 
 which signifies ' happy.' To have inserted her own name would have been 
 considered indelicate. 
 
 o 2 
 
r.»G KHUSHHAL KHAN. KHATTAK. 
 
 XLV 
 
 I liin intoxicated ! I am a worsliipper of wine ! I indixlgc I I indulge ! 
 Give ear, censor ! dost hear me ] I drink wine ! I drink wine ! 
 
 All other wine soever, I have given up to the world to drink of; 
 But her hj) is a wine that I will not resign — lor it I die ! I die ! 
 
 I shall not become satiated therefrom ; for my thii-st is un- 
 
 (|uenchahle. 
 Although, such ovci^flowing cuj)s I sliould quaft" for ever ! for ever! 
 
 I, iiuleed, who on such a path as this, still jomiie}* ou my way, 
 Ubed not always to be in safety ; for it is the path of love ! love ! 
 
 What askest thou me? — "What was thy state in separation?" 
 Well — I knew notliing else, save that my heart was Inmiing ! 
 
 burning I 
 People say unto me, "Verily thy colour is become sallow — thou 
 
 art in love !" 
 I do not deny it : truly, my friends, I am in love ! mdecd, I am ! 
 
 With the lover it is customary, that in love he should brook 
 
 censm'e ; 
 For this reason, I, JKhushhal, undergo it — I suftor it, and endure ! 
 
 XLVl. 
 
 1 become quite astonished with the peo])le of the world. 
 To see what these dogs do, for the sidte of the flesh's lusts. 
 
 Such acts and proceedings are developed, and poi-petnited by them. 
 As tlie Devil wouhl never have thought of, and never have uttered. 
 
 The Kur'an they always place before them, and from it they read ; 
 Hut none of their doings will be in conformity with the tenets 
 tiicrrof. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN. KHATTAK. 197 
 
 "Wliat road shall T follmv in pursuit of them ? where shall I seek 1 
 For, like unto Alchemy itself, the wise have become scarce indeed. 
 
 Good men are like rubies and garnets — they can rarely be found ; 
 But like unto any common stones, the worthless are not a few. 
 
 Do they belong to the afrit,* the demon, or the goblin race 1 
 For, among the lineage of Adam, the Afghfins I cannot account. 
 
 Notwithstanding thou mayest give one the best of counsel and 
 
 advice ; 
 Still, even the counsel of his father is not acceptable to his heart. 
 
 The whole of the deeds of the Pattruisf are better than those of the 
 
 Mughals ; 
 But they have no unity amongst them, and a great pity it is. 
 
 The fome of Bahlol, and of Sher Shah too, resoundeth in my ears — 
 Afghan Emperors of India, who swayed its sceptre effectively and 
 wellt 
 
 For six or seven generations, did they govern so wisely, 
 That all their people were filled with admiration of them. 
 
 Either those Afghans were different, or these have greatly changed ; 
 Or otherwise, at present, such is the Almighty's decree. 
 
 * Afrit — one of the most fierce and cruel of the genii, or demons, of 
 Oriental tales. 
 
 f Pattilns, another name for the Afghans. 
 
 I The A fgh an Emperors of India, of the Ludi tribe, were Sultans Bahlol, 
 Sikandar, and Ibrahim, who reigned from a.d. 1450 to 1526, when Babar 
 conquered Hindustan. His son, Humayun, was again dethroned by Sher 
 Shah, an Afghan of the tribe of Sur, in a.d. 1540. To him succeeded 
 Salim Shah, his son, whose son, Muhammad Shah, was dethroned by 
 Humayun, the previous Emperor, and father of Akbar, in 155G. 
 
198 KHLSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 If the Afghans shall acciuirc the gift of cuucurd and uuity, 
 Old Khushhal shall, a second time, grow yoiiug therefrom. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 Separation tunicth sweet existence bitter unto man — 
 It layeth the very vit;\l.s ui)on fierce, devoxiring flames ! 
 
 Whatever strength and energj' the heart in the breast may possess. 
 Separation, out of these eyes, cxpellcth them, ever\' now and again. 
 
 Than such existence as this, annihilation is preferable by far, 
 When one's days and niudits all pass away, in nuscry and woe. 
 
 He faileth not to hit — he woundeth me to the veiy heart's core ; 
 For the archer of grief hath bent the knee, to take aim at me. 
 
 The book of my heart is on the subject of constancy and love — 
 It was torn up ; but no one acquired the meaning thereof. 
 
 If the gauze, which the moon rendeth,* can be again repau-ed, 
 Then the restoration of my poor heart, may also be effected. 
 
 Would to heaven such a ])erson would a])pcar — I am qnite willing — 
 As woidd bring l)ack my truant heart from thei)ath of the beloved ! 
 
 In separation, if there were no hojie of meeting once more. 
 
 For the bewildered lover, there would be n(< possibility of existence. 
 
 Wlien thou placest thy foot on that path, thy liead payeth the 
 
 forfeit ; 
 Yet on such a dangerous load as this, 1 continually wend my way. 
 
 * A kiiid of cloth or gauze, which is said to be vent by exposure to the 
 moonlight ; and. lipnr(\ is reprfsented by Oriental jjoets as cnninom-ed of 
 the moon. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN. KHATTAK. 199 
 
 Olio succecdoth imto another's place ; for such is the way of tlie 
 
 world — 
 And I, Khushhal, also, am the successor of poor j\lajiiuu.'* 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Tlic carnality of my heart is an Afrldljf who, for religion, 
 
 careth not — 
 Its good thoughts are but few ; but unto wickedness it is exceedingly 
 
 prone. 
 
 Like mi to Akhund Darwezah,;}: I point out godliness and piety 
 
 to it ; 
 But the flesh teacheth it impiety and infidelity, like nnto Pu- 
 
 Ros'han.§ 
 
 Two-and-sixty years, by computation, my own age hath now 
 
 reached ; 
 And my black hair hath turned silvery, but my heart not the least 
 
 white. 
 
 There are not, in the red carnelian caskets, those white pearls now ;|| 
 Neither do those narcissuses remain, nor those white roses of the 
 parterre."""' 
 
 * See note at page 29. 
 
 J A tribe of Afghans, dwelling in the hills to the west and .south of 
 Peshawar, who are about the most uncivihzed of the Afghans. 
 
 % The celebrated saint of the Af gh ans, and great antagonist of Pir 
 Roshan, the founder of the Poshanian sect of schismatics. He changed 
 the name of Pir Roshan, signifying, " Saint of Light," into Pir Tarik, or 
 " Saint of Darkness." 
 
 ^ Bayazid Ansari, who took the name of Pir Roshan, as above stated. 
 For further accounts of this man, see page 5L 
 
 II The red carnehan caskets refer to the gums, and the pearls are the 
 teeth in them. 
 
 ** The eye is compared to the narcissus, and white roses to a clear 
 complexion. 
 
200 KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 With my head on the suft ]nlluw hiid, I sleep without sorrow or 
 
 Ciire ; 
 ANTiilst tliosc who shfircil it with me, ;ire ik)W in tlie cold gi-ave 
 
 laid ! 
 
 Vcrv many boat*; have sunlv in the Indus of mortality and death ; 
 And with them en<;nli)hed therein, were many companions and 
 friends ! 
 
 What ! is it the veil of wTetchedness that hath fallen my sight 
 
 before, 
 Tliat with mine eyes I cannot perceive the truth, though 'tis 
 
 manifest to me 1 
 
 With l)(>dy in such agony, and so many physicians in the world, 
 
 I die- 
 Malediction on such conduct as this, that I seek not my own cure ! 
 
 T is past — 'tis gone! his place is Ikll. unless God have mercy on 
 
 him ; 
 Koi- along with Khushhal associated, ai-e both the Devil and the 
 
 flesh ! 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 ilow handsome soever thou art, thou aii; not Canaan's Joseph ! 
 However wise thou art, with Lokman* thou canst never compiu-e ! 
 
 Nc)twithstnnding thy poni]) and state, and that thou art the ruler 
 
 of the laud, 
 Kemcnibcr well, in thy heart, what a magnificent king was Sullmau.t 
 
 • i1'>op. t Soloraou. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 201 
 
 How many lovely-faced ones — how many sages and princes have 
 
 there been 1 
 As they came, so they departed — in the world, do even their names 
 
 remain 1 
 
 A good name will remain behind — naught else soever will survive : 
 The wicked for evil are remembered — the good, for their virtues, 
 in the memory live. 
 
 Shouldst thou hear of Hujaj,* thou wilt also hear the name of 
 
 Noshlrwauf — 
 For justice, the unbeliever is venerated — for tyranny, the believer 
 
 is cursed. 
 
 If thou desire to practise goodness, now is the time, whilst of the 
 
 living accounted — 
 There will be neither advantage nor profit, shouldst thou regret its 
 
 neglect, in the grave. 
 
 Tlie infidel is that man, who constantly followeth after the flesh's 
 
 lusts — 
 The true-believer is he, who is ever anxious about his religion and 
 
 his faith. 
 
 There is not the least doubt in this, that all will fall victims unto 
 
 death ; 
 But in this there is uncertainty, as to who will obtain a graveyard 
 
 to lie in. 
 
 Happy, truly happy shall he be, who may die with piety's blessings 
 
 attending — 
 A gi-ave in honour he obtaineth, and over him the blessed book is read. 
 
 * Hujaj, the Governor of Khurasan under the Khallfahs of the house of 
 Omeyah, and a notorious tyrant. 
 
 t A Persian monarch, celebrated throughout the East for his justice 
 and equity, hence he is known as " Noshirvvan the Just." It was during 
 liis reiii'n that Muhammad was born. 
 
202 KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 The season of youth hath passed — now, Klii-'5HHAL, old age 
 
 liath come I 
 Then leave thou all other tilings, and the equipments of the grave 
 
 pre])are ! 
 
 Were thine heart a little compassionate, how good it would be ! 
 Were a little of tliy love bestowed upon me, how kind it would be ! 
 
 1, who through grief for thee, weep and lament at thy threshold — 
 Were thine ear inclined to my coni])liiinings, how meet it woidd be ! 
 
 ^\^loso blame, and cry out against me for my love for thee — 
 Were they aware of thy beauty's perfection, how proper it would be ! 
 
 They who now boast, before the world, of their austerity and self- 
 control — 
 Were they to refrain from looking at thee, how seemly it would be I 
 
 After death, sliould my grave, in some such place Vie situated, 
 Where the path of the beautiful may ever lie, how delightfid it 
 woidd be ! 
 
 In thv alley, many greyhounds and other dogs are lying about — 
 ^Vere 1, too, accounted amongst them, how fortunate it would be ! 
 
 My grief for thee, cannot he quenched in this short existence — 
 Were the life of KnusHHAL to be very, very long, how fitting it 
 would be ! 
 
 U. 
 
 J?oth liiir and rosy, too, are tlie Adam Khel Afrldl maids ; 
 hxleed, amongst them, all sorts of pietty lasses tliere are — 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN. KHATTAK. 203 
 
 Witli large eyes, lony drooping lashes, and arched eyebrows — 
 Honey hps, rosy cheeks, and moon-like faces, too, liave the}'. 
 
 Small moiiths, like unto rose-buds, teeth regular and white — 
 Their heads round, and covered with dark curls, of amber redolent. 
 
 Their bodies soft and sleek, and like an egg, so smooth and glossy — 
 Their feet diminutive, their heels round, their hips prominent. 
 
 Thin stomached, broad chested, and small waisted — 
 
 In stature, straight, like the letter alif;"^ and of complexion foir. 
 
 Although my j^eregrinations may, like the falcon's, be among the 
 
 hills ; 
 Still, many pretty plum}) partridges my quarry I have made. 
 
 Young and untaught, or old and trained, the falcon seeketh his 
 
 prey ; 
 But more scientific, and more unerring, is the old bird's swoop. 
 
 It is either the water of the Laiiddaey river, or of the Barah stream,+ 
 That tasteth sweeter, and more delicious, than sherbet in my mouth. 
 
 The hills in the Matarl Pass % shoot straight up into the sky ; 
 And one's corpulence soon diminisheth, climbing and ascending 
 them. 
 
 Along with the Adam Khels into the Tl-rah country I came ; 
 And having dismissed them to Khwarrah, wdth regret I returned. 
 
 Love's affairs, Khushhal ! are fraught with fire to excess ; 
 For shouldst thou conceal the flame, the smoke thou still wilt see. 
 
 * The letter 1 {(dif), from its form, is adopted to denote straightness of 
 stature. 
 
 f See Poem XCVIIL, third note. 
 
 I The name of a pass or defile, leading into the Ti-r.ah country, held by 
 the AfrldT tribe of Afghans. 
 
204 KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 LIT. 
 
 Say not iinto me — " T\Tiy swearest thou by me V 
 If I swear not by thee, by whom shall I swear? 
 
 Thuii, intleetl, art the very light of miue eyes ; 
 This, by those black eyes of thine, I swear ! 
 
 Thy countenance is the clay — thy curls the night ; — 
 By the morn I swear ! and by the eve I swear ! 
 
 In this world, thou art my life and my soul, 
 
 And naught else besides ; unto thee, my life, I swear ! 
 
 Thou art, in truth, tlie all-engi-ossing idea of my mind, 
 Every hoiu- — every moment — by my God, I swear ! 
 
 The dust of thy feet is an ointment f(.)r the eyes — 
 By this very dust beneath thy feet, I swe;ir ! 
 
 My hciu't ever yeiu'ucth towards thee, exceedingly — 
 By this very yearning of mine, unto thee I swear ! 
 
 \Vlien thou lauulicst, they are nothing in comparison — 
 Both rubies and pearls,* l)y tliy laugh I swear ! 
 
 Tndy, I am thy lover, and thine, thine only : 
 And this, I, KhusuhaIv, by thv sweet face, swear! 
 
 LIII. 
 
 By the laughter of the hapjiy and the gay, I vow ! 
 And l)y the lament;itions of the woe-begone, I vow ! 
 
 * The rubies signify thi- lips, anil tlie jjearls the teeth. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 205 
 
 By the inebriation of the intoxicated with wine ; 
 And by the piety and abstinence of the monk, I vow ! 
 
 By the hundred transports of meeting and association, 
 And by the thousand miseries of separation, I vow ! 
 
 By the beautiful and fragrant roses of the spring, 
 And by the sweet melodies of the nightingales, I vow ! 
 
 Compared to which the graceful cypress is as nothing, 
 By that tall stature, and form symmetrical, I vow ! 
 
 That are tinged with the antimony of expression. 
 By those dark narcissus-like eyes, I vow ! 
 
 That wdiich is more slender, even, than a haii'. 
 By that delicately slight waist of thine, I vow ! 
 
 On accoimt of which, lovers pine away and die. 
 By that beauty, and by that elegance, I vow ! 
 
 By that which cometh from the direction of the beloved — 
 By the balmy breath of the morning breeze, I vow ! 
 
 Who is the bearer of the message for an interview, 
 By the footsteps of that bearer of glad tidings, I vow ! 
 
 In the which there is not the least insincerity, 
 
 By the truthfulness of the true and sincere, I vow ! 
 
 With the whole of these many oaths and protestations, 
 A hundred thousand times again and again, I vow 
 
 That I love thee far more dearly than life itself; 
 And this, by thyself, I, Khushhal, Khattak, vow ! 
 
'206 KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 TIjo Afghans have gone mud about posts and dignities ; 
 But God presen'e mc, from such phigues and troubles ! 
 
 Unto whom bclongcth the gift of discretion : to the swordsman > 
 Just the same as one leanietli the Kur'fin, in the schools? 
 
 Not one amongst them is gifted with the art of prudence ; 
 For, with the dispositions of all of them, I am well acquainted. 
 
 The Afghans have one very gi'cat failing, if thou l)ut notice — 
 That they, with the titles and dignities of the Mughals, coquet. 
 
 Shame and rc|)utation, fame and honour, are of no account ; 
 l»ut, certainly, they talk enough about offices, rank, and gold. 
 
 Tjook not towards the Mughals with the eyes of cupidity ; 
 Even, if in the habit of doing so, from any other cause ! 
 
 The tinisty Khattak! sword is buckled round my waist : 
 But not the custom of servitude, in village and in town. 
 
 The ilark niglit of Aurangzeb's prison, I hold in remembrance,* 
 WTicn all the night long, "0 God ! God !" continually, I cried. 
 
 If the A fg hans would but oppose the Mughals with the swoi^d, 
 Every Khattak. by tlie l)ridle-rein, should lead a Mughal away. 
 
 Amongst the Khattaks. Knusnn.lL ! no council of honour e.xisteth ; 
 Hence, I cannot conceive from what linejigc they have s])rung. 
 
 LV. 
 
 A \\hit(' l>o:iid is a mark of respectability among men ; 
 But the falling out of the teeth is a disoi-edit and repi-oach. 
 
 • See j»nge 142. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 207 
 
 Wlioii a man's tectli are in tlieir i)lace, tliouuh tlic hoard bo white, 
 There is no old a.u'O in that ; far from it, tliere is yonthfidness. 
 
 Let not tlie old man trouble himself concerning old age, 
 If his eyesight be good, and free from all signs of failing. 
 
 What is the sight of a sweetheart, unto an old man 1 
 lleally and truly, it is mununj^""' for the wounds of the heart. 
 
 Would the monk ever relincjuish love entirely 1 No, no ! 
 Fnto it, he cannot attain ; hence his devotion and piety. 
 
 Although the age of Kkushiial hath gone beyond seventy years ; 
 Yet, in his heart, are still, love and affection for the fixir. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 When thou severest thyself from cu2:)idity with regard to every one, 
 
 it is sovereignty : 
 If thou understandest silence, it is equal to the eloquence of Sahban.+ 
 
 ^lention not a word, regarding Hatim's liberality and munificence y^ 
 For, even in so doing, there are, indeed, indications of venality. 
 
 How many difl^crent kinds do the attributes of friendship embrace '? 
 Lip-friendship — loaf-friendship — and friendship from the soul. 
 
 Upon the altar of sincere friends, make all things an oblation ; 
 Indeed, for this alone, is the transitory world of any use. 
 
 In the troubles and trials of the world, there is much gain ; 
 But in the gain of the world's wealth, there are misery and woe. 
 
 * Mummy — the substance with which Egyptian mummies are pre- 
 served, a medicine held in great estimation in Oriental countries for 
 wounds and fractures. 
 
 t A celebrated Arabian poet, famous for his eloquence. 
 
 J The name of an Arab, celebrated throughout the East for his liberality 
 and munificence. 
 
208 KHUSHHAL KHAN. KHATTAK. 
 
 They, who treat both friend and foe, with gentleness and humanity, 
 The lives of those men arc, indeed, admirably and worthily passed. 
 
 Whatsoever my dwelling contained, I entirely relinquished — 
 Such is the extent of my hospitality, my own friends toward. 
 
 The priest readeth, again and again, out of thousands of books ; 
 But if the true fiiith be his study, the letter alif* is enough. 
 
 Even for the ignorant, KnusHHii. ! there is mercy — 
 
 Their ignorance and stupidity, are a sufficient excuse for them ! 
 
 LVir. 
 
 Altho' happiness was a delicious food ; lo, 't is all passed away ! 
 Though k)rdly power was an elegant garment ; lo, 't is all passed 
 away ! 
 
 Ah ho' there were the ties of wife and child, this is their state now : 
 Altho' there were life and abiding amongst mankind ; lo, 't is all 
 passed away ! 
 
 Altho' I possessed both niuk and dignity, chieftainship, and com- 
 mand — 
 
 Altho' lands anil possessions were mine ; lo, thoy all have passed 
 awa}- ! 
 
 Altho' in my houses were carpets and divans, embellishments and 
 
 ornaments — 
 Althu' my couch, too, was perfumed with a'atr;\ lo, all have i)assod 
 
 away ! 
 
 * The letter ' {alif) is an emblem of the Ahuiglity — the Uiif luul Only, 
 t Attar of rose.-*. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 209 
 
 When I used to return home from the cliasc, hi pride and gaiety, 
 My saddle-straps were ever red with the lilood of the game ; but, lo, 
 't is passed away ! 
 
 Kinsmen and strangers — the good and the bad, from all directions, 
 
 came : 
 In my audience-hall were bustle and clamour ; biit, lo, all is passed 
 
 away ! 
 
 Scattered and dispersed, the fiimily of Akliorr Khel * struck camp, 
 
 and depai'ted : 
 At this noise, my heart-strings broke ; Init, lo, 'tis all passed away ! 
 
 Unto him, 't is now the day of moiu"ning — of sackcloth and of 
 
 ashes ; 
 For SaraCjt that was the home of Khushhal, is now all passed 
 
 away ! 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 The sword that is sharpened, without doubt, is for smiting ; is it 
 
 not? 
 The locks that are curled, certes, are for one's own lover ; are they 
 
 not? 
 
 Wherefore sayest thou unto me, "Cast not thine eyes upon the 
 
 fair!" 
 The eyes that have been given one, doubtless are for seeing ; are 
 
 they not 1 
 
 Let the monk fast and pray ; but I will the flowing goblet seize : 
 Every man is created to fulfil, each his own part ; is he not ? 
 
 * The family of the Khattak trilie in which the chieftainship was, and 
 still is hereditary. 
 
 I See note at page 193 . 
 
 P 
 
210 KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 Th(»n wast sayiiiL', that the kissing of thy lips is like unto an 
 
 elixir — 
 I stand in need of such : 't is for the wounds of the heart ; is it not 1 
 
 Thou drinkcst niv verj- heart's blood; but it is for none else 
 
 besides — 
 My heart was formed for thee, thou barbarous one ! was it not? 
 
 Whv weepest and complainest thou about the dark curls of the 
 
 beloved ? 
 Thy going before those black snakes,* is of thine own accord ; is it 
 
 not? 
 
 They will themselves appear like tnito mere weeds in compainson 
 
 to it — 
 Then, the tulip and the rose thou wilt bring before thy face ; wilt 
 
 thou not 1 
 
 Tliere is wine, KncsHnAi. ! there are hai-p and flute ; therefore, 
 
 with thy beloved, 
 With thy tablets in tliy hand, unto the garden thou wilt go ; wilt 
 
 thou not ? 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Every misfortune that befell me, throughout the whole jieriod of 
 
 my life, 
 When I'xaniined carefully, T fomid it was all the work of my 
 
 toiiguo. 
 
 That, which in a single hour, turneth prosjierity unto desolation, 
 When well looked into, I found it was^jtrecipitancy in affaii-s. 
 
 * TliP long curls of the hair of tlie Af;jhiln females, often readiing 
 I»cln\\ tl»e waist, are coinpared to black snakes. See note at"page 130. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN. KHATTAK. 211 
 
 Witli these eves of mine, I have l)chehl the friendship of every one ; 
 And, truly, he wlio -was my friend proved a soiu'ce of misfortune 
 unto me. 
 
 He would never experience any perfidy or duplicity, at any time, 
 If a man's own intentions were conformable unto honesty and 
 truth. 
 
 Fortune showeth not severity towards the submissive and re- 
 signed — 
 
 Those, who are impatient and unsteady, tlie persecntions of destiny 
 pursue. 
 
 Within this garden, veiy many roses have passed before mine eyes ; 
 But at the side of every rose, I perceived there was a thoni also. 
 
 The heart, that nourished the hope of constancy from the un- 
 faithful, 
 Was unto itself, indeed, its own tyrant, and its own oppressor too. 
 
 Since it healeth not at all, although ointment is applied unto it, 
 ^\^lat sort of grief- wound was there the heai*t of Khushhal upon 1 
 
 LX. 
 
 Whoso acquireth wealth, speudeth it, and bestoweth it, a man is he : 
 "\Mioso hath a sword in his possession, the lord of the sword is he. 
 
 A mine of rubies, of garnets, and of other gems, what is it after all I 
 That, from which bounty and beneficence are obtained, is a mine. 
 
 AMiatsoever thou eatest for the belly's sake alone, is thrown away ; 
 But what is eaten, in sociability and companionship, is the fare. 
 
 Whether it is the power of wealth, of lands, or of authority, what 
 
 then ? 
 If imto iiny one their power becometh useful, that is power indeed. 
 
 p 2 
 
212 KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 Thro%'hout the whole night and day — throughout both month and 
 
 year, 
 Tlio time that passeth in the remembrance uf the Almighty, is 
 
 time truly. 
 
 Though peoj)lc run before thee, and others follow after, what is 
 
 that ? 
 When in the individual person there is dignity, that dignity is real. 
 
 Call none else besides degenerate and imdone, Khcshhal ! 
 Whoso word and promise are broken, undone and degenerate is he ! 
 
 LXI. 
 
 The call of the mu'azzin* is not to be heard thnnighout Tl-rah,t 
 Unless thou hsten imto the crowing of the cock, at the dawn of 
 day. 
 
 As to the WurakzTs, they are, altogether, from orthodoxy astray ; 
 And the Afrldls,;^ than those erring ones, are more heretical still. 
 
 They neither say prayers over the dead, nor ministci-s have the}' ; 
 Nor alms, nor offerings, nor the fear of God within their heai*ts. 
 
 Excellent is he, wlio is steadfast in the laws and precepts of the 
 Prophet ; 
 
 But wicked is he, who is unsteady and wavering in their obser- 
 vance. 
 
 * A crier, who summons the Faithful to prayer, by proclamation from 
 the minaret of a mosque. 
 
 t The name of a small district to the west of Peshawar, and south of 
 the Khaibar Pass. 
 
 I Two of the tliree independent tribes of the Khaibaris, altogether 
 about 1*20,000 souls, who hold tlie Khaibar Pass. They are the most 
 uncoutli and uncivilized of the Afghan tribes. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN. KHATTAK. 213 
 
 The affairs of the world are all of them transitory and fleeting : 
 If there is anything eternal, verily, 't is the name of the Most High. 
 
 Whoso is wholly sunk in the cares and concerns of the world, 
 As for that sou, remiss and reckless, alas ! alas ! we can only say. 
 
 By means of water, impurity is from the person cleansed ; 
 But by contrition and repentance alone, is sin washed away. 
 
 The believers in Sufi mystics,* and the unbelievers are all one ; 
 For they both account, as iniquity, the laws and precepts of 
 Muhammad. 
 
 Now and then, upon an occasion, this much they ejaculate — 
 Some few among them — that, " There is, than God, none other 
 God." 
 
 Whoso at all times commit sin, and no rej)entance show. 
 Refuge and protection, from such a people, is what Khushhal 
 asketh. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 Everywhere, throughout the world, I am become dishonom-ed and 
 
 humiliated — 
 House by house, my dissoluteness, and my profligacy, are manifest 
 
 grown. 
 
 That which I kept closely covered up, concealed wdthin my sleeve,t 
 The people of the world have come, the spectacle of that goblet to 
 behold. 
 
 This is no heart at all, that now entertaineth kindness towards me ; 
 But that adamantine stone, towards me, hath somewhat softer grown. 
 
 * See Introductory Remarks, for an account of the Sufis and their 
 tenets. 
 
 f Long and wide sleeves are worn in the East. 
 
214 KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 That which was the capital stock of life, I renounced entirely ; 
 And the country of happiness and felicity, became farmed to me. 
 
 Wherefore, now, should I regret or complain 1 for I triimiphed, 
 AMicn the marplot became a fugitive, from the door of the beloved. 
 
 I appreciate his worth, and I will make myself a sacrifice imto him, 
 "Who, in grief and sorrow, became tlie siistainer of the helpless, and 
 forlorn. 
 
 Unto sleeping fortime many times I cried out with a loud voice ; 
 13ut it awakened from its slumber, only, upon the last soft, gentle 
 call. 
 
 Separation fruu) them is death itself — and man soon breatheth his 
 
 last ; 
 But the society of the heart's idols, hath a second existence become. 
 
 Tliongh he puttcth his heart upon its guard, yet it will not be 
 
 ])rudent ; 
 Hence, Khu.shhal is accoimted now, among the ci-azy, and the mad. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 T?e content with thine own lot, and do not always envy the fortune 
 
 of otlicrs ! 
 ShoiUdst thou secure both these things, may liappiness and 
 
 affluence bo thine ! 
 
 The links of existence are bound together by a single flimsy thread 
 
 aU)ue : 
 Leave tlie world's sorrows : why mouni for others 1 Weep for thy 
 
 thyself! 
 
 Whetlicr thine own kith and kin, or strangei-s. draw thy pen tliro' all : 
 It is the age of iniquity and depravity ; so be not vain of brother, 
 or of son. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN. KHATTAK. 215 
 
 In whatever direction I wend my way, I perceive snch acts from 
 
 them — ■ 
 The attainment of their wishes is on to-day, and gone is all concern 
 
 for to-morrow. 
 
 Behold ! what blasting wind is it, that hath blown over all the 
 
 world ? 
 The heart waxeth not kind to any one ; and the whole world is 
 
 deceitfid grown ! 
 
 I was saying that the hamlet is peopled, but, lo ! when I came near 
 
 unto it. 
 Mere rubliish is lying about — it was an utterly desolate and deserted 
 
 abode. 
 
 In whatever direction thou goest, pass them by with " God preserve 
 
 us!" 
 They have a hundred evils in their hearts, a hundred-bead rosary 
 
 round their necks. 
 
 j\Iuch traffic hath been effected, and a hundred demands with avidity 
 
 made ; 
 But the time of evening prayer is come, therefore now let this mart 
 
 be closed. 
 
 Thou art always saying, Khushhal ! " Upon the world I will turn 
 
 m.y back 3" 
 But as yet, indeed, this world is still standing face to face with thee. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 AVhether it is the wise man, or the ignorant — the honest man, or the 
 
 robber, 
 I do not see any one a true colleague united with me in my task.* 
 
 * This was written durinji- his wars with the Mughals. 
 
216 KHUSllHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 A sincere friend in distress, I cannot discover throughout the land ; 
 For people merely give the empty consolation of their tongues. 
 
 Like unto the ants, directed towards the grain are the steps 
 Of those who favour me, with their coming, and their going. 
 
 Did not these ants entertain the hope of obtaining a store, 
 Tliey would never make any journey in tliat direction, at all. 
 
 Abandon not tliine own stricken mountain-land, Kh ushhal ! 
 Though blood is, at ever}' footstep, and in every direction shed. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 Let the mouth of the liar, forsooth, be filled with dust ; 
 But kiss the man's mouth, that uttereth truthful words ! 
 
 Every deed that a man doetJi shall not be concealed : 
 
 Did any one tell thee to kindle a fire, and make no smoke 1 
 
 If thnii knowest that there is a reckoning in the next world, 
 Then mind to scmitinize well thine own acts in this also. 
 
 The fountain of thy mouth is both colocynth and honey; 
 'I'herefore, sec tliou pour out thy sweetness every one upon. 
 
 \\ hen the att'airs of reUgion, and of the world come before thee; 
 l)cft)rL' worldly matters, first those of thy religion discharge. 
 
 In tirdrr that the fragrance of the musk-pod be disseminated, 
 Show unto me those dark tresses and sable ringlets of thine. 
 
 'T is the season of spring ! cupbearer, bring, bring the wine! 
 And add tlui dclici()us dessert of thy lips thereunto. 
 
 Do not, tonlay, U Zealot ! impede the drinking of pure wine ; 
 When the spring shall have i)assed away, then jirohibit it. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 217 
 
 Since it is not free, for a moment, from the fire of love, 
 Hast thoii, God ! the lover's breast a chafing-dish made 1 
 
 In the era of thy sweet countenance, I am Jahangir Shah — 
 Sit near mito me : practise the caresses of Nur Mahal !* 
 
 These dark eyes of thine are, in themselves, black calamities ; 
 Who, then, told thee to make them still more so with kohl If 
 
 Shoiddst thou, Khushhal ! profess sanctity a thousand times, 
 "When a pretty creature cometh near thee, to kiss her take care ! 
 
 LXVL 
 
 Thy society is like unto the sea, and I, a fish therein ; 
 But, separated from thee, I lament and bewail always. 
 
 Weeping, I would ask her to let me her fair cheek press ; 
 But, laughing, she woidd ask, "What doth this man say? 
 
 She asked, too, " Who art thou, that wanderest in my street 1" 
 To which, " Thy dog am I ;" — thus to her a ready reply I gave. 
 
 I grieve in various ways, and my body hath a reed become : 
 Separation hath brought me to the plaintive pipe's condition.^ 
 
 Alas ! alas ! that this spring-time of youth is past ! 
 Ah ! that this spring continued in the world for aye ! 
 
 * Jahangir Shah, signifpng- " the world-conquering king-," is the title 
 assumed by the fourth Mughal Emperor of India, and son of Akbar. Nur 
 Mahal, " the Ught of the haram," is the name of his favourite queen. 
 
 f Antimony, used in Oriental countries to increase the blackness of the 
 eyes, by applying it to the lids. See " Lane's Moderx Esyptians." 
 
 I The reed or pipe is an emblem of slightness and weakness, and the 
 utterer of jilaintive sounds. 
 
218 KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 The rose, the hyacinth, the \v-ild rose, the tiilip, and the buds — 
 Thou didst bring with thee, on thy coming, the whole spring. 
 
 AMien I j>ress her untu my besom, she looketh towards me. 
 Like a young gazelle inebriated with the milk of its dam. 
 
 When I die, I shall never see these sweet friends any more ; 
 Then let me, God, remain in this world for ever ! 
 
 I grieve, indeed, for thy honour alone, not for myself : 
 Thou shouldst see how I woidd act, had I not this solicitude. 
 
 Thus severed from thee, in the fire I bum and consume, 
 Like unto the dry fuel, that one castcth into the fliimes. 
 
 Upon the beauty of the fays many encomiums are lavished ; 
 But I see not any faiiy with so lovely a foce as thine. 
 
 There is no epithet that can express thy charming ways : 
 Would that, to thy lover, thou didst a little tenderness show ! 
 
 Is there an anvil in tin' breast, or a kind, benevolent heart. 
 That, for the sighs of Khushhal, thou showest no sympathy? 
 
 LXVIl. 
 
 Upon the difficult path of love, there is exceeding peril : 
 Evciy footstep I take thereon, my life in danger I place. 
 
 Shouldst thou my bosom rend asunder, thou wilt perceive, 
 That, thro' giief for thee, my whole heart is turned to blood. 
 
 The genial rain of thy kindness falleth not upon me, 
 
 Tliat the seed of thy love, planted in my heart, might genninate. 
 
 Thy treasui'ed secret, even unto my tongue, I will not impart ; 
 For the secret, that hath reached the tongue, is ever a fireside tale. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 219 
 
 1 am igiaonuit with regard to love, as to what thing it is ; 
 But this much I licar, that from beauty its effect proceedeth. 
 
 But who is he, that, uuto the love ineffable, hath attained 1 
 Tho' in this matter, indeed, every one boasteth of success. 
 
 It was when thou and I were not, that love was born : 
 
 ' T is not that this influence hath been originated by thee and me. 
 
 Hide, KnusHHAL, from the world, the woes of love ! 
 But how can I conceal that, which it knoweth full well 1 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 I was not, at first, aware, that thou art so utterly inconstant — 
 Thou makest a hundi'ed vows a day, and still art heedless of 
 them all. 
 
 The world raiseth au outcry against me, who have given my heart 
 
 to thee ; 
 But ' t is not aware what a lovely, bewitching creatiu-e thou art. 
 
 And thou, too, that sayest unto me, " Look not upon the fair" — 
 Who will giA'e ear mato such deadly words as those thou utterest '? 
 
 A single hair of the head of one's beloved is more precious than the 
 
 Hui'i's* — 
 ^^^lat use is it, then, priest ! to laud the virgins of Paradise, 
 
 tmto me ? 
 
 Not eveiy crow and kite, but the nightingale appreciateth the 
 
 rose's value ; 
 Then ask not, fool ! what sort of person hath thus enamoured me. 
 
 * The black-eved virg'ins of the Muhammadan Paradise. 
 
220 KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 These are not black eyes, that have carried away my yearaing 
 
 lieart — 
 Thou, God ! — All-wise, All-seeing — knowest they are calamities 
 
 greater still. 
 That is not a mole upon thy chin, nor are those dark dishevelled 
 
 tresses : 
 They are, if thou canst comprehend this saying, a mystery divine. 
 
 Whether the censures of the world, or people's woi"st upbraidings ; 
 All these, I willingly accept, if thou art but reconciled to me. 
 
 1 will light no lamp in my dwelling to-night, that they may not 
 
 suspect — 
 These neighboiu's of the Sama'li* — that thou art a guest of mine. 
 
 I was saying, I would tell thee my heart's sorrows, when thou 
 
 earnest ; 
 But what gi'iffs shall I mention, when thou, the grief-dispeller, 
 
 art near? 
 
 Since thou tossest luito the wind the musk-pods of tliy fragrant 
 
 tresses, 
 KouRnnir., full well kuoweth, that thou art a doer of Khata-f 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 'T is grief and sorrow — joy and gladness, that affect so deej^ly ; 
 But like as they arc excessive, even so they pass away. 
 
 The source of this link cannot be fi>und by any inio : 
 The vicis-sitiules of fortune assume such manifold fonns. 
 
 * Pee first note nt p. M^'^. 
 
 •f KU'itil or Khiitay, the iiortlicni part of China, or Chinese Tirtarv, 
 fiimourt for it.s musk aiul iiretty daiusi-ls. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 221 
 
 So many things will happen — so many incidents beMl, 
 As may never have entered the thoughts of thine heaii;. 
 
 In absence, there is sorrow on account of the beloved, 
 
 That, continually, encircleth and besetteth the afflicted heart. 
 
 But whatsoever hath vanished from the eyesight away, 
 That, too, at last, becometh forgotten by the heart. 
 
 Let them that ridicule the words of Khushhal, beware ! 
 Perhaps they may themselves full soon like him become. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 "Wlioso like unto the dust, may not be prostrate at the threshold. 
 For them, there will be no approach unto heaven and to bliss. 
 
 The nightingale that bewaileth when he approacheth the rose. 
 Thus saith : — "Alas, some day the parterre will cease to be !" 
 
 The rent in my heart will, by no means, unite again, 
 
 Till it shall be sewn together, with the thread of thy locks. 
 
 The name of thy tresses I will ne'er take upon my tongue again ; 
 For the prudent snake-charmer hath naught with black snakes to do. 
 
 Be not inferior unto the Hindu female, for the honour of thy 
 
 beloved ; 
 For the blazing funeral p}T"e will have no terrors for her.* 
 
 Eveiy moment, that I behold the object of my love, is a jubilee 
 
 to me : 
 I shall then be without a festival, when my beloved may not be. 
 
 * The Hindu women boldly and fearlessly mount the funeral pyre of 
 their deceased husbands, for what they consider honour's sake. 
 
222 KHCSHHAL KHJJN, KHATTAK. 
 
 Upon what part of me wilt thou place a plaster, physician ! 
 "Wlien the wound of the eyelashes of the beloved may not be seen 1 
 
 Tlie name <»f love is unlawful upon the lips of him, 
 
 AMiose whole frame may not l)e suffering about his beloved. 
 
 KnusHHlL ! let there be no estrangement between thy love 
 
 and thee ; 
 For the world's short Ikhu- will not be innnutable always. 
 
 LXXl. 
 
 When the tresses become dishevelled about her foir, white face. 
 The bright day becometh shrouded in evening's sombre shade. 
 
 If this, which is seen, be the beauty of her countenance, 
 VeiT many more, like unto me, will gi-ow distracted fur her. 
 
 Tliose are not tears pendant from her long eycla.shes ; 
 They arc all bright gems and pearls, that are being bored. 
 
 With new tints and dyes, fresh fragi-ance, and gi-een young leaves. 
 An astonishingly rare flower is blooming, the parterre within. 
 
 Should ho, wlio is wont to repose upon her tresses, be aware 
 Of my tears and sighs, lie would in sleep never close his eye. 
 
 The words of KjiugHHiL's mouth arc not idle and meaningless — 
 They all are spoken from a certain emotion of the heart. 
 
 LXXl I. 
 
 If the damsels of KashniTr are famed for their beauty. 
 Or those of Chin, or Ma-chin,* or Turtary, noted likewise : 
 
 " Chinn ami Cbiiie.sp Tfirtarv, famous for hoautiful women. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 223 
 
 Yet the sweet Afghan maidens, that mine eyes have beheld, 
 Put all the others to shame, by their condnct and ways. 
 
 As to their comeliness, this, once for all, is the fact of the matter, 
 That they are, in lineage, of the tribe and posterity of Yaaskub.* 
 
 Of the fragrance of nmsk, or of rosewater, they have no need — 
 They are, as the ottar of the perfumer, by prayer five times a dav. 
 
 "NMiether jewels for forehead or for neck, or any other trinkets, 
 All these are contemptible, with their dark locks compared. 
 
 Whether veils of gold brocade, or whether silken mantles. 
 All are a sacrifice nnto the snow-white kerchief of theirs. 
 
 The beanty of their minds excelleth their personal charms — 
 Than the external form, their hearts are far sweeter still. 
 
 From first to last, their occupation is in sechxsiou and privacy ; 
 Not seen in the markets, with garments open, and persons exposed. f 
 
 They cannot look one full in the face, through modesty — 
 They are unused to abuse, and the discipline of the shoe.;}; 
 
 Krushhal hath mentioned, more or less, somewhat of the matter ; 
 But much remaineth, that may be suitable, or unsuitable to the case. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 If the Afghan people are of the human race. 
 In disposition and ways they are very Hindus. § 
 
 • * The patriarch Jacob. 
 
 f Referring- to the scanty gannents of the women of India. 
 
 J Indian husbands chastise their wives with a shoe for very trivial 
 matters. 
 
 § In a contemptuous sense, as sold unto gold and infidelity. 
 
224 KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 They are possessed of neither skill, nor intellect ; 
 But are happy in ignorance, and in strife. 
 
 Neither do they obey the words of their fathers ; 
 Nor do they unto the teacher's instruction give ear. 
 
 ^\lien there may be one worthy man amongst them, 
 They are the destroyers of his head and life. 
 
 They ever lie in wait, one to injure the other ; 
 Hence they are, always, by calamity, remembered. 
 
 Tliey neither possess worth, nor do others esteem them, 
 Though they are more numerous than locusts or than ants. 
 
 Fii-st I, then others, as many as there may be — 
 We all of us require aid, and a helping hand. 
 
 A\Tiether it is valour, or whether liberality, 
 
 They have cast, through dissension, the botli away. 
 
 But still, Khushhal ! thank God for this, 
 That they are not slaves, but free-born men. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 Vain is his affectation respecting the end of his turban ;* 
 For in the time of his manhood his condition is clian<rod. 
 
 Tlic rank of all will not be on a parity togethor — 
 
 The bunion of the ass is but a gnxin on the elephant's back. 
 
 AVliilst some have not a single drop of wine in their cups, 
 The goblets of others are ruiuiiug over with the jiurest wine. 
 
 * There is a good deal of foppeiy manifested in the East regarding the 
 tail or termination of the turban, which hanirs beliind. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. ' 225 
 
 May this delightful gai'deu for ever fresli and green continue ; 
 For every year do lovely and fragi'ant flowers bloom therein. 
 
 The just value of the tree is known from its fruit's sweetness — 
 A man's worth is discovered by his good and virtuous acts. 
 
 Let no one, indeed, be blamed and rebuked in i justly — 
 The enemy of the wicked is their own wicked deeds alone. 
 
 Though they shoiUd transport one to Heaven, and bear another 
 
 unto Hell, 
 I cannot perceive in the matter aught save their own acts. 
 
 Would to Heaven it might continue always, for thy sake ! 
 Since thou art at odds with every one, for the sake of the world. 
 
 That sou who may not inlierit the virtues of his fother and grand- 
 father. 
 Must have been born in an unlucky and unfortunate year. 
 
 And thou, that boastest concerning the battle-field of the brave — 
 What valour, what fortitiide, hast thou ever brought to the field I 
 
 Doth the gnat ever attain unto the high rank of the falcon, 
 Even though he is furnished, both with feathers and with wings 1 
 
 Though all the world may agree to disparage, and speak ill of him. 
 Poor Khushhal is KhushhIl* in his own merits and integrity. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 Like as I my dear one love, there will not be another so loving : 
 Like as I am disconsolate for her, there will be none other sr) 
 wTetched. 
 
 * The poet's name signifies 'happy;' hence the play upon the word 
 here, which would lose by transhition. 
 
 Q 
 
22G KHCSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 She herself killcth me, hulee<l, uud tlien again she mourneth 
 
 over me — 
 How good a friend ! how great her love ! such be my death and 
 
 eleg}' ! 
 
 A perfect garden is her lovely face, containing flowers of every hue : 
 Enjoy spring's pleasant time ; for garden such as this, none other 
 will there be ! 
 
 Behold the tulip — that heart-seared flower — in blood ensanguined !* 
 No martyr, fn^m time's beginning, e'er donned such winding-sheet ! 
 
 Look upon those her sable locks, and upon both those lovely 
 
 cheeks ! 
 Within the world's parterre arc no such spikenards, no such lilies 
 
 found, t 
 
 Shouldst thou a mantle from the rose-leaves make, even they 
 
 would irritate : 
 Like unto this delicate body of thine, no one such another pos- 
 
 sesseth. 
 
 Such as that, which both day and night, I behold, my dwelling 
 
 within, 
 I'oor Majnun, during life's whole course, will never have looked upon. 
 
 If such the law, or such her custom be, the Hindu female's right 
 is constancy, 
 
 That sittoth down upon her lover's pyre : what other would such 
 burning liear ?J 
 
 * This would appear to refer to the dark red tulip. 
 f The liyacintli or sj)ikeuard is tompared to the dark lock3, and the 
 lily or jasmine to the fairness of the face of the beloved one. 
 I See note at page 221. 
 
khushhAl khan, khattak. 227 
 
 That some one, in sorrow, might wring her hands, and weep and 
 
 wail for thee. 
 Such is not death, but Hfe itself, if such thy death might l)e. 
 
 The bliss of Irani* I enjo3-ed, the precincts of thy courts within. 
 Delighted with foi'tune and fate, that such a home to Khushhal 
 gave. 
 
 In Persian, thou must know, sucli strains will not be heard. 
 
 As those that Khushhal, Khattak, reoitoth, in the Puslito tongue. 
 
 LXXVT. 
 
 It is the navigator, that guidcth the ship upon the ocean ; 
 
 But it is the Almighty, that preserveth her, or sinketh her therein. 
 
 Empire and domiiiion, upon fortime and destiny depend — 
 'T is the Huma of happy omen, that casteth its shadow o'er one's 
 head.f 
 
 Verily, if any one should stand in need of aught from another. 
 Though the sovereign of the universe, he is but a beggar still. 
 
 "Wlio told thee not to unloose the knots of difficulty thereby '? 
 
 For thought and deliberation ai-e the unloosers of all men's troubles. 
 
 'T is either the sound of the women's joy-songs, at the child's birth ; 
 Or 'tis the dirge, and the wails, from the sword's fatal field ! 
 
 He will be under no uneasiness about missing the right M'ay, 
 Who, as the companion of his journey, may have a trusty guide. 
 
 'T is the reed, wholly dried up, breast-scarred, and void within, 
 That giveth utterance to separation's plaintive wails. 
 
 * An earthly paradise, a fnbiilnus gnrden in Arabia. 
 I See note at pnge \fi7. 
 
'228 KHL'SHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 It behoveth to look to the virtues aud qualities of the beloved, 
 'Though her beauty be most ravishing, in manifold ways. 
 
 Thou, nightingale ! laudest her with a thousand songs ; 
 But the rose hci-self, is self-praising of her own loveliness. 
 
 Whether gardeus, or whether wilds, or any other place soever — 
 Where the heart hath become Khu-shhal,* that is the happy spot ! 
 
 LXXVll. 
 
 Since those dark eyes of thine are such enchanters. 
 My boastings of devotion and piety are wholly unjust. 
 
 With these eyes I have beheld such Afghan maidens, 
 That he is in error, who laudeth the damsels of Khatay. 
 
 Verily, those hearts must l)e hard like the stones of the desert, 
 That may look upon thy fi\ce, and feel not love for thee. 
 
 Notwithstanding folks praise the fairies so exceedingly. 
 With thy grace and beauty, by whom are they compared ? 
 
 As to the Hurls of Paradise, that the preachei"s remind us of, 
 In this world, such have I seen, with these eyes of mine. 
 
 Either 1 will obtain possession of those tresses for myself. 
 
 Or I'll stake my life upon them ; and these my two vows are. 
 
 Speak not unto Khushh.\l of honour and reputation ; 
 For thov, wli(^ are in love, care not for name or fame. 
 
 * As before statid, tlic iiaiiic of flie poet signifies 'happy;' hence, 
 " where tlie heart luii btcuiiie liapj)y," is the meaning above. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 229 
 
 Lxxvm. 
 
 The vicious are Adcious, while yet in the womb of their mothers ; 
 And vile and vicious are they, when their mothers bring them forth. 
 
 In this world, they live and subsist in wickedness and iniquity ; 
 And unto the next, they must, wretched and miserable, go. 
 
 When they do any laudable action, they are uuhapp}^ thereat ; 
 But are overjoyed at what is reprehensible, whatever its degree. 
 
 They pursue the path which the lusts of the flesh point out to them ; 
 Indeed, their following is after the devil, in every act and deed. 
 
 Shoidd they at any time take a footstep in the right road, 
 Immediately, at the next step, they are sorry for it again. 
 
 The books of heaven, and the books of earth, they read and learn ; 
 But their acts are as remote therefrom, as the heavens from earth. 
 
 Internally, their hearts are imbued with scepticism and distrust — 
 Externally, they are followers of Islam, by the words of their mouths. 
 
 Nothing good or kind, is discoverable in their conversation : 
 Their creed is empty words — ^their promise to be evaded, or 
 luiblushingly denied. 
 
 Though, in devotion and adoration, they may equal Balseam,* 
 Even then, through giving ear unto carnality, they are infidels at 
 last. 
 
 * "Balseam (Balaam), son of Beor, who, being requested by his nation 
 to curse Moses and the children of Israel, refused at first, saying-, " How can 
 I curse those whom the angels protect V But afterwards he was prevailed 
 upon hj gifts ; and he had no sooner done what they wished, than he 
 began to put out his tongue like a dog, and it hung down upon his 
 breast." — Al Beidawi, Jalal-ud-din, Al Zamakhshari. 
 
230 KHUSHHAL KHAX, KHATTAK. 
 
 The huinlile Kcrvaiit of tliat man, I Kbushhal, Khattak, am, 
 The wavs of \vhf>se heart are in Cf)nformitv with his words. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 However toi-tuously the siiakc iiioveth alxnit, 
 It proeeedetli straiirht enoujili unto its liole. 
 
 Awaken from the sleep of thoughtlessness ; 
 
 For pleasant existence is every moment passing away ! 
 
 Relentless death will imf pass any man over — 
 Time by time, all creation will pass away ! 
 
 The traveller, knowingly, throweth away his life, 
 AVho vcntureth into total darkness without a guide. 
 
 He misseth his footsteps, and staggereth in his gait, 
 ANHio, convicted ()f crime, before the Ka/T proceedeth. 
 
 He rendereth the fire of Hell liarmless, altogether, 
 From whose eyes the tears fall, at the dawn of day. 
 
 That existence, like as the wind, i)asseth away. 
 Which, more or less, pa.s.seth in misery and woe. 
 
 It' resignation be shown unto the Divine decrees, 
 Verily, soitow and gi-ief will vanish from the heart. 
 
 Since thou luust flung, uselessly, the musk away, 
 What rigoiu" bringest thou, the camphor upon?* 
 
 He, who hath neither wealth nor ])OSsessions to care for, 
 (ioeth about, everj'where, cheerful, autl free tVoni care. 
 
 * Mii>k liere vsignifie.s ' youtli,' when tlie hair is of the colour of musk 
 and ciiiuiilKir, * old age.' whi'u flic liiiir turns silvery. 
 
khushhAl khan, khattak. 231 
 
 Abandon not, O Khushhal ! His footmarks, 
 Though thy head, like that of the pen, should go.* 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 ( .'ertainly this man is, thro' polish and good breeding, a human 
 
 being ; 
 For he, who is not possessed of these, is no better than the beast of 
 
 the field. 
 
 They are not men, who may not inherit either faithfulness or 
 
 constancy ; 
 Otherwise the dog, in these matters, is far more estimable than 
 
 tliey. 
 
 The just and conscientious are, unto me, as the flowers of Paradise's 
 
 parterre ; 
 But the false and tyrannical are, unto me, as the fuel of the fire of 
 
 Hell. 
 
 When the dog groweth familiar with any one, and obtaineth some- 
 thing to eat, 
 
 At him, he will never bark nor growl again, as long as his life may 
 last. 
 
 He, who is with justice and equity endowed, need have no fear of 
 
 Hell; 
 And justice, in my sight, is far more important than even piety 
 
 itself. 
 
 From good nature and qualities, the estimation of a man's worth is 
 
 formed ; 
 For, by disposition, a man is either a devil, or an angel — a fiend, 
 
 or a fay. 
 
 * Referring to the nib of a pen. 
 
232 KHL'SHHAL KUAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 Flee speedily from him, wlio may possess neither learning nor 
 
 attainments ; 
 For the man, without knowledge and information, is but a straw. 
 
 When he cannot be restrained by thy counsels, nor be guided by thy 
 
 advice. 
 Fetters are required to control him, even though he a lion may be. 
 
 What, iiuleed, is either vice or virtue — riglit or \\Tong, atheists 
 
 unto ? 
 According to the creed they follow, the dog's whelp is an innocent 
 
 laiiili. 
 
 In the sunshine of prosperity, the sincerity of friends cannot be 
 
 tested ; 
 But they are thy Mends, who help thee, in adversity, thy load to 
 
 sustain. 
 
 Every iiscetic, who without a spiritual guide, assumeth u life of 
 
 austerity, 
 In the estimation of Khushhai., Khattak, is but an empty husk. 
 
 LXXXl. 
 
 What is it, but a sound and healthy body, 
 
 Which, more than empire and sovereignty, is prefen-ed ? 
 
 Altho' the world's wealth is an excellent thing, 
 
 CJlory and renown are, than riches, more precious still. 
 
 Wiiiit arc more inestimable than the most perfect tiling ? 
 The one, is i)tu-ity — the other, is sincerity of heart. 
 
 What is it that disenthi-alleth a man from sorrow ? 
 Yea, what is it ? — it is contentodness of mind. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 233 
 
 Shouldst thou boast thyaelf of thy godhuesa, 
 
 That godliness, thereby, is rendered bootless and vain. 
 
 What is that, which hath a value beyond compute 1 
 Yea, what is it ? — it is deliberation in all our affairs. 
 
 That, which as a favour and obligation is conferred, 
 As generosity or liberality, is it ever accounted ] 
 
 \^^lat is that, which, in this world, is a Hell indeed '? 
 Verily, it is the society and acquaintance of a fool. 
 
 Then, Khushhal ! guard thou well thy mind ; 
 For if there be aught good, 't is a mind tipright. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 Such an amount of misery is there in my family this day. 
 That the world is amazed and confounded, at the sight of our 
 troubles. 
 
 A degenerate sou soweth thorns in the path of his own father ; 
 But the deserving son is a rose-garden, that bloometh all life long. 
 
 An incapable, worthless son, maketh a very Hell-upon-earth therein ; 
 But a worthy son is, truly, a Paradise in his father's dwelling. 
 
 A good child becometh a refulgent lamp in the house of its parent ; 
 But a graceless, misbegotten one is murky darkness within his 
 abode. 
 
 In maturity, his nature becometh that of a trap and a beast of 
 
 prey; 
 Therefore, the good conduct of a child is the greater, the younger 
 
 it may be. 
 
234 KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 The vicious son destroyeth the name and reputation of father and 
 
 ;_Tandfather, 
 Though the banner of their greatness and renown he up-reared on 
 
 high. 
 
 Tlie virtuous son is wlinlly occupied in concern for name and fame ; 
 But the good-for-nothing son raaketh the belly the object of his 
 regard. 
 
 indeed, since dogs of such description have been bom unto him, 
 1 have my doubts, whether Khushhal is a human being at all. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 Either let it be a sovereign upon his throne, 
 Or let it be the poor darwesh of a monasteiy ! 
 
 Many there iuv, who are in the right j)ath — 
 Would there were a few, like myself, astray ! 
 
 1 am ready, at all times, the work to commence — 
 Woidd that my friends were also as ready to begin ! 
 
 He, whose actions are imbecoming a man, 
 A man cannot be, but a crazy old crone. 
 
 By computation, 1 have thirty sons, no less — 
 
 Would tiiat 1 could a good word for some of them sav ! 
 
 \\'ere there any steps taken for assembling troops — 
 Kvery bill and dale with them to profusion teem. 
 
 The black and the white'" are useless in any affair — 
 Kither let all be white, or let all black be. 
 
 • Tlir faithles.'^ aiul insincere. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 235 
 
 It is, alas ! the gloomy iii<rht of woe and soitow — 
 Would that the morn of joy and delight would dawn ! 
 
 Unjust towards Khushhal they would not he, 
 Were jieople with the state of the case acquainted.* 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 Verily, the Afghans are deficient in sense and understanding — 
 They are the tail-cut curs of the butchers' slaughter-house. 
 
 They have played away dominion, for the gold of the Mughals ; 
 And they lust after the offices, that the Mu gh als can give. 
 
 Though the camel, with its lading, hath entered their dwelling, 
 They are first taken up with stealing the bell from its neck. 
 
 Out upon him, who first the name of Sarrah-banf bore ! 
 And malediction upon the whole of them, that after follow ! 
 
 Tlie recreant occupy themselves in baseness and dishonour ; 
 But eveiy breath of the noble is devoted to the cause of renown. 
 
 They commence from Kandahar, and reach unto Dam gh ar ;J 
 And all are worthless and good for nothing, who dwell between. 
 
 * This poem appears to have reference to the coldness of the poet's con- 
 federates in the war with the Mughals, and to the trouble Khushhal had 
 with his sons. 
 
 j The name of the ancestor of one of the great divisions of the Afghans, 
 including some of the western tribes, and also the Yusufzis of the north- 
 eastern parts of Af gh anistan, who refused assistance to Khushhal and his 
 confederates, in their wars with Aurangzeb. 
 
 I Damghar is the name of a small town in Suwat. 
 
2.3 G KHUSHH.\L KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 1 went and turned anchorite — such is my case, such my situation — 
 My sole worldly wealth this broken bowl within my hand, and a 
 coverlet of nigs. 
 
 Behold the imfortunate ! sec what manner of meretricious acts they 
 
 commit ! 
 They all desire prosperity ; but prosperity is evanescent, and con- 
 
 tinueth not ! 
 
 I will become a sacrifice unto him, who luith made the world his 
 
 sacrifice ; 
 But let him l)e an oblation uuto nic, who hath become an oblation 
 
 unto gold. 
 
 There is nothing whatever in it — there is a great bustle iu an empty 
 
 shoj) : 
 When I duly considered the matter, I found it all mere fancy — a 
 
 phantom — a dream. 
 
 One is being laid in the cold grave, whilst another, at home, sitteth 
 
 unconcerned ; 
 Then there are three days of mourning ; and on the fourth, the 
 
 case is changed. 
 
 With hands placed to my ears, I flee from it, that I may escape 
 
 therefrom ; 
 But others grow wretched after it — O (Jod, what a dreadfid j)liigue 
 
 it is! 
 
 What hast thou to do with others ? show resolution for thine own 
 
 deliverance ; 
 For thou, O Knu.^HHlL ! art entangled therein — alus ! what a uet 
 
 of calamity it is ! 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN. KHATTAK. 237 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 rose ! who art the true cause of the garden's loveliness, 
 
 Why condescendest thou to join, in laughter, with thorns and weeds'? 
 
 How Cometh it, that thon art not conscious of thine own dignity 1 
 For thou art the one and only beauteous object in this pai'terre. 
 
 The songs of the nightingales will not always be made for thee ; 
 For thou, lovely rose ! art notorious for thy lack of constancy. 
 
 Delight, then, the senses of the nightingale with thine own fragrance, 
 For the few, short days, that thou freshly bloomest, the garden 
 within. 
 
 Should I desire to mention, unto any one, thy injustice, 't is 
 
 unsj)eakable ; 
 Yet with all this heavy amomit of wrongs, thou art my life still. 
 
 But shouldst thovi complain, unto any one, of the injustice of thy 
 
 beloved. 
 May all love's calamities befall thee ; for thou sayest what is false. 
 
 Khushhal ! thou that ascendest unto love and passion's giddy 
 
 height — 
 Consider well, in thy heart, upon whom thou hast thine affections 
 
 placed. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 When of the circumstances of the wise are the ignorant aware, 
 Who, through their own foolishness, are worthless and despicable too ? 
 
 A star only twinkled in the eyes of the blear-eyed fellow ; 
 Yet, he called out to the world, that it was the sun itself 
 
238 khushhal khan, khattak. 
 
 From those deep scars, that are l^rauiled iiptni my heart, 
 
 I am well aware, indeed, that it is thoroughly seasoued thereby. 
 
 Should one but restrain his eyes, there would be no misery : 
 It is the eyesight that hurleth the thundei-bolts upon the heart. 
 
 Forbid, O God, that any one in tiie world should fall in love! 
 For it is like unti) an invading army in the liody's realm. 
 
 This poor, maddened heart of mine, began to laugh yestreen ; 
 But see ! to-day, it has commenced, once more, to weep again. 
 
 That I have di-.iwn out the diver of thought from the depths of the 
 
 ocean, 
 Come and behold ; Fit the words of KnLvnn.vi. are pearls, indeed ! 
 
 LX.WVIII. 
 
 Of them, who always j)laced upon their heads the cap of vanity, 
 The black liair hath now become, like unto white wool, changed. 
 
 The ruiuiiiig stream and life's career are both one and the .same — 
 In this world, those joyous days and night.s, return to us no more ! 
 
 All love, save that of God, if thou peiveivest, is, altogether. 
 
 As if one built a bridge of straws upon the surface of the stream. 
 
 With all tliis grace aiul beauty that I see possessed by thee. 
 Whether thou art of iumian mould, or a fay, I cannot say. 
 
 Without the wind's aid, I attain not to the object of my desire, 
 Notwithstanding I launch upon the waters the boat of my heart. 
 
 I'roiii the dusky snakes o( thy tresses he entei-tixineth no dread, 
 Who, in his mouth, holdeth the snake-root of thy atl'ection and love. 
 
 The heart of Kllt'.iUn.\i., in piety, was like unto a mountain ; 
 But, all at (Mire 't is to a gossamer changed, through his love for thee. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN. KHATTAK. 239 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 Of the preciousness of youth what doubt can be entertained 1 
 The period of old age is pregnant with infirmities and defects ! 
 
 Every now and again, fresh wounds break out upon my heart ; 
 And salt is spread and sj^rinkled upon my wounds always. 
 
 Should joy and gladness approach thee, be not overjoyed thereat; 
 For care and sorrow ever stare happiness in the face. 
 
 Murmur not at the tyranny, or the inj ustice of any one ; 
 For it is fate that dealeth out misfortune upon us all. 
 
 Without some wise object, He hath not brovight sorrow upon us ; 
 For affliction is the test on the face of the dastard and the brave. 
 
 As much as happiness exceedeth, so much the more lavish is 
 
 miseiy : 
 Fortunate is he, indeed, for whose belly sufficeth the dry crust. 
 
 Now that I am turned ascetic, for whom shall I gird on the sword i 
 It is well, forsooth, that I even bear a club my shoulder upon.* 
 
 Should any one make inquiry concerning wounded heai"ts, 
 There is Khushhal, Khattak's, by his own clan lacerated. 
 
 XC. 
 
 That one's blood should be upon one's own head, is, truly, some 
 
 cause of concern ; 
 Still, to think that I still live, whilst my friends are in the tomb, 
 
 is irksome to me. 
 
 * Ascetics and darweshes carry a club or staff. 
 
240 KHUSHHAL KHAN. KHATTAK. 
 
 Since so many pleasant and Hiniiliar faces are buried beneath this 
 
 earth, 
 When I shall join them in the <<i"avc, it will be a vciy paradise to me. 
 
 Is old age come upon nic ? am I imbecile grown ] or is there aught 
 
 else? 
 For that doth not succeed which I set about ; and yet people and 
 
 countr}' are the Siime. 
 
 Tho' I speak unto folks ever so kindly, they take in bad part wliat 
 
 I say unto them — 
 *T is either the good fortune of the Mughals, or my intellect hath 
 
 deficient become. 
 
 No ! 't is not the good fortune of the Mughals, nor am I in intellect 
 
 wanting — 
 'T is, entirely, thi'ough old age, that my affaii-s are all disordered 
 
 and confused. 
 
 The Mughals whom I now set eyes upon, ai"c not such as were 
 
 wont to bo : 
 The day of their swords is past and gone, and but the pen remaineth 
 
 luito them. 
 
 They gain over the Afghans by gold ; and l)y fraud and deception 
 
 entangle them :* 
 Upon me these things have no cft'ect ; for the favour of (Jod is still 
 
 upon mc. 
 I am neither a fly nor a crow, that T slmnld liovn- over i-ottenness 
 
 and filth : 
 Tiie liawk or the falcon am I, that must my lieart, with my own 
 
 (|uarry, delight. 
 
 » • Tlif Kiiiperor Auraiiirzeb, finding that Khusb'.ial and his brotlier con- 
 fedenites cuukl not be subdiu'd witli the sword, tried gold and diplomacy, 
 til wlii(!li tilt' most ot thcni succuinl)H(l. See page 144. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 241 
 
 Were there but others hke unto me in this affair, I should rejoice 
 
 indeed ; 
 But since there are none like me, with distress and grief T am 
 
 o' erwhelm'd. 
 
 Both Ac-nial Khau and Dar-ya Khan have passed away, in honour 
 
 and in fixme ;* 
 And, through bereavement from them, these my sighs, and this 
 
 moiinaing proceed. 
 
 XCI. 
 
 The faithlessness of the world hath become manifest unto me ; 
 Therefore, through the word ' friendship,' I have drawn my pen. 
 
 Like as when fire reacheth brushwood, and it ceaseth to be ; 
 So with absence's pangs — they last, only, for a few short days. 
 
 Than the sun's light, that of true knowledge is still more bright : 
 Forbid, that any one should emerge from such effulgence as this ! 
 
 See what an admirable form, from a single drop proceedeth ! 
 Truly, the works of the Almighty are worthy of Himself ! 
 
 Thou, nightingale ! wouldst, erewhile, have given the rose thy 
 
 heart, 
 If this mart of its beauty were to continue to flourish always. 
 
 There will not be, henceforth, repose like this for me again. 
 Since I have become aware, solitude, of thy preciousness ! 
 
 They, who by their own efforts, seek, the world's prosperity to gain. 
 The wisdom of such people is as nothing in my sight. 
 
 * See Khushhal, Poem I., ' An Ode to Spring-,' stanza 17. 
 R 
 
242 KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 From whom shall I seek to obtain a such-like panacea, 
 
 That hath been purposely jn-opared, fur the ciu-e of my pains ] 
 
 Since the calamity of separation is ever linked along with it, 
 Wherefore is the beauty of the beloved so lauded and extolled ? 
 
 Since the gem is grown of less value than the kauri shell' — 
 There can be no jeweller, clear-sighted enough to distinguish them. 
 
 Seeing, that wherever there may be beauty, there the heart is, 
 To what degree shall I Khushhal's self-denial and abnegation 
 praise ? 
 
 XCII. 
 
 It is false that aught of evil or misfortune proceedeth from the 
 
 stai's — 
 All good and evil— weal and woe — emanate from the Almighty's 
 
 decrees. 
 
 If their colour be their excellence, whence is their fragrance 1 
 For flowers of paper are similar unto the flowers themselves. 
 
 Fortune is like unto a child, in its disposition and its ways ; 
 
 For wlicn the child giveth one any thing, it soon rogrcttcth it again. 
 
 ^^'llen the world's prosperity tumeth its face from the ignorant. 
 At their words, and their proceedings, the wise become amazed. 
 
 But when the wise man may not possess aught of its wealth, 
 In the world's eyes, he is the same as a blockhead, or a fool. 
 
 When possessed of power and influence, my words were as pearls ; 
 But now, I am satisfied if they be, even as corals, received. 
 
 * Cyprspa mnneta. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN. KHATTAK, 243 
 
 Let us see what events will, hereafter, show their face ; 
 Though, hi the meantime, the world will prate a deal thereon. 
 
 As much as the love of wealth exceedeth, so much misery it 
 
 bringeth ; 
 For they, who accumulate much of it, grow miserable indeed. 
 
 I am that same Khushhal, but me they value not now ; 
 For 't is of the Afghans, that all these my complainings are. 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 Wherever thou I'eclinest, that place a parterre of flowers becometh : 
 When thou in the mead roamest, the breast of the tulip is scarred. 
 
 Wlien the sable locks about thy fair face, the zephyr disheveleth, 
 The fragrance of musk and amber is diffused in every brain. 
 
 Since, in thy tresses, my heart is lost, show thou thy face to me ; 
 For in night's gloom, lost things are, with lighted lamp, sought for. 
 
 Equal to that deliciousness, which I have, from thy lips, imbibed ; 
 Term me a liar if such, as luscious, be in the wine-cup found. 
 
 Bear, zephyr unto the nightingale, this message of mine — 
 " The rose's fragrance or its trace, in this parteiTe, will, doubt- 
 less, be." 
 
 For one moment, at least, sit thou with Khushhal in tranquillity, 
 That his heart may, from its heavy sorrows, some slight solace find ! 
 
 XCIV. 
 
 From the lustre of the internal, the exterior is clear and bright ; 
 But by intercourse with the base, there ai'e a hundred ills. 
 
 R 2 
 
24-1 KHCSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 Like the name of alchemy and of the phoenix, that we hear about, 
 Than both of these, sincerity and fidehty are more rarely found. 
 
 From the lips of the despicable thou hearest a thousand things ; 
 For when will they rest SiUisfied with a single hai-angue ? 
 
 Do not allow thyself to be deceived by friends of the present day — 
 Before thy face, they are for thee ; but behind thee, back to back. 
 
 Do thou, Khushhal ! call in that great physician's aid, 
 In the refulgence of whose face there 's perfect cure for thee ! 
 
 XCV. 
 
 Accovmt him a good man, who, in heart, is innocent and pure ; 
 For modesty and uprightness are manifest in him always. 
 
 He, who may not possess these few qualities, is not a man ; 
 And whatever he wisheth let him do; for he is absolved from all. 
 
 They who couteud with the world, for the sake of worldly goods. 
 Are like unto dogs, fighting and snarling, a mass of can-ion upon. 
 
 If a wise man be, in appearance imsightly, what mattcreth it ? 
 What though a homely scabbard hath lieen for a good blade made? 
 
 In these matters, no one else hath any business or concern what- 
 ever ; 
 
 For 't is the money-changer, that distinguishcth the pure from tlie 
 alloy. 
 
 The jeweller will hinisclf make them show their respective qualities. 
 Though, in colour, the agate may be more pelluciil than the rnby 
 itself. 
 
 I wander everywhere in search of friendship, and find it not : 
 
 In what direction do they dwell, that know aught of faithfidness ? 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 245 
 
 Ho will not bo aoqxiaiuted with the art of weaving velvet, 
 Althongh the maker of mats is, also, among weavers accounted. 
 
 Love hath not proceeded either from what is true, or what is futile ; 
 But manifold are the pilgrimages made to the idol of its shrine. 
 
 Those charming ones have grown so numerous, that I fear them 
 
 now — 
 I, Khushhal, that of my piety and godliness have boasted so 
 
 nmch. 
 
 XCVI. 
 
 All woman-kind are of intellect deficient ; 
 And the voluntary causes of all life's ills. 
 
 Thou mayst be straight and even with them ; 
 But they are crooked and wayward with thee. 
 
 Do them a thousand benefits and services ; 
 Yet, at a single word, their hearts sulky grow. 
 
 They become poison unto thee, aud kill thee — 
 They, whom thou deemest a healing balm. 
 
 They have no fidelity in their composition : 
 They are, natui'ally, unto pei-fidiousuess prone. 
 
 Created, indeed, in the figure of mankind ; 
 But, in reality, with no humanity in them. 
 
 They make thee out culpable, on a slight offence ; 
 But they cannot be Avrong, however great their sins. 
 
246 KHUSHHAL KHAN. KHATTAK. 
 
 The more crossness bonie, the more petulaut they : 
 The more whims brooked, tlie more capricious they grow. 
 
 In all things, they are tickle, and changeable : 
 Tame in tongue,* but untameable in heart. 
 
 They are beautiful in person, from head to foot ; 
 .^^ But are like unto the wily sei-pent within. 
 
 Say no more about them, Kitushhal ! 
 
 It would be l)ettcr had thev never existed ! 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 I am of those eyes of thine enamoured — look thou upon me ! 
 I ani the Hindu slave of thy locks ; but dispose not of me ! 
 
 With this form, and these charms, that thou possessest, 
 
 It would V)c, indeed, wondeiful, were any other bom like thee. 
 
 In grace and loveliness, there is no one equal unto thee — 
 This is the pity, that thou art, wholly, pitiless and luikind. 
 
 Tlidugh I die of grief fen* tlieo, still thou tuniest away from nic : 
 What ! is the love of thine heart turned so dark for me 1 
 
 I will never abandon thy door, nor thy dwelling-place, 
 Though thou mayest, without fire, cruelly, me consume. 
 
 Shouldst thou inflict a thousand cruelties on me, imagine not, 
 Tliat tlie love of my heart will, towards theo, ever be changed. 
 
 I iini well off, sunk down contein])tible, in the dust at thy door; 
 But not so elsewhere, though I should u])ou a throne recline. 
 
 * Not ahvnvi^, at len.st, as i'ar as the tongues of most EiiglisLwonicn 
 sro. 
 
KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 247 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 The mercy of the Ahniglity be in^on Akorraey,* that selected 
 
 SaiTi'et for his home ! 
 Since I have on the subject reflected, if thou beUcTe me, 'tis, of all 
 
 others, the spot. 
 
 Its dark monntain-ra,nge of Hoddaey,;}: runneth directly into the 
 
 Tl-rah country, 
 And the Xil-ab and Landdaey have, wonderfully, laid their heads 
 
 at its feet.§ 
 
 The gi'eat high road of Hindustan and Khurasan, is made along 
 
 their banks ; 
 And by Attak lieth its ford, which both kings and beggars hold in 
 
 dread. 
 
 * Akorraey is the name of Khushlial's great-grand&ther, who con- 
 quered from the WurakzT tribe, the country now held by the Khattaks. 
 There is a town also named after this chief, between Attak and Pesliawar. 
 
 t See note at page 193. 
 
 J The high mountain facing Attak, and a little lower down than the 
 village of Khairabad on the same side, which rises up directly from the 
 Indus, is mount Hoddae}^, which gives its name to the whole range, 
 reaching as far as Ti-rah, a district lying about south-east from Pesha- 
 war. ^ The Bara river rises in T!-rah, which is beyond the Khaibar 
 Pass, and is inhabited by Afghans of the Afridl and Ti-rilh tribes. 
 
 § The Nll-ab, or Blue-water, is one of the names of the Indus, which 
 washes the base of Hoddaey. A few miles further up is the Landdaey, 
 in Pushto signifying the Less or Little, a name given to the river of 
 Kabul, which joins the Indus a few miles above Attak, a town on the 
 east bank of the Indus, on the high-road between India and Khurasan. 
 
248 KHUSHHAL KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 Everj' blessing of the earth, that can l)c called to mind, cometh to 
 
 us thereby ; 
 And, as the countn' is miny, who shall tell how beautiful is its 
 
 spring 1 
 
 Whether it be the district of Suwat, or Asljnagar, or whether 
 
 res'hawar. 
 They have rccoiu-sc unto it ; and its abundance goeth forth to 
 
 them all. 
 
 There is game around, in every direction — sport for falcon, hawk, 
 
 or hound : 
 Hail! hail! Krdah-parnn '* what heart-ravishing sport dost thou 
 
 contain ! 
 
 The youth of Sara e ai-e healthy and stout ; active and agile, in 
 
 every thing : 
 MeiTy-eyed ; white and red ; and tall in stature are they, the eye 
 
 imto. 
 
 \^^lether it be son, or grand-son ; whether family, or whether trilic. 
 May the protection of the Almighty be extended to all who dwell 
 therein ! 
 
 Fate, alas ! hath taken him from it — can the ami of any one reach 
 
 fate ] 
 Khushhai. hath not been severed from Sara'e of his own accord — 
 
 all no !f 
 
 * Knlah-pannl is the name of an extensive forest in the Khattak 
 country, once famous for its game. 
 
 t Tliis poem was written during the poet's exile in India; and Surfi'e 
 was his place of birth. 
 
ASHRAF KHAN* KHATTAK. 
 
 AsHRAF Khax, eldest sou of Khushhal Khan, the subject of the 
 preceding notice, was born in the year H. 1044 (a.d. 163-4) ; and 
 ■when the war, which had been earned on by his father and other 
 Afghan chieftains, against the Mughal Emperor, died out, Khushhal, 
 wholly disgusted with the world, resigned the chieftainship of the 
 Khattak tribe in favour of Ashraf, A.H. 1093 {a.d. 1681.) The 
 circumstances, which brought these matters about, having been 
 related at lenglh in the notice preceding Khusbhfd's poems, need 
 not be repeated here. 
 
 Ashraf eudeavoiu-ed for some time to caiTy on the government 
 of his clan, and also to perform his duties towards the Mughal 
 Government, by aiding the Pes^hawar authorities in the administra- 
 tion of the affairs of tliat province ; but he was opposed and 
 thwai'ted in all liis endeavoiu's by his brother Bahram, the same 
 who endeavoured to take the life of his father, who styles him 
 "Bahram the Degenerate," and "Tlie Malignant;" and by whose 
 machinations, Ashraf was, at last, betrayed into the hands of 
 Aurangzeb, in the year h. 109-5 (a.d. 1683). The affairs of the 
 Dakhan having called for the presence of that monarch, who con- 
 tinued in that part of India for several years, the Khattak chief 
 was taken along mth him, as a state prisoner ; and was subsequently 
 sent to the strong fortress of Bijapui", situated in what is, at present, 
 termed the Southern Maharata country, where he continued to 
 languish in exile for the remainder of his life. He died in the year 
 H. 1105 (a.d. 1693), and in the 60th year of his age. 
 
250 ASHUAF KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 Aghraf used, occasionally, to devote some of his leisiu-e time to 
 poetr}', before he assumed the govcnimeut of his clau, incited, 
 doubtless, by the example of his brave old father, and his brothers 
 -Eabd-ul-Kadir and Sadr Khan, who were also gifted with the 
 "cacoetfies gcrihendi." During his exile he wrote a great number 
 of poems, and cullected the whole, as they now stand, in the form 
 of a Dlwan, or Alphabetical Collection. Actording to the usual 
 custom among Eastern poets, Ashraf assumed the name of " The 
 Severed" or "Exiled ;" and many of his poems, written in the most 
 pathetic style, plainly tell where, and under what circumstances, 
 tliey were composed. The original Dlwan, or Collection, arranged 
 and wi'itten Ijy himself, at Bijapur, is still in the possession of his 
 descendants, and frum it the following poems were extn\cted ; 
 indeed, I am not aware that any other copy of his poems exists. 
 Ashraf is regarded by the Afghans as a good poet ; but his effusions 
 are, without reason apparently, considered difficidt and abstruse. 
 
 When Afzal Khan, his son, became finnly established in the 
 chieftj\inship, he caused the remains of his father to be removed 
 from Bijfipur to Sarae — where the Khattak chiefs have been usually 
 inteiTed — a distance of some fifteen hundred miles. 
 
THE POEMS 
 
 ASHEAF KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 The promise of the kiss, the beloved ever putteth off for to- 
 morrow ; 
 Then how can my heart place confidence in a pledge like this ? 
 
 Whoso is vain enough to depend upon the affairs of the future, 
 The wise and sagacious will laugh that foolish man to scorn. 
 
 My friend is not acquainted with the deceitfulness of the world ; 
 Yet still she deceiveth, having, in her heart, naught of truthfulness. 
 
 Do not presimie to this degi'ee, upon the loveliness of the face : 
 Behold the autumn ! doth it ever, to the rose, any bloom impart 1 
 
 Thou, who through arrogance, actest thus falsely towards me ; 
 Time will pay back imto thee the requital of these deeds of thine. 
 
 In the land of association, the appliances of pleasm-e will be many ; 
 But the troops of bereavement, full speedily, lay it waste. 
 
 Never cast thou thine eyes upon the rose, nightingale ! 
 
 For separation will make those fresh wounds of thine still worse. 
 
 But is the nightingale wont, through advice, the rose to forswear 1 
 No ! 't is the blast of autumn only that separateth them by force ! 
 
252 ASHRAF KHAN. KHATTAK. 
 
 Full many have departed in sorrow, with the hope of to-moiTo\v ; 
 Then who will place any reliance on life's fidelity to-day ? 
 
 Thou, who in the hope of existence therefrom, restest in tran- 
 quillity — 
 Doth the empyrean ever any opportimity for continuance allow 1 
 
 Today, I j)L'rccive the crisis of a contingency on the world 
 
 impending ; 
 But the future may make ai)j)arent unto it some other event.* 
 
 The Sevkukd had never l)eheld Bij.ipur, even in his dreams ;t 
 But, at last, that presenteth itself, which his destiny decreed ! 
 
 11. 
 
 "Wlien, in the shape of a shield, the hair on the forehead is ])laited,J 
 The roses wreathed therein, impart the intrinsic virtues of the sun. 
 
 The live-coal-like nil)y in her nose-jeweU is fire itself; 
 
 And the red bulrik,|| like mito a spark of fire, is i)laced by its side. 
 
 * The poet here appears to refer to some chance of releiise from ciip- 
 tivity. 
 
 t Hijiipur, the name of the fortress in which he was confined. 
 
 I This refers to a custom prevalent amon{;st all the Afghan tribes in 
 the days of the poet, and still observed by the GhiUzis and other tribes of 
 Central Afghfinistan, of plaiting- the front hair of yoiniir irirls, from about 
 eifil-ht years of aire until tlic ilay of maniajz'e, in a round plait about the 
 size of a small saucer, which is allowed to hanjr down in front, and often 
 reaches to the tip of the nose, l)ut not- covering the eyes, thus acting the 
 jiart of a mask. On the ninrriage-day it is opened and jilaited in tlie 
 ordinary way. A ]iifture containing a girl wearing the liair in this 
 manner will be found in Captain L. W. Hart's work of ".Sketches of 
 Afohan (!osTrMK," litliographed by IIaohe. 
 
 g An ornament worn by women in tlie left nostril. 
 
 II A rinir of umIiI worn in the cartihiiiv of tlie nose. 
 
ASHRAF KHAN, KHATTAK. 253 
 
 Tlic chamkala'I*oii her forehead is hence red witli her lover's blood, 
 That every jewel therein, for piercing, is like a lancet disposed. 
 
 Her eyebrows are a bent bow ; her eyelashes, arrows adjusted : 
 The ornaments of beauty are sometimes a sword ; at others, a 
 dagger made. 
 
 The devotee of a hmidred years is, with one of her glances undone, 
 A\lien she decketh out her beauteous person, and goeth foi^th. 
 
 When she disposeth her flowing tresses in curls about her face, 
 To the Ethiop army she accordeth permission, devastation to make. 
 
 Her dark eyes she maketh still more black, by the antimony ; 
 And every eyelash she will make moist in her lover's blood. 
 
 Soft and tender tales she telleth, but they are all dissimulation : 
 She casteth her enchantments round the heart, by pretexts and 
 pleas. 
 
 For her lover, Tartarus and Elysium are ready provided ; 
 Since the sweet Paradise of conjunction, separation tunieth to 
 Hell. 
 
 Tlie shadow of love is, undoubtedly, the philosopher's stone ; 
 Since upon whomever it may be rubbed, his body is turned to gold. 
 
 The punishment is death, in the creed of passion's votaries. 
 For him, who entereth love's path, and feareth its struggles and 
 strife. 
 
 Never let him, at any time, gaze upon the face of the beloved, 
 Who may be partial unto life, and for his head may fear. 
 
 * An ornament for the forehead. These names are Indian, not Afghiln ; 
 but Afghans bordering on the Panjab and India have borrowed these 
 terms and ornaments from the people of those parts. 
 
254 ASHRAF KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 Like unto the inroads the heart-ravishers make my heart upon — 
 When do the Khaibarls such upmi the Mughals' heads ever make ? 
 
 The Sepauatkd will not, thro' injustice, turn his back to the 
 
 beloved ; 
 Though she should make his body red with blood all over ! 
 
 TIT. 
 
 With the scar of soitow, he will his own heai-t afflict, 
 If, on the world's affairs, any one should reliiuice place. 
 
 Do not fijow vain of its favour; for all is deception : 
 Do not imagine, that, in reality, it benevolence showeth. 
 
 When it did not act faithfully with those that have gone, 
 Wlioever seeketh constancy from it to-day, en'eth greatly. 
 
 The foimdatiou of all its acts is on injustice based : 
 
 From the age hope not for good faith : for it knowcth it not. 
 
 Do not pride thyself on the friendship of that friend, 
 
 Who, in the same breath, in a thousand other places smileth. 
 
 I place not an hoiii-'s reliance on the permanence of life : 
 lie is a fool who nourishcth great hopes of immutability. 
 
 All those splendid edifices, that thou, in the world, beholdest, 
 (."ruel destiny, at last, will them to a naked desert turn. 
 
 Thk Si;r.vi{ATKn, in the Dakhan, would not have a moment stayed : 
 But when doth fate ever fulfil our wishes and rei^uests ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 What shall 1 say unto any one regarding the anguish of separation i 
 Since it hath not even left witliiii nie the power to complain ! 
 
ASHRAF KHAN, KHATTAK. 255 
 
 Since every injuiy she heapctli upon nie is right and lawful ; 
 At least, let the proud one stand once with face towards me. 
 
 The gold bracelets upon her wrists make an amazing display : 
 Let them never become broken from the disasters of fate ! 
 
 For my case, physician ! thou ever showest commiseration — 
 Thou say est, "l)y antidotes, thou wilt be from thy afflictions 
 relieved." 
 
 The diseases of the body thou knowest, without doubt ; 
 But when is the agony of the heart laid bare unto thee 1 
 
 Khattak that I am, with exile I am never content ; 
 
 But affection for my friend hath from my kin severed me. 
 
 The grief of The Separated shall be changed into gladness, 
 If any one, from the tavern, shall bring wine unto me. 
 
 V. 
 
 Like as absence from the beloved hath made day dark to me, 
 Let there never be, unto any one, such a dark and lurid day ! 
 
 Do not be overjoyed, marplot ! on account of my disjunction ; 
 For at last, dark and overcast like this, shall be thy day ! 
 
 Though constancy may grant to no one the opportunity of asso- 
 ciation, 
 The night of separation, at last, shall become the imclouded day ! 
 
 The spring-time of youth was, than the flowers more pleasant ; 
 But, alas ! it was not .so very lasting, the constancy of that day ! 
 
 Draw near, friend, and honoiu' me with a sight of thee ! 
 For the Almighty hath not in the world created an unchanging 
 day ! 
 
256 ASHRAF KHAN. KHATTAK. 
 
 Thou that ever puttest off, for to-morrow, the promise of meetiug, 
 Consider what pha.se may be assimied by to-morrow's day ! 
 
 The day of deli^'lit and jjleasure hath iiassod, as the wind, away — 
 For how long shall malice on me be vented by trouble's day I 
 
 Truly, it will be, at liust, like the wind that hath passed away, 
 This, that I now behold — separation's long, dreary day ! 
 
 The grief and joy of fortune's changes shall not last for aye : 
 Verily, O Sei'aratfd ! it shall reach its end, this oppression's day ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 Account as wind or as dust, the world's pains and pleasures : 
 The free man is not disquieted, by either its troubles or its cai'es. 
 
 Their coming, and their going, are more speedy than the dawn ;* 
 For I have, myself, experienced the heat and the cold of time. 
 
 Show thou no hankering for the fare on the board of fortune ; 
 For there is not a morsel thereon, free from bitterness and woe. 
 
 In a moment it pr(.)duceth fonus and figures of manifold fashions — 
 As a mere throw of the dice accomit the revolutions of fate. 
 
 Whoso may plume liimsolf on a lucky Uuii of good fortune, 
 
 It dealeth him a painful wound, at the moment of exulting thereon. 
 
 If, with the eye of understanding, its soitows and joys be viewed, 
 The permanence of their duration is, than that of the flower no 
 more. 
 
 • The coming and departure of day is very rapid in the Ea.-<t, there 
 beiniT but little twiliirht. 
 
ASHRAF KHAN. KHATTAK. 257 
 
 Turn thy back, Separatrd ! auto evil ; thy face towards good, 
 That, on the Great Day of Assembly,* thou mayest not, with fear, 
 be pale. 
 
 VII. 
 
 In love for thee, never lot my heart grow cold 
 
 Like thine, that in perpetrating injustice, never groweth cold ! 
 
 When will any one a trvie and sincere lover style me, 
 If my heart, in grief for thee, unto constancy turn cold 1 
 
 No ! my heart shall never wax cold unto foithfulness ; 
 Nor, in this world, will thy nature, unto tyranny grow cold. 
 
 Nal, with all his wrongs, did not his back on Daman turn ; t 
 Then how can any one's heart now, unto thee turn cold 1 
 
 What clamom* did the unscathed raise on him always ; 
 Yet the love of Majuun for his Layla grew not cold. 
 
 Advisers would, unto him, good counsel ever give 1 
 But no admonitions made Wamik, unto ^azra cold ! 
 
 Neither did the world show constancy unto the departed; 
 Nor have the souls of the covetous, unto the world grown cold. 
 
 My bmiit-up heart hath become as fresh at a sight of thee, 
 As the seed of sweet basil maketh the heat-stricken cold. 
 
 The hope of my meeting hath cooled the fever of absence ; 
 
 And the perspiration of recovery always maketh the feverish cold. 
 
 * The resurrection. 
 
 t The names jXal and Daman, Wamik and /Eazifi, Majnun and Lavlfi, 
 are those of lovers, celebrated in Eastern poetry. 
 
258 ASHRAF KIIAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 Even at thy death, The Separated will iK>t thy love renounce ; 
 And forsworn is he, if, in life, his heart unto thee tuni cold ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 th<^u, who pridest thyself on the plenitude of the world's wealth ! 
 
 1 low is it that the condition of thy forefathers restmineth thee not ? 
 
 Tlieir obvious existence, than that of the flowers hath lieen less ; 
 Place then no reliance upon the mere phantasies of the world. 
 
 What is it to thee, though the face of the earth be broad 1 
 But three yards, in its bosom, is all thy portion thereof. 
 
 Since, beneath the earth's surface, thy abode is appointed, 
 Fruitlessly, upon it, thou buildest thy mansions and thy courts. 
 
 Gaiety and enjo^-ment are intended for the callous and unconscious ; 
 But sorrow and concern are, wholly, the portion of the enlightened. 
 
 Tlie votaries of the world ai'e all t}-rants and oppressors ; 
 From any one of them, of faithfiilnes;;, I have never yet heard. 
 
 They evince not a particle of shame, even in humanity's name : 
 Tlioy wony and rend each other, like unto ravenous beasts. 
 
 Outwardly, they may practise the appearance of friendship ; 
 But the heart of even* man is filled with opposition and strife. 
 
 Those deceptions that the world's sons now-a-day pmctise, 
 Even the fox would not be guilty of such wiles and deceits. 
 
 Weo]) not, though thou sliouldst exjierience adversity's frowns ! 
 For the evils and afflictions of this transient world shall not eudme. 
 
 Witii the t rue juul sincere, Separated! love and afl'ection aie 
 
 good ; 
 But with the deceitful, frieudsliip advantageth not the least. 
 
ASHRAF KHAN, KHATTAK. 259 
 
 IX. 
 
 Since I am over hopeful of meeting thee, either to day or to-morrow, 
 Uselessly, in this insane idea, passeth my sweet life away. 
 
 With cries and supplications, I seek it to-day, but find it not ; 
 For the soldier}^ of separation destroy the period of my joy. 
 
 Tlie tree of prosperity yielded not to me the fruit of my desires : 
 In wails and lamentations, unjustly, my body I wearied make. 
 
 In the beginning, when the tree of affection was created. 
 Its innate properties brought forth absence's bitter frviit. 
 
 I was wont, unconsciously, to eat of the fruit of separation, 
 When, in the garden, I planted affection's tender sprout. 
 
 In disjunction, friends ! I perceive no fault whatever : 
 
 The heart, this misfortune permitteth, when acquainted therewith. 
 
 With the sword of separation. He cleaveth asunder, at last. 
 
 The heart of him, whom He, of a lovely face, enamoured maketli. 
 
 The game of absence, He at that time made so absorbing, 
 When, in the world. He thus the mart of affection thronged. 
 
 The Separated mentioned not, mito a soul, the secret of love ; 
 But, in the alley of his beloved, the world humiliated him. 
 
 X. 
 
 Wlien He, of His omnipotence, first the pen produced, 
 
 The destiny of every one, He then with its tongue* wi-ote down. 
 
 * The nib of the pen. 
 
 s2 
 
2b"0 ASHRAF KHAN. KHATTAK. 
 
 To-day, at every respiration, tliat allotment arrivcth — 
 
 To the share of sonic, He joy assigned ; to the lot of others, grief 
 
 By strife and contention now, he cannot great become, 
 AMio, from aU eternity, was entered in an inferior degree. 
 
 Thro' the liatred of the envious, never can become crooked — 
 The lot of him, which, in the beginning, He made straight. 
 
 When doth death seize the skirt of any one, out of sea.son ? 
 Yet tliey will not tan-y a moment, whose time is fulfilled. 
 
 The will of destiny ejected him frLim the abode of bliss ; 
 And then it charged unfortunate Adam with the sin. 
 
 At the wounds of fortune, O Separated ! do not sigh ; 
 For God hath, for the stricken, prepared a wondrous salve ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 "WTioever dwcllcth in this abode of calamity and affliction, 
 For every one, there is trouble, each according to his ca.se. 
 
 I seek after a place of .safety, but I lua unal)le to tiiid one; 
 The world, to this degi'ce, is so full of misery and woe. 
 
 Though fortune may, a thousand joys, on thee bestow, 
 With one atlliction, it trampleth tlicMU all in the dust. 
 
 Neither is its most propitious time worthy of rejoicing ; 
 Nor is its most portentous ho\ir for lamentation befitting. 
 
 Be not cast down at its son'ows, for they do not continue ; 
 And with its pleasures also, do not thou grow overjoyed. 
 
 If fortmie grant luito thee an interview with a j)retty one, 
 With the sting of sei)aration, it speedily jiiorcoth thy heart. 
 
ASHllAF KHAN, KHATTAK. 261 
 
 Prosperity never entereth within tlie precincts of one's abode, 
 Until misery and adversity its companions it maketh. 
 
 (luod fortnne, by its own words, saith, "I am not lasting," 
 If thou shouldst but reverse the letters of that word.* 
 
 The pigeon of vitality, it bringeth quickly down from its flight, 
 When the falcon of destiny sprcadeth its pinions to the wind. 
 
 It ch'aweth, without pretext, the dragon from the cave : 
 From the river it extracteth the fish, weak and paralyzed. 
 
 There is no cause for aiTogance in life's immutability ; 
 For it passeth by like the wind, both month and year. 
 
 Like a fool, Separated ! do not thou its slave become ; 
 For the world's joys and sorrows are a phantom and a ch-eam ! 
 
 XII. 
 
 Whoever have fixttened on the fleeting wealth of the world. 
 
 The worms of the earth, at last, have become glutted with them ! 
 
 The world's great ones too, whose history the books relate, 
 
 One after the other have fallen, slaughtered by the knife of death ! 
 
 Their wealth, lands, and mansions, they have transmitted to others : 
 Body by body, they have fallen asleep in the house of the tomb ! 
 
 Of the empty adulations of the world, they were amazingly vain ; 
 But they were overcome with regret, when the time of departure 
 came. 
 
 * This very pretty idea of the poet's is a play upon the Arabic word 
 JLsl ik-bdl, sig-iiifying, ' good fortune,' which, if read backwards, becomes 
 U;y la-bakd, meaning, 'without stability or permanence.' 
 
262 ASH RAF KHAN. KHATTAK. 
 
 Seeing that the world showed no constancy to the departed, 
 How are those who remain, so ardent, to-day, in its pursuit ] 
 
 The world is a faithless bride, that destroyeth her husband ; 
 Hence the wise, for this reason, are to her friendship so cold. 
 
 The flowers, that every season bloomed in the garden so sweetly, 
 Have likewise, in the autumn, thus been scattered to the winds. 
 
 thou, of vain pleasures so proud ! for thy departiu-e prepare ! 
 Thy cotemporaries have grown weary in looking out for thee ! 
 
 Behold these graves ! say, what wilt thou with gardens do ? 
 Look upon thy dear friends ! observe what they have become ! 
 
 Bend thy looks upon them — comely youths, and youthful brides ! 
 Separate from each other, in their graves they have withered away ! 
 
 By virtuous actions, Separated ! Heaven is attainable ; 
 Then never follow in the way of those who have gone astray. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 For the soul's journey, the white steed became saddled in the heart, 
 \\liou upon my chin grew white the hair of youthful days. 
 
 Wlien the spring-time of youth unto the body bade adieu. 
 The black hair waxed silvery in the autumn of old age. 
 
 Since the miseries of absence have not reduced them to ashes ; 
 What ! have these bones of my body, all, into iron timied ? 
 
 Either my good fortune, foUen asleep, giveth me no aid. 
 Or the rulers of the present age have stony-hearted grown. 
 
 Whereas the heads thereof make no impression on their l)odies, 
 On their armour must liave iirokon the arrow.s of my sighs. 
 
ASHRAF KHAN. KHATTAK. 263 
 
 Sorrow, to this degree, ciiusetli tlio blood from niiuo eyes to flow, 
 That the garmeuta of iny body have become tinged therefrom. 
 
 Behold the state of my eyeballs, by separation caused ! 
 
 They have assumed the appcai'ancc of red roses withiu the parterre ! 
 
 Though in the heart it may not have fallen, woe's seed sprouteth. 
 When, by the plough of disjunction, its grouud-plot may be turned. 
 
 Woidd, Separated ! that absence were, in the world, unknown ; 
 For from its inroads have become desolate the people thereof! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Of the pangs of separation I became deserving that day, 
 AAHien, weeping and sobbing, from my love I was severed. 
 
 At that time, for my life, in tears of blood I mom'ued, 
 ^Vhen, turning my back upon Attak, I weeping began. 
 
 How shall I now pine after the rocks and sln-ubs of my country I 
 For, having made my parting salutation, I bade them farewell. 
 
 Embedded in my heart, from Roll* an arrow I brought away — 
 I failed to bid adieu to my bowei", or its sacrifice to become.f 
 
 With much toil, in the world I had a garden laid out ; 
 
 And, as yet, I had not smelt a flower, when from it I was torn. 
 
 The blue heavens laughed from delight until they grew red. 
 When facing Hoddaey's momitain,| I turned from it away. 
 
 There is no magician in the Dakhan that can charm me ; 
 For I am a prisoner become, in a dragon's cavern profound. 
 
 * Roh is tlie name applied to the A fgh an countries generally ; hence 
 the name of Rohilahs, by which the Afghans are sometimes distinguished, 
 f See third note at page 139. J See third note at page 247. 
 
264 ASH RAF KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 The assignment of union was hung on the horns of the deer,* 
 When I crossed to the other bank of Xarbada's swift etream.t 
 
 The riches of association were a hoard that I gloated over; 
 
 But in absence's wars, I have to a mere tliread and fibre changed. 
 
 How shall I, to-day, complain of bereavement unto any one 1 
 I, myself, made a purchase of sorrow, when I a lover became. 
 
 Tlie vast dust of separation hath hidden happiness from me — 
 I am utterly weary grown at the noise of summoning it back. 
 
 I, KSAHAK, call unto my beloved, but she is not forthcoming : 
 Mortified and despairing thereat, I have become wedded imto woe ! 
 
 XV. 
 
 C(ime, my love ! let us, in one home, our abode take up ; 
 And from (mr minds dismiss all long and lingering hope ! 
 
 Hand in hand we will saunter about ; for such is fortunate : 
 It is not advisable that to-day's inclinations we for to-moiTow 
 defer. 
 
 From all eteraity, revolving fortune is cniel and unjust : 
 It is a fallacy if we, to-day, nourish a hope of its constancy. 
 
 We were many friends, like unto a flock, gathered together, 
 When the wolf of separation, by violence, tore us from each other 
 away. 
 
 * Referring to the custom of Eastern governments, of granting assign- 
 ments on persons or revenues of villages, for payment of money. An 
 a-ssignnirnt on a deer's horns is a proverb, with reference to any im- 
 jiracticable, or very difficult matter next to impossible, it being first 
 necessary to catch your deer. 
 
 t A river of Cent ml India. 
 
ASHllAF KHAN, KHATTAK. 265 
 
 Our dear, dear friends have from the world departed : 
 How long then shall we exist in this sublunary sphere? 
 
 How can any one the hope of joy and happiness entertain? 
 For He brought us into this abode, grief and misery to endure ! 
 
 Living, friend ! Tiik Separated would not have left thee ; 
 But 't is the king's tyranny that hath, by force, parted ns !* 
 
 XVI. 
 
 The wise, for this reason, unto the world's affairs will be cold ; 
 That all its griefs are like the blast, and like the dust its joys. 
 
 Do not, Darwesh ! false accoimt my sorrow and my sighs ; 
 For, at that time, the eyes will weep, when the heart may 
 aching be. 
 
 The head of courage will not bow for tlie sake of throne and 
 
 crown ; 
 Wlien the man, of spirit free, may know what the world's gifts are. 
 
 That man, who may traffic in perfidiousness, and in iniquity, 
 Will be pale and ghastly, when he entereth the assembly of the just. 
 
 In the estimation of the wise, even worse than the ox they are. 
 Who may be constantly overwhelmed in gluttony's cares. 
 
 The revolving heavens are a mill, and man the grain therein : 
 He is no sooner in the world, than he will into meal be ground. 
 
 It is out of the question altogether, that in Pus^to any other 
 
 bard. 
 Shall, like The Separated, so unrivalled, in the art poetic be. 
 
 * Referring to his captivity in India. 
 
266 ASHRAF KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Completely false and lying are they all, from first to last. 
 Who arc gatlicrcd around the table of the transient world ! 
 
 The universe is like unto the shop of the sweetmeat-seller : 
 Account its resorters nothing else l)ut the flies that they are ! 
 
 The degi-ee of affection, that the flies in that quarter bestow, 
 Is according to the quality of the sweets therein contained. 
 
 Place no reliance soever iipon the mere display of their sincerity : 
 Falsely, they deception pnictise : they are their own weal's 
 friends ! 
 
 In the day of prosperity, of constancy, they ever make boast ; 
 But when a slight disaster occurreth, they all tixke to flight. 
 
 The heart's eyes, for its own objects, show sycophancy to the 
 
 tongue ; 
 Then do not pride tln'self on their oaths ; for all are knaves. 
 
 Should they Viecome aware of a good friend's affliction. 
 
 Their tongues cry, "Dear! dear!" but they exult in their hearts. 
 
 Hope not, in this world, to find a friend, sincere and true; 
 For the sons of the present day are liypocrites and rogues. 
 
 There is neither love, nor affection, nor friendship in them : 
 By some craft they acquire ; for they are all the loaf's slaves. 
 
 The world's interests and profits are their object, and these they 
 
 pursue : 
 They are neither stedfixst on faitli's patli, n>n- infidels are they. 
 
 Like as they plot against the very heart's blood of one another. 
 In iKitcliing each other's ruin are wolves ever thus occupied ? 
 
ASHRAF KHAN. KHATTAK. 267 
 
 As yet, the day of doom hath not been viewed by human eye ; 
 But its operations* I, to-day, perceive j since all are for themselves. 
 
 Never yet have I found, in any one, either fidefity or truth ; 
 "Whether it be in brethren or kinsmen, iu relations or friends ! 
 
 Since I, The Separated, became acquainted with its secrets, 
 I find the world hath countless women, and but few, few men ! 
 
 * All ties will then be broken ; for all will be so much occupied with 
 their own affairs and interests, that they will pay no attention to others, 
 however dear they may have been in this world. 
 
iEABI)-UL-KADIR KHAN, 
 KHATTAK. 
 
 iDACD-UL-IvADm £hax, son of Khushhal Khan. Khattuk, and 
 brother of Ashraf, the subject of the preceding notice, was bom in 
 the year h. 10G3 (a.d. 1652), and is the most eloquent writer and 
 poet of all Khushhrd's sons, several of whom were poets of no mean 
 ability. Althuugli liis father had little reason to be very partial 
 ti)waids his sons generally, on account of their very lumatural 
 conduct, and inifaithfulncss towards himself, on too many occa- 
 sictns ; yet, upon the whole, ^Eabd-ul-Kadir appears to have been 
 a favourite, and to have shared considerably in his father's 
 affection. 
 
 /Eabd-ul-Kadir was as good at the sword as at the pen ; and in 
 the battle with the Mughal troops at Kottixh, a place in the vicinity 
 of the Peslhawar district, the victory of the confederate Afghans 
 was chiefly owing to the skill displayed by the poet on that occa- 
 sion ; and it was he also who led the assault against that fortress, 
 w hich, after three hoiu's of severe fighting, he captured. He after- 
 wanls distinguished himself, in like manner, in the war of Bangas^h, 
 during which operations he was wounded ; and the successes 
 gained in the war were celebrated in his name. 
 
 When his father abdicated the chieftainship of the tribe (iis 
 related in the notice of Khushhfd and his writings), and the sons 
 were each struggling to sujiplant each other, and grasp the vacant 
 HUthoritv, .l']ab(l-ul-Kridir did not hold back. He tried vcrv hard 
 
^ABD-UL-KADIR KHAN, KHATTAK. 26.9 
 
 to gain the chieftainship, but fortune was unpropitious ; and 
 Ash,raf, who, as the eldest son, had certainly the best right, was 
 chosen by his father and the tribe to succeed him. When Ashi-af 
 was betrayed into the hands of the Mughals, and sent by Aiu'angzeb 
 into the Dakhan as state prisoner, " Bahram the Malignant," the 
 brother, who had betrayed him, seized the chieftainship ; but, 
 subsequently, Afzal Khan, the son of Ashraf, became chief of the 
 clan. 
 
 To pay obedience to this nephew appears to have been extremely 
 difficult and bitter for ^Eabd-ul-Kadir, who wished to hold the 
 authority himself; and although the whole of his brothers, then 
 living, sided with him in his ambitious designs, it was of no avail ; 
 for the tribe were unanimous in faA'Our of Ashraf's son Afzal, in 
 whom was the hereditary right, as previously stated. The upshot, 
 however, was, that Afzal, the nephew, saw no other practicable 
 solution of the .difficulty, according to the custom of those days, 
 than to get rid of all rivals ; and, accordingly, ^abd-ul-Kadii-, 
 together with ten of his brothers, and a number of their sons, were 
 put to death, at the village of Zaman Garraey, in one day, and 
 buried in one grave ; thus escaping the sorrows and troubles of 
 chieftainship. 
 
 The poems of ^Eabd-ul-Kadir, which are deeply imbued with 
 Sufi mysticism, are thought very liighly of by the Af gh ans ; and 
 his language is extremely polished. His chief works, now known, 
 are a Dlwan or Collection of Odes, from which the following poems 
 are taken ; a translation of Molawi Jami's celebrated poem of Yusuf 
 and ZuliJAa, from the Persian, which is rendered by the translator 
 into the most difficult style of Eastern poetiy, and is considered 
 the most perfect of its kind in the A fgh an language ; the affecting 
 love tale of Adam and Durldiana'i — which tkree or foiu- other 
 authors have wiitteu on, both in verse and prose — together with 
 translations of Shaikh Sasedl's Gulistan and Bostan, from the Per- 
 
270 ^ABD-UL-KAI)IR KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 sian. He is said, by his descendants of the present day, to have 
 l>een the author of about sixty different works ; but with the 
 exception of a small volume on enigmas, charades, and verses of 
 mysterious meaning, even the names of them are now unknown. 
 
 Specimens of his Odes in the original Pus'hto, together with a 
 portion of Yusuf and Zidlkha, and the fii-st part of the Gidistau, 
 will be foimd in the " Gulshak-i-Roh," or Selections in the Afghan 
 Language, published by me last year. 
 
THE POEMS 
 
 OF 
 
 tEABd-ul-kadir khan. 
 
 KHATTAK. 
 
 I. 
 
 Arise, cupbearer ! bring the goblet ; for see, the leaves burst 
 
 forth ! 
 They give, uuto the parterre, the happy tidings of the coming of 
 
 spring. 
 
 In thy wine there is the intoxication of uniformity and sincerity, 
 That changeth my intellect's black and -white to one uniform tinge. 
 
 Like uuto ice, shall the heart of the tale-bearer melt aAvay altogether, 
 If the beloved, unto me, will show her countenance like the sun. 
 
 The black-eyed ones have not the fragrance of constancy within 
 
 them ; 
 On this point, regarding them, what hope shall any one indulge 1 
 
 He, who may be existing on affection and love, never, never, dieth ; 
 And the Almighty, too, is competent, my life, eternal to make. 
 
 With the whole heart she hath made away ; but, even yet, behold 
 What enchantments, charms, deceits, and spells she employeth still ! 
 
 What ! hath ^abd-ul-Kadir, this time, so benefited by her, 
 That he will place this much confidence in the beloved again 1 
 
272 .EARD-L'L-KADIR KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 11. 
 
 If I have my own friend chosen, with the censure attendant 
 
 thcroiin ; 
 The worUr.s cahininy and detraction I have accepted hkewise. 
 
 The pangs of separation from her would not have l)ccn so rn'eat, 
 Had I, when enjoying lier society, constantly lamented and wept. 
 
 Like imto the bee, I wijuld have clasped the rose for ever to my 
 
 breast, 
 Had I perceived in it the fragrance of constancy and faith. 
 
 They who, without asking, bestow, and mention not the obligation, 
 The generosity of them, above all others, have I ever prefen-ed. 
 
 For this reason, the envious wandereth about from door to door, 
 Because I have driven him away from the threshold of my abode. 
 
 yEABD-UL-KiDiR, at that time, everlasting life acquired, 
 Wlieu, with the sword of her glances, she deprived me of life. 
 
 III. 
 
 Behold ! the bee and the nightingale great folly commit, 
 
 Who, whilst the autumn is impending, give their love to the rose ! 
 
 For how long shall this lamp in the garden continue to burn 1 
 One day, tlie cold, boisterous blast of destiny shall extinguish it ! 
 
 Totally changed to rej)ulsivencss, in the morning becometh 
 Tlie prettiness of the glow-wonu, that, at night, giveth such eftul- 
 gcnce and light. 
 
iEABD-UL-KADIR KHAN, KHATTAK. 273 
 
 The covert polytlieist, equally with the open, appoareth unto them ; 
 For when do the sanctified, to the whole or the parts, cast their 
 eyesi* 
 
 The rose-bud openeth from the effect of the dew's moisture ; 
 But the humidity of wine rendereth still harder the niggard's 
 heart. 
 
 The spectators would declare the many beauties of her countenance; 
 But amazement calleth out to them the more silent to remain. 
 
 Thy pen, J^abd-ul-Kadir ! became, of nuisk, the diffuscr ; 
 Since thou greatly praisest the curls and ringlets of the fair. 
 
 IV. 
 
 'Wliether it be chieftainship, or lordliness, or a monarch's sway; 
 If thou perceivest, they are all fruitless trouble and anxiety. 
 
 Without the fair, both life and death, are one and the same thing ; 
 For the sake of the dear ones, alone, is existence of any usefulness. 
 
 By fate, the curls of the beloved must have been destined 
 For the derangement and disorder of my heart, from the beginning 
 of time. 
 
 It is through inebriation, that the goblet hath fallen to the ground : 
 Account it not rage or anger, cupbearer ! 't is but the levity of 
 youth. 
 
 At the errors of the wise, indignation and reproach are levelled ; 
 But the excuse of fools is their own ignorance and foolishness. 
 
 Thou wilt either give some one's dwelling to the flames, or shed 
 
 his blood ; 
 Seeing that thou hast donned garments of the Arghowan's red hue.t 
 
 * See Introduction, pa^e xi. f See note at png-e 11 !. 
 
274 /EA1JD-UL-KAI)IK KHAN', KHATTAK. 
 
 Tlie fire of love shall come forth from the earth over the graves 
 Of all, whose affection for their love, from the soul itself pro- 
 ceedeth. 
 
 I will leave the walls of the cloister, and go oiit unto the tavern ; 
 For therein is to be found safety from this, and the next world's 
 ills. 
 
 The univei-se licth under the seal of content and resignation : 
 Shouldst thou draw it on thy finger, it is Sullman's magic ring.* 
 
 The red tears that course each other down thy checks, ^Eabd-ul- 
 
 Kadir ! 
 Are a sumptuous banquet of rubies for thine own dear friend. 
 
 When I beheld the beloved with my rivals associated, 
 
 I would cry out and complain, coupled with ])icrcing cries. 
 
 The min-or of the lieart becometh bright tlirough humility ; 
 Hence, too, the meek and lowly are conjoined with the dust. 
 
 'T was from the heart's anguish, that the nightingale bewailed, 
 Because he perceived the sharp thoni with the rose entwined. 
 
 But like unto a thorn, indeed, eveiy flower my heart pierceth, 
 Wlienever, without thee with me, I enter the purton-e. 
 
 Through thy curls my heart hath become iitterly deranged : 
 Let not then, God, any Muslim be with Hindf connected ! 
 
 * The niii^ic riiifr of Solomon, wliidi was .suppo.'^ed to reveal all thinirs. 
 •j- India, tlif countiy of dark ])eople, i.s comi>ared to the dark curls ot" 
 the beloved. 
 
^EABD-UL-KADIll KgAN, KHATTAK. 275 
 
 Folly keepeth the fool ever occupied in delight and pleasure ; 
 But prudence immerseth the wi«e in the river of care and woe. 
 
 Since, at last, departure therefrom is with great grief attended, 
 ^ABD-UL-IvADiR will have naught to do with this place of spring. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Although it may be bitter, still swallow the wine of thy wi-ath : 
 Act not unjustly or tyrannically towai-ds any one, upright man 
 
 The falcon, that drinketh the blood of his quarry, dieth full soon : 
 Resti-ain thyself, then, my heart ! from such ensanguined food. 
 
 There is no need of manacle, or fetter, or diuigeon, to restrain them ; 
 For the words of the wise are fettered in the prison of the mouth. 
 
 Eveiy mild and gentle being, who clemency's armour weareth, 
 Is not pierced with the arrows of fortmie's reverses and mishaps. 
 
 He who falleth from the heart's high rock is dashed to atoms : 
 Let not the Almighty, then, cast any one from such a rock as this ! 
 
 Though men, in origin are one, yet their diversity is excessive ; 
 Since one is equal to one, one to a hundred, one to a thousand 
 others. 
 
 For a single dinar* a hundred pearls may be purchased ; 
 And a single pearl is, likewise, for a hundred dinars bought. 
 
 * The name of a gold coin current in Persia and Arabia, a ducat. 
 
 T 2 
 
276 ^ABD-UL-KADIR ITT AN, ^ATTAK. 
 
 Whether monarch, or whether nobles, thou tliysclf shalt outvie 
 
 them ; 
 Fur thou, ^abd-ul-Kadih ! on any one, placest not thy hopes. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Why scomest thou me, fair one ! who so ill-fixvoured am ? 
 'T is destiny's doings that made me ungraceful ; thee, lovely to 
 behold ! 
 
 Come once again, and upon the flowers cast thine eyes once more, 
 zephyr of the moi-n ! that thou mayest imclose the folded bud 
 anew ! 
 
 In thy absence, the i*osc would tear its own breast into a lumdrcd 
 
 shi-eds ; 
 And the cypress, O channcr ! from separation, woidd in tears 
 
 dissolve. 
 
 Why, rose ! tumest thou thy face away from the lovelorn 
 
 nightingale ? 
 For even with these channs of thine, his wails have famous made 
 
 thee. 
 
 When thou castest the fragi'ant aud* into the tire, it yieldeth more 
 
 perfume ; 
 And I will constancy increase, if thou thy injustice shouldst 
 
 augment. 
 
 Thou ai-t the smi of beauty, and all these other beauteous ones are 
 
 stars : 
 They will into nothingness vanish, if thoii shouldst show thy face. 
 
 * ITie reud, or wood aloes, celebrated for its fragrance. 
 
.EABD-UL-KADITl KHAN, KHATTAK. 277 
 
 TIioxi always designatest ^abd-ul-Kadir as hypocrite and de- 
 ceiver ; 
 But mayest thou, elsewhere, a more sincere lover find than he ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Was it a pearl that was observed the nose-jewel within, 
 
 Or was it a sparkling dew-di'op upon the Ar^owan's breast ? 
 
 Musk-deer from flir-oft' Khutan are both those eyes of thine, 
 That ever graze the sjDikenard and sweet basil upon. 
 
 I can discover naught on earth in comparison to thine eyebrows ; 
 But I have found somewhat of similarity in the heaven's arch. 
 
 What connection is there between pearls and the teeth of the 
 
 dear one 1 
 Those are in the oyster's bosom — the teeth are in her mouth. 
 
 Because the poets were wont with thy lips to compare it, 
 The ruby became mortified, and fled back to the mine. 
 
 No one is capable of giving an explanation of their sweetness ; 
 For the ambrosial nectar of Paradise is indigenous to thy lips. 
 
 When I look upon thy face, I am at the Almighty's works amazed, 
 Seeing that He presei-veth thee safe and uninjiu-ed from its glow.* 
 
 I have well examined the display of the flowers of the universe ; 
 But there is no flower like thee in any one of its parterres. 
 
 In gratitude, that He hath bestowed such curls upon thee, 
 By them, draw out those immersed in the well of thy chin If 
 
 * Alluding" to the rosy colour of the cheeks. 
 f The dimple of the chin. 
 
278 ^ABD-UL-KADIR KHAN. KHATTAK. 
 
 Those in thy presence, from modesty, know not what to say ; 
 ^Vhilst those absent, describe thee by metaphor and simile. 
 
 Close well, then, thine eyes, jEabd-ul-Kadir ! all things upon ; 
 And then, within thyself, do thou the whole imiverse survey ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 At last, he will depart from it, his heart with anguish seared ; 
 Bootlessly, then, the gardener prideth liimself on this parten-e ! 
 
 They who may have entered within the tavern of the world, 
 Shall all, in their turn, drink out of death's fatal cup ! 
 
 He merely guardeth the portion of others, for they will take it ; 
 Wherefore, then, is the rich man of his wealth so very vain ? 
 
 He doth not revel, like the nightingale, among the roses ; 
 But he sitteth perched, like a crow, a rotten carcass upon. 
 
 Sovereigns search about for it, bxit by beggars it is found ; 
 Whether it be rest, or tranquillity ; or peace, or repose. 
 
 The radiance of the lamp cannot be found within the tomb, 
 Except thou shouldst the lamp of sighs carry with thee there. 
 
 These are red tears thou seest, by unhappy Majnun* shed ; 
 For the tidip hath not bloomed, either in upland or in mead. 
 
 Set out, iEABD-UL-KADin ! upon the path of inexistence ; 
 Haply thou mayest find therein ti-ace of the dear one's door ! 
 
 X. 
 
 ^Vhereas tlio oyster with a single drop of rain-water is satisfied,-! 
 Its priceless pearls go out into every countiy, and every clime. 
 
 * See note at page 29. 
 
 t The pearl is supposed to be produced from a .-ini;le drop of rain-wnler. 
 
yEABD-UL-KADIR KHAN, KIIATTAK. 279 
 
 If thoxi seek aftei* honour, be tlieii with thy lot content ! 
 
 Shouldst thou to eminence aspire, of what thou hast, hberally give ! 
 
 The ties of the wealth of the world are the bonds of Hell ; 
 Hence the free and noble placed it on the palms of their hands. 
 
 I have with mine own eyes well watched the woi-ld's people — 
 One amasseth wealth with great avarice ; another wasteth it away. 
 
 Since life itself is not perpetual, what then advautageth it, 
 Though one, in magnificence, a Suliman, or an Asaf* be 1 
 
 A man's superiority, in wisdom and knowledge consisteth ; 
 The beast's, in grazing ; and on hay, and on grass, growing fat. 
 
 If thou art magnanimoiis, pain not the hearts of others ; 
 
 But make thine heai't the target of the arrows of good and bad ! 
 
 ^abd-ul-Kadir ! have the fear of God ever before thee ; 
 For imto them that fear, He hath said, "Fear thou not !"t 
 
 XI. 
 
 Tliis exclamation from the nightingale at day-dawii reached my 
 
 eai" — 
 " rose ! thy merriment hath plunged me into sorrow and tears !" 
 
 Its languid effect is far more exquisite than its intoxication ; 
 But the sleepy languor of thine eyes exceedeth that of wine. 
 
 The fair ones of the present day are worshippers of Mammon — 
 In their alley, without wealth's appliances, place not thy foot ! 
 
 * The name of a great man, supposed to have been Solomon's prime 
 minister. 
 
 f And God said unto him, " Moses ! draw near and fear not, for thou 
 art safe." — Al Kur'ajj. 
 
280 .tlABD-UL-KADlK, KHAN KHATTAK. 
 
 Mj luve for the dear one increaseth from thy detractions ; 
 Then, traducer ! as much as thy lieart desireth disparage her ! 
 
 From distressing thoughts and cares the mind becometh distracted 
 But the heart acquireth comfort from reUance and resignation. 
 
 May the Almighty never leave those eyes from albugo free, 
 Which, when thy face may bo visible, sliall look upon a rose ! 
 
 Tliou art, when seated, the light of the whole assembly : 
 What matter, then, tho' the dawn of day the lamp extinguish ? 
 
 Whoii thou givest me wine, laugh heartily, cupbearer ! 
 Learn thou tliis from the merry gurgle of the flask of wine ! 
 
 There is, doubtless, a difference in the sight of the beholders ; 
 And if not so, the parts are by no means distinct from the whole.* 
 
 Metaphorically, this world is like unto eternity's bridge ; 
 Then, O .Eabd-ul-Kadir, do thou over it swiftly pass ! 
 
 XII. 
 
 [n the world, there is no perfection without declination ; 
 Then, on account of declination, mourn, perfect man ! 
 
 The dread of separation was as bitter as absence itself ; 
 Hence from association I never any pleasui'C derived. 
 
 From tliee, the sun hmiinous grew, imd from it the moon : 
 Who then, with thy face shall the full moon compai-e ? 
 
 At thy (loiiarturo, my very soul even deserteth the body; 
 But do not thou for a moment leave me, image of my love ! 
 
 * See Iiitiixluctiirv I{eniarks, jm^e xi. 
 
^ABD-UL-KADIR KgAN, KHATTAK. 281 
 
 Since I did not die when Beparated from her ; ou meeting, 
 I am so asliamed that I am unable to look her in the face. 
 
 The same who hath inflicted the wound upon my heart, 
 Hath also applied the soft bandage thereimto. 
 
 Shouldst thou pass the alley of the beloved of my heart, 
 Deliver, zephyi- of the morning ! this message unto her — 
 
 " Tho', without thee, I am not one moment from sorrow free ; 
 Yet, ever joyful and gay, may the Almighty keep thee !" 
 
 With much sorrow, many loving ones have been torn away — 
 May God never send unto us the Ghowas year* again ! 
 
 The fragrance of musk and amber emanateth from every word, 
 "When Ji]abd-ul-Kadir praiseth that black mole of thine. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 The flowers of spring have put forth their blossoms in garden and 
 
 in mead : 
 On the hoiTse-tops there are flowers, in the lanes, and in the 
 
 hedges too. 
 
 The stones, the bushes, the thorns, the weeds — aU are by flowers 
 
 hidden : 
 Of every blemish and defect the flowers have the concealers become. 
 
 Wherever the eyesight may be directed, all, all are flowers there — 
 Flowers in front, and flowers behind — flowers on eveiy side. 
 
 * According? to the Abjad, or an an-ang'ement of the letters of the 
 Arabic alphabet for numbers in chroiiogTams, the letters gh, ro, a, and «, 
 sigiiify the year 1097 of the Hijrali (a.d. 1685), in which a terrible plag'ue 
 is said to have raged throughout Afghanistan and the adjacent countries. 
 
282 -SABD-UL-KADIR KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 No single spot whatever is of fragrant flowers left devoid — 
 Flowers iu the market, flowers in the wilds, flowers in the hills. 
 
 The nightingale, to revel and disport, with a loud voice, crieth out ; 
 For the spring passeth away, and every moment the flowers fade 
 and decay ! 
 
 The youths and maidens, in their gambols and revelry, place 
 Flowers in their hair, flowers in their bosoms, flowers in their 
 turbans. 
 
 The entire person of the beloved is of fragrant flowers composed — 
 Her feet are flowers, her hands flowers, her sweet face flowers 
 also. 
 
 Let the wine be rosy, the goblet rosy, the wine-flask rosy hkewise ! 
 The cui)bcarer a flower, the associates flowers, the scene all flowers 
 too ! 
 
 ^\^len she smelleth imto a flower, let great caution be observed. 
 Lest on her tender, delicate lips, the flower a wound shoxUd inflict. 
 
 Gentle and simple, they have filled with delight by their display — 
 Till- flowers have, on every one, a load of obligation conferred. 
 
 But tliough flowers may have bloomed of a thousand hues, 
 
 No flower hatli been seen like unto the beloved one of my heart. 
 
 That they thus hcai-tily laugh, with such gladness and such glee. 
 What ! of autunui's near approach, are not the flowei-s aware ? 
 
 Since in them may be seen the emblem of his own loved one ; 
 ./Eabd-ul-Kaiiir thus remembereth the flowei-s in his strains. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 'I'ho folks of the world give us their admonitions most unjustly; 
 For every man j)leaseth liiinsclf acx'ta'ding t<.) his own mind. 
 
^ABD-UL-KADIR KHAN. KHATTAK. 283 
 
 \Vliat have others to do with ua, forsooth, that they restrain us, 
 If, for the sake of tlie beloved, we sacrifice life aud goods 1 
 
 Wlieu love, like a mighty river, hath overflowed the heart, 
 Doth auy one attempt a dam to raise on the face of the flood 1 
 
 By the severance of all worldly concerns, sanctity is acquired ; 
 But not by saddling oneself with worldly obligations aud ties. 
 
 Involuntarily, and impulsively, the heart is given to the fair : 
 This matter is not brought about by counsel, or such like things. 
 
 The binites chew the cud upon their food ; but it behoveth man 
 To ruminate upon cveiy word that issueth from his mouth. 
 
 As long, J^^abd-ul-Kadir ! as thy strains may be repeated. 
 From them flow so many varying, and delightful sweets. 
 
 XV. 
 
 If the surface of thy face be not soiled, be under no concern ; 
 And the mirror of my heart, too, is not by rust affected. 
 
 ^\^lOSoever cometh near pitch, becometh defiled ; 
 Then get thee away behind me, thou so very white ! 
 
 He, whose heart hath consumed in the flames of love, 
 What apprehension need he have of the fire of Hell ? 
 
 She would make the dark night one of moonhght to her lover, 
 If the moon-faced one would draw aside the veil from her face. 
 
 From time to time, every thing hath gone out of my heart, 
 Save the remembrance of the fair, that will never depart. 
 
 'Tis from the wails of the nightingale it is thus so affected — 
 This rose-bud, that rendeth its garment into shreds. 
 
284 .'eabd-ul-kAdiu khan, khattak. 
 
 All else is a mere vail, save the love of the Deity : 
 Then, ^aud-ul-Kadih, do thou no other love pursue ! 
 
 XVI. 
 
 On ascending to the teiracc-roof of wealth, show thou no arrogance ; 
 But always have before thine eyes the fear of falling therefrom ! 
 
 It hath niised up many, and dashed them again to the ground : 
 Fortune's wheel raiseth uppermost, that it may again cast down. 
 
 At the outset, acquire thou the wings of affection and love, 
 If of soaring in the heavens thou the intention nourish. 
 
 '^rhey whose hearts beauty's face may not with love inspire, 
 Thcii" countenances are not worthy even to be looked u])on ! 
 
 I would say, I should go and consort with the dogs at her door ; 
 But she would not, even then, one day, say to me " Come here !" 
 
 Since mine eyes became not blind,* from the absence of my love. 
 With all my heait I am now willing they shoiUd go out of my 
 head. 
 
 Through contentment, and not through gold, is opulence acquired : 
 The wliiteness of the heart is essential, not the whiteness of the 
 hair. 
 
 Thou hast rendered it sweeter than Persian, .(E.vbd-ul-Kadir ! 
 Although the PusTito language was so bitter before. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Since the heart is torn from it, in the end, in anguish and woe, 
 Wliy do people set their hearts this fleeting world uj)on ? 
 
 • From excessive weeping. 
 
^ABD-UL-KADIR KHAN. KHATTAK. 285 
 
 From this garden's roses, constancy's fragrance cmanateth not : 
 iMdst unjustly do the nightingales hazard their hearts upon them. 
 
 Since the thought of the curls of the beloved is dishevelled and 
 
 deranged, 
 Let my heai-t be disordered for ever ! let it never be composed ! 
 
 So hard, so pitiless, and so regardless, as is that heai-t of thine, 
 There will be none other like it, the whole universe within ! 
 
 AVlierever its ravisher may be, there will the heart be also ; 
 
 For when do the heart-ravishers in their breasts retain their hearts ? 
 
 '\\T;iy hast Thou, God ! my heart filled with a giddy feir one's 
 
 love 1 
 That, though guiltless of any faidt, every moment the heart 
 
 aiSicteth. 
 
 Proximity and remoteness — conjunction and separation — will be all 
 
 one to him. 
 Whoso heart hath a place acquired in immateriality's abode. 
 
 The flames of Hell I accept, with all my heart, a hundred times 
 
 over ; 
 But God forbid that in separation's fire the heart be consumed ! 
 
 Eat ! di'ink wine ! raise the song ! do all, ^abd-ul-Kadir ! 
 But this one thino; — do not thou the heart of the ^Muslim afilict ! 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 cupbearer ! unto me such a cup of forgetfidness give, 
 That on quafl&ng it I may oblivious and insensate become ! 
 
286 .EABD-UL-^ADIll KHAN', KHATTAK. 
 
 Reproached and reviled by the world, to the deserts and wilds 
 
 I flee ; 
 Like even unto Majnun, I make the wilderness my home. 
 
 The fruit of its aims and desires, it shall then eat therefrom, 
 "When the grain, in the earth, shall itself to extinction give. 
 
 Since it is filled with the conceptions of the faces of the lair, 
 The pict\ire gallery of Mani,* tliis mind of mine must be. 
 
 My heart becometh, through envy and jealousy, to pieces torn, 
 "Wlieu her fingers draw the comb through her flowing hair. 
 
 For a minstrel, in the spring-time, I liave no necessity ; 
 The sweet melody of the niglitiugale is sutiicicnt for me. 
 
 Nightly, in my dwelling, with this intent, I gather a party togethei-, 
 That possibly, under this plea, the charmer might attend. 
 
 As an inducement, that he shoiUd risk his life to obtain it. 
 The diver desireth that the oyster-shell a pearl should contain. 
 
 A hvmdred times over, .^abd-ul-Kadir woidd sacrifice it for her. 
 If, by parting with his head, he might his loved one obtain. 
 
 * A celebrated Persian painter, who, about the middle of tlie third cen- 
 tury of our era, gave out that he was the promised paraclete of our Lord ; 
 nnd soon established a numerous sect known as Maniobieans. He fled 
 into Tartary through foar of the Persian king Shajnir (.^ajior), where he 
 amused himself by drawing a nuinl)er of singular figures in a book calleil 
 ErtiJig ; and, on his return, told bis discij)les that be bad obtnuied it from 
 the angels in Heaven, where he pretended to have been during his 
 retreat. 
 
AHMAD SHAH, ABDALl, 
 
 SHAH DURE-I-DURRAN* 
 
 Ahjfad Shah, the founder of the Durrani monarchy, rose from 
 the mere character of a partisan, to a distin,2:uished command in 
 the service of the Persian conqueror, Nadir Shah. Of the family of 
 the Saddozis, and chief of the tribe of Abdah, the most ilhistrious 
 fomily of the Af gh ans, he was, in his youth, imprisoned in a 
 fortress, with his elder brother Zu-1-fikar Khan, by Husain Khan, 
 governor of Kandahar for the Ghalzis, which powerful tribe of 
 A fgh ans, after overrunning the whole of Persia, had, a few years 
 previously, trodden the throne of the Sufis in the dust, and con- 
 quered that mighty empire. 
 
 Ahmad Shah and his brother, whose tribe were at feud with the 
 Ghalzis, owed their freedom to Nadir Shilh, who in the year a.d. 
 1736-37, laid siege to Kandahar, which he captured. The brothers, 
 with a powerful body of their clansmen, followed the fortunes of 
 the conqueror, and gi-eatly distinguished themselves in the war 
 with the Turks ; and were rewarded with the lands now held by 
 the Durrani tribe in the vicinity of Kandahar. 
 
 On the day subsequent to the murder of Nadir Shah, {the par- 
 ticulars of which, as belonging to Persian history, need not be here 
 detailed, although one among the causes of it has been attributed to 
 his attachment to the Afghan troops in his serv'ice) a battle ensued 
 
 * Durr-i-Durran sig-nifies, " Tlie Pearl of the DuiTanis," a name wliic:li 
 the Abdalis acquired from wearing pearls in their ears. 
 
288 AHMAD SHAH, ABDALI. 
 
 between the Persians on the one side, and the Afghans and Uzbo.ks 
 on the other ; but tlie event docs not appear to have decided 
 any thing. But after this afHiir, Ahmad Shah saw that no time 
 was to be lost in looking to the safety of himself and clansmen, and 
 ho accordingly fought his way through the greater part of Khmfi- 
 san with a small force of between 2000 and 3000 horsemen, and 
 repaired, by rapid marches, to Kandahar, which had now become 
 the head-quarters of the Abdall tribe, and chief city of south- 
 western A fgh anistan. Here he intercepted an immense treasiu-e, 
 which had been sent from India for the use of Nadir Shrdi, which 
 .(Vhmad appropriated, after compelling the Dun-anis, who had fii-st 
 siezed upon it, to give it up. 
 
 In October of the same yeai', Ahmad, then but twenty-three 
 years old, assumed the title of Shah or King of iVfghanistan, and 
 was crowned at Kandahfir, with gi'eat pomp, the difterent chiefs of 
 the various xVfghan ti'ibcs, with but few exceptions, and the Kazal- 
 baahos, Baluchls, and Hazamhs, assisting ; thus laying the foimda- 
 tiou of the Dun'unI monarchy. And although the waiiike and 
 independent people, who now became his subjects, had never been 
 accustomed to a sovereign's yoke, save in being compelled to pay 
 tribute to a foreign ruler ; yet such were his energy and capacity 
 for government, that he was successful in gaining the affection of 
 his own tribe ; and with the exception of the (JlialzTs, ever a most 
 turbulent and unruly sept, he succeeded in instilling among the other 
 Afghan tribes a spirit of attachment to their native monarch ; and 
 also in othci*s, not Afghans, but dwelling in Afghanistan. With the 
 Baluch and Hazarah tribes, his neighboui's, he formed an ofteusive 
 and defensive alliance. 
 
 Having first brought the i-efmctory Ghalzis into subjection, 
 Ahmad Shah bt-gau his conquests ; and such was the miinterrupted 
 tide of his success, that by the .summer of 17")1 ho iuul conquered 
 the whole of the countries, extending as far west a.s Nigliapur in 
 
AHMAD SHAIT, ABDALT. 289 
 
 Persian Khurasan. In 1752 he conquered Kashmir, and obtained 
 from the i\[u gh al Emperor of Hindustan, a cession of the whole of 
 the tract of country as far east as Sirhind, thus laying the founda- 
 tion of a kingdom, which soon Iiecame formidable to siuTounding 
 nations. 
 
 Ahmad Shrdi had now leisure to turn his attention to internal 
 affairs, and to the settlement of Afghanistan and the newly-acquired 
 provinces. He thus passed the next four years in tranquillity, and 
 appears to have had time to devote himself to literature. He used 
 to hold, at stated periods, what is termed a Majlis-i-seulama, or 
 Assembly of the Learned, the early part of which was generally 
 devoted to divinity and civil law — for Ahmad Shrdi himself was a 
 MolawF* — and concluded wdth conversations on science and poetiy. 
 He wi'ote a Collection of Odes in Pus'hto. his own native tongue, 
 tinged, as usual, with the mysticisms of the Sufis, and from that 
 work the following specimens have been taken. The work is scarce, 
 particularly in eastern Afghanistan. He was also the author of 
 several poems in the Persian language. 
 
 In the year 1756 Ahmad Shah had again to buckle on the sword, 
 and advance into the Panjab, which the Mughals about this time 
 attempted to recover ; but he quickly regained all that had been 
 lost ; drove them out of the Panjab ; and advanced straight upon 
 DilhT, wdiich he entered after but a faint opposition. His troops 
 having become sickly, from passing the whole of the hot season in 
 India, warned Ahniad Shah to retiu-n, which he did soon after, 
 having compelled the Mughal Emperor to bestow the Panjab and 
 Sindh upon his son Timur, who had already been married to a 
 Mughal princess. Ahmad Shah passed the next winter at Kanda- 
 har ; but was obliged to set out soon after, for the purpose of 
 queUing disturbances in Persia and Turkistan. 
 
 * A term equivalent to Doctor of hiterature or Divinity. 
 U 
 
290 AHMAD SHAH, ABUALl. 
 
 Dxiring the next year, matters had gone on badly in India ; and 
 Prince Timur was unable to stem the tide of Maharata conquest, 
 which had now rolled tipon the Panjiib. The Mahanitas had taken 
 Sirhiud, and were advancing from the west, which put Prince 
 Tlniiir midcr the necessity of retiring across the Indus with liis 
 troops. The Muharatas, being now unopposed, pushed on as far as 
 the Hydaspes or Jhlluni, and also detached a force to take posses- 
 sion of Multuu. 
 
 These events happened in the summer of 1758; and Ahmad 
 Shah was preparing to march into India, when he was detained by 
 the rebellion of the Baluchls ; and although this matter was subse- 
 quently settled by negociation, it was not until the winter of 17.09 
 that he coxdd cross the Indus and advance towards Hindustan, the 
 Muharatas retreating before him towards DilhT, with the intent ion 
 of covering that city. After totally defeating them at Budli, Ahmad 
 Shah again captured Dilhl. He afterwards pursued his conquests in 
 the Do-ab ; but subsequently encamped at a place near Anup-shaln-, 
 where, being joined by the WazTr of Hindustan, with the few 
 available troops of the Mughal Emperor, he prepai-ed for passing the 
 monsoon, or i*ainy season, and for the final stniggle with the 
 Maliumtas, upon which the fate of India rested. 
 
 The strength of Ahmad Shah's army consisted of 41,800 horse, 
 his own subjects, on whom he chiefly relied ; 28,000 Rohilahs — 
 Afghans, who were descended from those tribes who had emigrated 
 from Af gh anistan at different periods, and settled in India* — and 
 about 10,000 Hindustani troops, under their own chiefs. He had 
 also 700 zamhurahs, or camel swivels, small pieces cju-iying balls of 
 about a pound weight, and a few pieces of artillery. 
 
 The Maharata anny, under Wiswfis Riio, and Sheddasheo Riio — 
 
 * Also called PaUuns in India; but the iinine, like that of Rohilah, is 
 apiilicable to Afghfins gpiifrally. 
 
AHMAD SEAH, ABDAlJ. 291 
 
 better known as the Bhow — consisted of about 70,000 liorse, 15,000 
 infantiy, tmiiied after the European fixshion, and 200 pieces of 
 artillery, besides numberless shufirrndls, or zamburaks. 
 
 At length, on the 7th of January 1761, after facing each other 
 for some months, the Maharatas, who had been blockaded in their 
 own intrenched camp at Panlpatt, a few miles from Dilhi, were, 
 from the extremities to which they were put, for want of food and 
 forage, under the necessity of attacking the Durrani army. The 
 details of this great and important battle need not be enlarged on 
 here : suffice it to say, that Ahmad Shah was completely successful. 
 The jNlaharatas were entirely defeated and put to flight ; and 
 Wiwas Rao, the heir-apparent of the Maharata empire, and almost 
 the whole of the army, perished in the flight or j)ursuit. 
 
 The crowning victory at Panlpatt, which was fatal to the power 
 of the Maharatas, laid Hindustan at the feet of Ahmad Shah ; but 
 lie, seeing the difficulty of retaining so remote a dominion, adhered 
 to the wise plan he had, from the first, carved out, and contented 
 himself with that portion of India that had foi-merly been ceded 
 to him, bestowing the rest on such native chiefs as had aided him 
 in the stniggle. 
 
 In the spring of 1761, Ahmad Shah returned to Kabul ; and from 
 that period, up to the spring of 1773, was actively employed 
 against foreign and domestic foes ; but at that time his health, 
 which had been long declining, continued to get worse, and pre- 
 vented his engaging in any foreign expeditions. His complaint 
 was a cancer in the face, which had afflicted him first in 1764, and 
 at last occasioned his death. He died at Mm-ghah, in Afghanistan, 
 in the beginning of June 1773, in the fiftieth year of his age. 
 
 Tlie countries imder his dominion extended, at the time of his 
 death, from the west of Khurasan, to Sirhind on the Jumna, and 
 from the Oxus to the Indian Ocean, all either secured by treaty, oi- 
 in actual possession. 
 
 u 2 
 
292 AHMAD SHAH, ABDALl. 
 
 The diameter of Ahmad Shfih has been so adniirabl}' depicted 
 by Mountstuart Eli)hinstone,* that I shall not hesitate to give it 
 here in full. 
 
 "The chai-acter of Ahmad Shall appcare to have been admirably 
 suited to the situation in which he was placed. His enterprise 
 and decision enabled him to profit by the confusion that followed 
 the death of Nadir, and the prudence and moderation, which he 
 acquired from his dealings with his owii nation, were no less 
 necessaiy to govern a warlike and independent people, than the 
 bold and commanding turn of his own genius. 
 
 " His military coin-age and activity are spoken of with admiration, 
 both by his o^vn subjects, and the nations with whom he was 
 engaged, either in wars or alliances. He seems to have been 
 naturally disposed to mildness and clemency ; and though it is 
 imj)ossil)le to acquire sovereign power, and perhaps, in Asia, to 
 maintain it, without crimes; yet the memory of no Eastern Prince 
 is stained with fewer acts of cmelty and injustice. 
 
 " In his personal character he seems to have been cheerful, 
 affable, and good-natured. He maintained considerable dignity <^n 
 state occasions, but at other times his mannei-s were plain anti 
 familiar ; and with the DurranTs he kept up the same equal and 
 popular demeanour which was nsual with their Khans or Chiefs 
 befoi'e they assumed the title of King. He treated Moollahs and 
 - holy men with great respect, both from policy and inclination. He 
 was himself a divine and an author, and was always ambitions of 
 tliL' character of a saint. 
 
 " His jx)licy towards the different jiarts of his dominions was ti> 
 rely jirincipally on conciliation with the Afghans and Baluchis ; 
 with this difference Vietween the nations, that he applied himself to 
 the whole people in the first case, and only to the chief in the 
 
 * *' Account ok tuk Kinc;dom ok Caubul.'' 
 
AHMAD SHAH, ABDALl. 293 
 
 other. His possessions in Turkistan he kej)t under by force ; but 
 left the Tartar chiefs of the country unremoved, and used them 
 with moderation. The Indian provinces were kept by force alone ; 
 and in Khm'asau he trusted to the attachment of some chiefs, took 
 hostages from others, and was ready to carry his arms against any 
 who disturbed his plans. 
 
 The handsome tomb of Ahmad Shah stands near the palace at 
 Kandahar. It is held in great estimation by the Durranis, and is 
 respected as a sanctuary, no one venturing to touch one who has 
 taken refuge there. It is not uncommon for persons of even the 
 highest rank, to give up the world, and spend their lives at the 
 monarch's tomb ; and certainly, if ever an Asiatic King deserved 
 the gratitude of his country, it was Ahmad Shah, the " Pearl of the 
 Durranis." 
 
 Ahmad Shah was the grandfather of the unfortunate Shah- 
 Shuj ase-ul-Mulk, whom the British re-seated on the throne of the 
 Durranis in 1839, which affair terminated so unfortunately for all 
 concerned. 
 
THE POEMS 
 
 AHMAD SHAH, ABDALf. 
 
 I. 
 
 To this degree is the heart affected by the love of Layla, 
 That Majnuii, for aye, uttereth the praises of Layla.* 
 
 He repeated no other lesson whatever, in this world, 
 Save that, on the black mole, and the ringlets of Layla. 
 
 This, unto him, is sleep, from pain and anguish free, 
 
 That he be occupied, day and night, with thoughts of Layla. 
 
 If, by the sword of anguish, he to death's agonies be brought, 
 He grieveth not, so that it be in the presence of Layla. 
 
 Lovers, that cry out, " Layla ! Layla !" and mourn and bewail- 
 Ivill the body, and make it innnortal, by the name of Layla. 
 
 He desireth grief out of excessive woe, but findeth it not : 
 The lover is ever happy, in gi*icf and soitow for Layla. 
 
 The whole of his love-pangs will, in a moment, disixpi)car. 
 When the long sought interview is brought about with Layla. 
 
 Draw near, Ahmad Shah! leani thou love from Majnun! 
 For he is famous, in the world, for his love of Layla. 
 
 * .See note at page 29, and Introduction, page xx. 
 
AHMAD SHAH, ABDALI. 295 
 
 II. 
 
 Lay thine hand very gently upon me, physician ! 
 Behold my condition, and take pity upon me, m}^ beloved ! 
 
 My heart, for this reason, is wholly filled with anguish. 
 That, thro' evil destiny, it bcholdeth not its dear one near. 
 
 She is perfect and exquisite, in the excess of her beauty ; 
 Hence my heart, distracted and disordered, raveth for her. 
 
 Tho' the dear one, by her mouth, many favours couferreth ; 
 Still, every one receiveth the portion, by destiny decreed. 
 
 Notwithstanding, when I make many s^lpplications unto her, 
 She saith unto me, "Grieve not, poor soul ! I am thine !" 
 
 But next day, when I approach her, then, my friend ! 
 
 She saith, "Who is it 1 wherefore hath the rude fellow come V 
 
 Tho' I would tear her from my heart, yet it will not be ; 
 For she is, by nature, exceedingly generous, and noble withal. 
 
 The long sable locks hang her fair white face about — 
 She is gay and cheerful in dis];)Osition, and elegant in form. 
 
 Since God hath given unto the heart-ravisher the rose's beauty, 
 Wherefore shoidd not the nightingale lover weep and bewail 1 
 
 AhMxVD SHxVH ! the parrot-like soid weepeth and is sad : 
 It hath come again, destiny ! from the country of its love. 
 
 III. 
 
 May God annihilate thee, thou fly of human nature ! 
 
 For no one mouth will have been left unpolluted by thy kiss ! 
 
21)G AHMAD SHAH, AiiDALl. 
 
 Every wound, tliat lujiy be thy jjliice of alighting upon, 
 Will f(jr ever be afflicted with the irritation of thine eggs. 
 
 Thou deafonest the ears of the whole world, with thy din ; 
 Still thy mouth bccometh not mute of its iinpleas;mt buzz. 
 
 The whole world, through thee, luith into mere calrion tiuiied ; 
 Yet BorrowfuUy, and in spite, wringest thou still thine hands.* 
 
 thoughtless man ! follow not the nature of the fly ! 
 These seeing eyes of thine from their ophthalmia cure ! 
 
 Thou art the servant ; then do thou the Almighty seek ! 
 Existence, without God, consider utterly valueless and vain ! 
 
 TiUie imto thee implicit faith ; and scepticism's dark house, 
 Thereby shalt thou whiten with the whiteness of its lime. 
 
 Lowliness and humility are the height of ])erfection for thee : 
 The fieiy nature of carnality, from pep])cr, tjike thou not ! 
 
 Thine own original element thou wilt ag-ain obtain, 
 
 When the neck of thy pride thou shalt from the yoke set free. 
 
 Seize thou, Ahmad Shah ! the good sword of courage ; 
 
 And the Hindu temptations of the devil expel from thy breast ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Alas ! alas ! for the dreadful, rolling rock of bereavement ; 
 That for aye committeth such ravages loving hearts upon ! 
 
 It Bcatteretli and separateth kind friends in all directions : 
 my God I let tlie night of separation be always brief! 
 
 * This refers to flies rubbing their heads with both fore legs, wliich the 
 author calls wringing their bands sorrowfully and in s|)ite. 
 
AHMAD SHAH, ABDALl. 297 
 
 Since it thus, so rutlilcssly, its arrows dischargeth, 
 The abode of tlie lover only an empty cavern remaineth. 
 
 For his poor heart there will be no relief save weeping ; 
 He, like a widow sigheth, with raiment wet with tears. 
 
 His grief for the beloved rendeth the garment of reserve : 
 The torrent of his tears furroweth the channels of his eyes. 
 
 Wherefore should not the afflicted heart weep flesh and blood, 
 When the tears of bereavement form a lake therein 1 
 
 Since separation giveth not to the lover so much respite, 
 The blood of his heart gusheth forth in streams from his eyes. 
 
 He will have no hope of finding relief in any direction : 
 His very frame becometh a load of anguish to bear. 
 
 If woe shall afflict, and press upon thee, Ahmad Shah ! 
 In all sincerity and love, flee thou thy God unto 1 
 
 V. 
 
 AVould that the crows were not assembled in the nightingale's 
 
 bower ! 
 That loving friends were ever assembled in the parterre of flowers ! 
 
 When the rose, without the presence of the beloved, may be looked 
 
 upon, 
 The eyesight will merely encounter a bed of thorns and brambles. 
 
 The garden bloometh in beauty from the face of the beloved ; 
 Then, without her, let not the heart unto the parterre incline ! 
 
 Those clouds which may not contain the water of beneficence, 
 Forbid that such clouds should the face of the sky overcast ! 
 
298 AHMAD SHAII, ABDALI. 
 
 WTicn the snaky curls fall all dishevelled round her face, 
 Save mine o\ni head, I see none other suitable penance to pay. 
 
 Since the dark mole uj)on her cheek is destroyed thereby, 
 Forbid that the rain of tears slK)uld ever her face suftuse ! 
 
 The countenance of the beloved one is like unto the rose : 
 Let not autumn affect it : be it ever fresh in the parterre ! 
 
 The blast of autumn, that scattereth the leaves of the rose — 
 Would to heaven that blast into the flames could be cast ! 
 
 The anguish of sepamtion consimieth Ahmad Sn au's heart : 
 then once more unite him, the company of his friends unto ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 heart-ravisher ! there will be none other in the world like unto 
 
 thee : 
 Draw aside thy veil, or thy lover will of sorrow and grief expire ! 
 
 With breast consumed by passion, I ever follow in search of thee ; 
 But tliy abode is neither on earth, nor in the heavens to be found. 
 
 1 will wander throughout the world, as a Sauton or a Darwosli ; 
 Or I will saturate my garments with the flood of my teai-s. 
 
 () fragrant ze{)lnT of the mom ! news of her bring thou to me ! 
 Make thou my heart to smile the parterre of flowers within ! 
 
 When thus I weep and bewail, my object, in so doing, is this, 
 That my heart may a nightingale be in the rose-bower of thy 
 face. 
 
 Tlic heart, at the depredations of thy beauty, lameuteth, 
 
 Like as the nightingale's heart bewaileth when autumn arriveth. 
 
AHMAD SHAH, ABDALI. 299 
 
 111 thia world, the heart will not IVoin spoliation be exempt ; 
 Thoii consuniest hearts — a wondrous fire in thy nose-jewel is. 
 
 The World's censures and reproaches he taketh not to heart : 
 The lover standeth in the plain, and raiseth his voice on high. 
 
 With all her tyranny and injustice, I would not abandon love, 
 Were I, Ahmad Shaii, with the powers of endurance prepared. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Alas ! alas ! for sweet life, that passeth thus away ! 
 That, like unto a stream, floweth past, and is gone ! 
 
 AVlierefore, then, is the heart not aware of its departure, 
 "Wlien life, alas ! passeth thus so swiftly away ] 
 
 Why, my heart ! hast thou thus from grief become 1 
 When existence, like the breeze, bloweth for ever away ! 
 
 Tho' thou may'st erect m.ansious, in all symmetry and grace. 
 Filled wdth regret, alas ! thou must leave them all behind !* 
 
 Sorrow ! sorrow ! and for ever sorrow, my heart ! 
 That loving friends from each other are severed so soon ! 
 
 Those dear ones are like unto spring's fragile flowers, 
 That in autumn's heats, alas ! wither and fade away ! 
 
 * See Horace, Ode 13tb, Book II. : — 
 
 " Linquenda tellus, et domus, et placens 
 Uxor; neque, harum, quas colis, arborum 
 Te, prceter invisaa cupressos, 
 Ulla brevem dominum sequatur." 
 
300 AHMAD SHAH, ABDALT. 
 
 Tliia separation is as hell, and absence its heated stones,* 
 'riiiit full, alas ! the poor devoted lover's head upon. 
 
 It behoveth iis here the world to renounce, for 't is inconstant : 
 Alus ! it posscsscth neither good nor advantage to carry away. 
 
 Had meeting ne'er taken place, separation we had not known : 
 Alas ! 't is from meeting that the veiy heart's blood floweth. 
 
 If friendship be thy aim, with bereavement make friends ; 
 For, alas ! it cometh upon thee from thine own hands' deeds. 
 
 Friendship is like the rose ; but its produce is the thorn : 
 The thorn becometh sharp, and, alas ! to the quick it pierceth. 
 
 Wliy gi'ievest thou, Ahmad Shah ! for 't is a period of joy ] 
 The dnun of meeting soundeth : alas ! union's hour is near. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 O would that there were not, in the world, the pangs of absence ! 
 That the heart in this ocean of separation were not o'erwhelm'd ! 
 
 Let not the heart of the beloved be of love and constancy divested, 
 Though the pains of bereavement may have the lover despoiled ! 
 
 Wherefore may not the heart of the lover be lacerated, 
 
 When cveiy moment it is stricken by separation's shai-p sword 1 
 
 Afflictions, like unto black snakes, twist and twine thereon, 
 When the flood of bereavement goeth straight inito his heiii-t. 
 
 Whole bands from this world depart, one following the other ; 
 For the ocean of separation hath laid the whole univei"se waste. 
 
 From this heat the very mountains will, like water, melt, 
 Should the fiery glow of bereavement unto them attain. 
 
 * Hell is said to be pavod with .-^tones, whiili thus make the inferual 
 fire the more excet^sive bv the transmission of iieat. 
 
AHMAD SHAH, ABDAlJ. 301 
 
 The cjpress-like in stature have been laid low, Ahmad Shaii ! 
 But let not thy l)ody ever bend under absence's load. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Why weepest thou thus to-day again, my heart 1 
 Thou sighcst and com plainest ever, my heart ! 
 
 Like as the hart that loseth her fown is distracted, 
 
 So thou showest thy alarm and inquietude, my heart ! 
 
 See also ! thou acquirest not patience by exhortation : 
 Wailing and lamenting, thou rendest thy garment, my heart ! 
 
 Like as the Hindu widow advanceth impatiently to the pyre. 
 So thou turnest thy back to sweet existence, my heart ! 
 
 I do not comprehend all these complainings of thine : 
 What makest thee so soft and so sensitive, my heart ? 
 
 From the pangs of grief thou shalt then be again released, 
 When thou sacrificest thine own affections, my heart ! 
 
 Thou shalt take thy recreation in the court of the beloved, 
 If thou wilt resign thine own will and pleasure, my heart ! 
 
 The heart-ravishers are pert and capricious, and deceiving withal ; 
 Then how long wilt thou sigh and weep for them, my heart ? 
 
 In the world the roses of spring are manifold in number, 
 
 If, like the nightingale, thou lamentest for them, my heart ! 
 
 The mui'ky night will become vmto thee the sunny day, 
 When, like the moth, thou sacrificest thyself, my heart ! 
 
 The rose-bud of desire thou shalt make to bloom thereby. 
 
 If thou make truth the rain-clouds of thy spring, my heart ! 
 
302 AHMAD SHAH, abdalT. 
 
 The long night of autumn shall never be tardy in passing, 
 If thou on this path takest sincerity with thee, my heart ! 
 
 Thou shalt ever be glacUlened with the sight of thy beloveil. 
 When tlio dark mind thou the bright dawn makest, my heart ! 
 
 Ahmad Shah, world ! remembereth no other prayer — 
 In beholding the dear one's foce, employ me, O my heart ! 
 
 X. 
 
 What an hour of bliss it was, when we, in retirement, each other's 
 
 society enjoyed ! 
 The beauty of thy face was a bed of roses, and my lieart a iiightin 
 
 gale disporting therein. 
 
 With the wine of union it was intoxicated : of tlie niaqiltit it was 
 
 free from dread : 
 Compared with the excessive torments of separation, to it was bliss, 
 
 the meeting of to-day. 
 
 That was an hour of joy and felicity, wlien the Humrr"' of luiiou 
 
 o'ei-shadow'd its head : 
 Why then should not tlie heart its yearnings show, when with 
 
 sorrow it was constantly filled ? 
 
 On whom the beloved her glance directed, the entire world was 
 
 delightful unto him : 
 Union with the dear one is God's gift : not that it was brought 
 
 about by other means. 
 
 Indeed, with but one look towards the charmer, even Par.idise 
 
 itself was forgotten by me : 
 My beloved was one without simile or rescniblance, and her beauty 
 
 the rose's excelled. 
 
 * See note at ]iaso HT. 
 
AHJIAD SHAH, ABDALT. 303 
 
 Thero are many cypresses within the grove ; but in stature my 
 
 friend all, all of them siu-passed : 
 I enjoyed the contemplation of my dear one ; for slie than nectar 
 
 was sweeter, by far, to me. 
 
 "\Mien I would her loveliness behold, how could sun or moon with 
 
 it compare 1 
 For how long shall Ahmad Shah extol her, when all tlie world 
 
 was occupied with her praise 1 
 
 XI. 
 
 I cry unto Thee, God ! for I am of my sins and wickedness 
 
 asliamed ; 
 But hopeless of Thy mercy, no one hath ever, from Thy threshold 
 
 departed. 
 
 Thy goodness and clemency are boundless ; and I am of my evil 
 
 acts ashamed : 
 'T is hopeless that any good deeds of mine will avail ; but Thy name 
 
 I'll my refuge make. 
 
 Wlien I my iniquities review, I say, tliat I were but a mere 
 
 blade of grass ! 
 The lusts of the flesh and the Devil are so implanted within me, 
 
 that, God ! I can nothing do. 
 
 Tho' 1 strive to the utmost, there's no escape for me out of the 
 
 Devil's evil well : 
 If it be possible the heart from evil to guard, how shall the eyes 
 
 be protected 1 
 
 Ahmad ! seek thou help from the Almighty, but not from pom]) 
 and grandeur's aid ! 
 
304 AHMAD SHAH, ABDALl. 
 
 XII. 
 
 If I shall say anything of the beloved, what then shall I say ? 
 Such is in my destiny, then of my fate, what shall I say ? 
 
 Though the charmers are somewhat softened in heart, 
 Of fortune's crooked, wayward course, what shall I say ? 
 
 I do not complain of the sable locks of the beloved ; 
 But her eyes are blood-sheddcrs : of the slaughtered, what shall I 
 say? 
 
 I greatly longed to behold that sweet countenance of hers ; 
 But it killcth the heart : of such a face, what shall I say i 
 
 They, who show no tenderness, are rivals unto themselves : 
 
 Thy beloved should be thy beloved : of a rival, what shall I say ? 
 
 The morning's breeze, that causeth the rose to smile. 
 Is the zephyr itself; then of the mom, what shall I sjiy ? 
 
 The thoni whicli may be with the rose, is also the rose : 
 Since it belongeth to the rose, of the thorn, what shall I say ? 
 
 The harsh words of the dear ones, tho' a load, are still acceptable : 
 Since lovers are under a load of obligations, of the load, what 
 shall I say ? 
 
 If the rose be the heart's bower, it is the lamp of the nightingale's 
 
 heart : 
 Since it is the lamp of his heart, of the lamp, what shall I s;ty ? 
 
 The despoiled crioth out, and distracteth othci-s' hearts too : 
 He remembereth the departed loved ojie : of tho despoiled, what 
 shall I say ? 
 
 O Ahmad Sn.vu ! tho' it be a stake, it is a bed of tlowers also : 
 Since tiie stake of the beloved is a bower, of the stake, what shall 
 I say I 
 
KAZIM KHAN, KHACTAK, 
 
 SURNAMED 
 
 SHAIDA. 
 
 Kazim Khan was the son of Muhammad Afzal Khan, chief of 
 the Khattaks — and anthor of several extensive and valuable prose 
 works in the Pus^hto language — who was son of the poet Ashraf 
 Khan ; and hence Kazim was the great-grandson of Khushhal Khan, 
 already noticed. He was born some time diu'ing the five years 
 subsequent to h. 113-5 (a.d. 1723). On the death of his father, the 
 chieftainship fell to Asad-ullah Khan, Kazim's elder brother, 
 who, after a fashion too common in Eastern countries, considered it 
 the safest and most prudent course to act with great severity 
 towards his brothers and other near male relatives. Kazim, who 
 was quite a youth at the time, could not brook this tjnfannical 
 treatment, and therefore separated from him, and even abandoned 
 the jagir, or grant of land, then in his possession. Asad-ullah, who 
 appears to have been rather more fxvourably inclined to Kazim 
 Khan than to his other brothers, on becoming acquainted with the 
 fact of his distrust, sent for Kazim, and used every endeavom* to 
 soothe his fears and set his mind at ease ; and, the more effectually 
 to bring this about, he conferred vipon him an additional grant of 
 land, and betrothed him to a daughter of one of their uncles. How- 
 ever, the suspicions and fears of Kazim — who doubtless had heard 
 of the treatment the sons and grandsons of Khushhal had expe- 
 rienced at the hands of his own father — increased, at all this ex- 
 treme kindness, to a greater degree than before ; and he secretly 
 
 X 
 
306 KAZIM KHAN. KHATTAK. 
 
 fled from his home. Some say thut he luid an antipathy to his 
 young cousin as a wife ; and that, at the time, he requested his 
 brother not to betroth her to him, as he did not Hke her. This 
 Asad-ullah would not listen to ; and, accordhig to the Afghan 
 custom, named her as the future wife of his younger brother. Bi 
 this, however, as it may, Kazim took to a wandering life, and spent 
 several years in Kashmir, where he acquired considerable learning. 
 He subsequently lived a long time at Sirhind, in Upper Indiii, 
 but afterwards proceeded to the Afghan principality of Rjlmpur, 
 in that countr}-, where he took up his residence ; and there he 
 passed the greater part of his life. 
 
 On seveml occasions his brother Asad-ullah sent many of his 
 confidential friends to endeavour to induce him to retimi to his 
 native countr}' ; but without effect. On one occasion the poet had 
 gone as fiir as Hasan Abdal, a town some few miles east of Attak, 
 in the Panjab, on a pleasxire excursion, with some of his particular 
 acquaintances, at which time a number of his relatives came to see 
 him, from tlie Kh attak country, beyond the Indus^ and only two 
 days' journey distant ; but, notwithstanding all their entreaties, 
 he would not return home, and went back to Rampur again. 
 
 AMicn the gift of poesy was bestowed upon him, he took the 
 poetical surname of " Shaidfi," signifying "The Devoted" or 
 " Lovelorn ;" for he had now turned devotee, and had become the 
 disciple of the holy men of Sirhind ; and, according to the mystic 
 doctrines of the Sufis, considered himself devoted to the love of the 
 Divine. His poetry, like that of Mirza, is deeply tinged with the 
 mysticisms of that sect. 
 
 The fame of Shaidas poetiT soon began to be niMScd abroad ; 
 and at length, MTan MuhammadT, son of Mfan .Ealnl-idlah of 
 Sirhind, who belonged to the family of Shaidas spiritual guide,* 
 
 • See Introduction, page xiii. 
 
KAZIM KHAN, KHATTAK. 307 
 
 expressed a wish to bo furuished with a copy, on which the poet 
 sent him the, at present, only known copy — which now Hcs before 
 me — bearing the impression of his seal. These poems were alpha- 
 betically collected into this volume in the year H. 1181 (a.d. 1767), 
 and, indeed, it is supposed to be the only copy that was ever made ; 
 for until shown to them by me, the descendants of his elder and 
 other brothers, who dwell in the vicinity of Pes]hawar, had never 
 seen a copy of his poems, although so celebrated among them, 
 Tliis unique volume, which I procured at Lahore, is most beaiiti- 
 fully written and illuminated, and contains a number of odes 
 inserted on the margins of the pages. 
 
 Shaida's poetiy is highly polished, but deep and difficult ; and 
 approaches nearer to that of the Persians than of any other of the 
 Afghan poets, whose simplicity is the chief chai-m of their writings. 
 The poet also introduces a greater number of Persian and Ai-abic 
 words. 
 
 Shaida's first disappointment appears to have given him a dis- 
 taste for matrimony ; and he died miman'ied, at Rampur, where he 
 had dwelt so long. Soon after his decease, his relatives came and 
 removed his remains, and conveyed them to the poet's native 
 country ; and they found a resting-place at Sara'e, where the 
 Khattak chieftains, and their families, have, for centuries past, been 
 interred. 
 
 X 2 
 
THE POEMS 
 
 KAZIM KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 What pleasure shall the dead in heart take in beauty's display ? 
 With Layla s blandishments, what shall Majnun's image do ? 
 
 Wlien, like unto the gazelle, they will not be fomiliar with anyone, 
 ^V'hat shall the effect of constancy with those bright eyes do 1 
 
 The appliances of joy and pleasure were useless, unto the forsaken : 
 With the arrival of the morning's breeze, what shall the tm-bau's 
 chaplet do ?* 
 
 Since, like xuito the dawn of morning, his garment may be reut,t 
 How can one, as this so infamous, his condition conceal ? 
 
 They never derive any share whatever of hands and feet, 
 
 ^V^lat then shall the world of fishes with the hinna's bright dye do?:{: 
 
 Folly and vanity have made thee lighter even than the bubble : 
 Wliat sliall the foaming of the ocean tow<u"ds thy weight and 
 power do ] 
 
 * A clia}ilpt in the tui-ban, when withered, cannot be revived. 
 
 f The break of day is termed the rending of the dark garment of night. 
 
 J See second note at page 195. 
 
KAZIM KHAN, KHATTAK. 309 
 
 Noui'ish not the hope, Alexander ! that it will to tlice be constant : 
 Behold, "what the vicissitudes of fortune shall unto Darius do ! 
 
 By the violence of its ravages, the whole hath been to ruin brought, 
 Otherwise, in the desert, what doth the litter of its camel do ] 
 
 Did he, like unto a falcon, soar in air, then it might avail • 
 But what shall the restraint of that net, now, vmto Shaida do ? 
 
 11. 
 
 Obtain for thy requirements the dun steed of the waves ! 
 
 In the arena of the flood, practice the horsemanship of the waves ! 
 
 The meek and humble, like the oyster, have the pearl acquired ; 
 But naught of pearl's merchandise, beareth the caravan of the waves. 
 
 The lowly and humble are more jjowerful than the haughty and 
 
 proud : 
 In the bonds of ocean, for ever confined, will be the rolling of the 
 
 waves. 
 
 The obstinate and refractory are by the meek and humble subdued : 
 The ground-kisser unto the sea-shore is the tempest of the waves. 
 
 See, at what time they will swallow the dark earth altogether, 
 On the water's rolling throne seated, the kings of the waves. 
 
 Trouble not the inexperienced and incompetent with thy affairs : 
 For upon the target of the waters, become bent the arrows of the 
 waves. 
 
 Woe and affliction are salutary to the mind of the heart-broken ; 
 For firmly fixed, the flood upon, is the foundation of the waves. 
 
310 KAZIM KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 They are the ups and downs of the world : Shaida, behold them ! 
 Rising and falling, without ceasing, is the world of the waves ! 
 
 111. 
 
 Thou hast cast loose the dark tresses about that fair face of thine : 
 Thou hast, time after time, desolated the world's dwelling-places ! 
 
 Thou hast not left one unscathed, the whole land within ; 
 
 With the sword of amorous glances armed, whom now smitest thou 1 
 
 Since from the sun of thy beauty, the veil hath been drawni aside, 
 The mart of love, the world within, thou wilt with bustle fill ag-ain. 
 
 Thou hast subdued the whole land with thy beauty and goodness : 
 Thy slaves thou wilt make all the fair ones of Hind.* 
 
 My phrenzy, physician ! will not in the least decrease : 
 Thine own rose thou wilt make even spring itself for me. 
 
 Since upon the target of the heart they so like straight ones strike, 
 How many wilt thou cause to groan from thine eyelashes' crooked 
 darts ? 
 
 Worthless himself, thou wilt draw demented Shaida to thy side 
 
 again, 
 Shouldst thou even fill thy skirt with stones equal to a mountain 
 
 in biilk. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Art thou come again in search of roses, thou seller of flowers ! 
 That not a bird of the parterre ceaseth limientation to make ? 
 
 * Hindustiln. 
 
KAZIM KHAN. KHATTAK. 311 
 
 A bubble of the broad ocean is every one of its bells :* 
 The kar-wanf moveth along silently, this desert within. 
 
 In its desire to attain it, with its own blood it became tinged ; 
 Yet still doth not the rnby reach unto the lobe of the ear? 
 
 Sometimes rising, sometimes falling, like the Pleiades they go : 
 How many inebriated ones have from thy banquet gone forth 1 
 
 For thy sake, I would dye my garment of the colour of the rose ; 
 Still, like unto perfume, it would from my bosom escape. 
 
 Draw near, and behold the black intoxication of her tresses. 
 That without the shoulder,^ cannot proceed a step on the road. 
 
 The heart of the vortex like unto a millstone might split ; 
 Since fortune, towards Shaida, hath so unrelenting become ! 
 
 Everywhere the lords of love have become disgraced and dis- 
 honoured ; 
 And neither tone nor harmony, absolutely, hath the rebeck of love. 
 
 Like as the dew, the mountain of Kaf it will displace also, 
 If the sun of love should rise over the head thereof. 
 
 What shall I say unto thee regarding this wave of calamity, 
 \Vlien equal to the firmament itself is the bubble of love ? 
 
 * The necks of camels and other animals in a caravan of triivellers are 
 ornamented with bells. 
 
 f A caravan. 
 
 I The simile here refers to the long tresses resting upon the shoulder 
 for support. 
 
312 KAZl.M KHAX, KHATTAK. 
 
 That heart, which may for itself love's ermine acqim-e, 
 The vicissitudes of it are changed into peace and repose. 
 
 The thoughts of her, Shaida ! will never leave my heait ; 
 For such a countenance I have beheld in the dream of love ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 Again thou bringest thy dishevelled tresses thy face about : 
 Or the hyacinth, in the spring, disordcreth its curled petals. 
 
 It must have been the insolence of the comb, and the wind's 
 
 pertness ; 
 F(n- tlie locks of the dear one are not without cause deranged. 
 
 Look at them ! what a wondrous moon-Hke circle are they ! 
 
 The curls wreathed round tlie focc of that gay, but imperious one. 
 
 To-day, from the arena, a new som-cc of evil hath come ; 
 Since thou hast brought the cui'ls of dust upon thy face. 
 
 Like unto the comb, acquire a conception discerning ; 
 For the ringlets of my rhymes a hair-like fineness have. 
 
 Although, from their exceeding length, they reach the ground, 
 Still, through coquetry, tliey place not their feet straight the path 
 upon. 
 
 In what way shall Sfiaiha become released from their noose, 
 ^\^len the curls, with a single hair, the lions of the forest bind ? 
 
 VII. 
 
 In such manner, am 1 h;i[ipy ficni the world apart, 
 
 Tliat, hke the forest's beasts, I :im liappy the desert within. 
 
KAZIM KHAN. KHATTAK. 313 
 
 Rather than that I should bchokl the land of the sea-shore, 
 Like the billow, I am happy, wauderiug the waters upon. 
 
 \Mieu from the morsels thereon the hungry flies are driven. 
 With an invitation to that table, how can I happy be 1 
 
 Since, like unto the sun's, its countenance is not warm, 
 
 I swear by thy head if, with the Huma's shadow,* I am happy ! 
 
 AMieu, like unto the partridge, it confined me in a cage,t 
 Than such laughter, with lamentation, I am more happy by far. 
 
 Though, like imto a pictm'e, it awakened not from its sleep, 
 In this state, ShaidI ! with mine own lot, I am happy. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Since, like the reed-pen, I have my head resigned, 
 I am now in search of these fail' and charming ones. 
 
 This fire is from the glances of those bright eyes of thine, 
 "Whereby I am burnt as black as those their dark lashes. 
 
 From the time when my heart became the home of these brunettes, 
 Behold me ! I am, as it were, a new Hindustan grown ! 
 
 I vow by the hundi-ed-times-rent vitals of the comb, 
 
 That I am more disordered even than the cm-Is, in grief for thee ! 
 
 From terror of the autumn, I am unable to look upon the rose : 
 I am shaking in this flower-garden, like the willow unto. 
 
 * See note at page 137. 
 
 t The bartavelle, a large bird of the partridge species, is kept on account 
 of its sound, compared to laughter ; as also is the common bird. 
 
314 KAZIM KHAN. KHATTAK. 
 
 Though my flight is in the air ; yet I was not released : 
 I am still of that graceful cypress the neck-enchained slave. 
 
 Like unto dust she carried me away, and showed no concern : 
 Of such a fiery steed as this, the attached skirt-holder am I. 
 
 With Indian requital, such acts she practiscth on me — 
 
 Me, Shaida ! who in heail am a poor simple Mghan of Roh.* 
 
 IX. 
 
 Since from their complainings, its bells have not ceased, 
 The caravan must still be wandering this desert within. 
 
 What can beauty's splendour, with defective sight eft'ect 1 
 The muTor itself is amazed and astonished at the world. 
 
 From their eyes' wildness their intimacy cannot l)e gained : 
 
 The herd of gazelles, at the sight of the shepherd, taketh to flight. 
 
 What ! hath Farhadf caused the covey of partridges to weep, 
 That from the moimtains they comej with eyes all inflamed 1 
 
 I perceive the manner of her g^it, like inito the zephyr : 
 She is again stepping gracefully, and is on slauglitcr bent. 
 
 From the time I became occupied in regarding the spring, 
 Naught was gained by me thereby, save sorrow and regret. 
 
 * See note at page "263. 
 
 f The name of a famous Persian statuary, the lover of ghlrin, wife of 
 Khusrau Parwez, king of Persia, and daughter of the Greek Emperor 
 Maurice, wlio, to please his mistress, dug through an immense mountain. 
 This is the subject of a poem by ^'izami, one of the most famous ami the 
 sweetest of Persian poets. See also note at page 87. 
 
 I The eyes oftlie Chikor, a species of partridge here referred to, are of 
 a deep red colour, as also are it«i legs. See note on preceeding page. 
 
KAZIM KHAN, KHATTAK. 315 
 
 Many were the wailings from its rose-trees' every branch ; 
 
 In sorrow and moiirning for it, many were the garments rent.* 
 
 Like unto the waves, it riseth and falleth continually : 
 
 How then, from the world, canst thou aught of constancy hope 1 
 
 Like unto the bubble, he wandereth in every direction, all forlorn ; 
 Since Shaida from his home and friends a wanderer became if 
 
 Unto the trysting-place my charmer very slowly cometh ; 
 And the verdant spring to the partexTC very slowly cometh. 
 
 Now and then I perceive kindness beaming from her eyes : 
 Thou wouldst say that the languid;}: ever very slowly cometh. 
 
 The dread of ill is a far greater slaughterer than ill itself : 
 The sanguinary one, to shed my blood very slowly cometh. 
 
 The partridge, for this reason, hath from laughing become purple, 
 That to make him her game, the graceful one very slowly cometh. 
 
 What ! can separation, of his vigour, poor Farhad have deprived. 
 That the cries and wails from his mountain very slowly come ? § 
 
 Under the weight of her majesty, the strength of Gulgun|| was lost ; 
 Hence that Scythian** of graceful mien very slowly cometh. 
 
 * The rent garments refer to the leaves the roses have shed, 
 t See memoir of the poet, at page 307. 
 
 I The glances of the sleepy, languid eyes of a mistress, 
 g See note at page 129. 
 
 II The name of the steed of Shirin, the beloved of Farhad. 
 ** See note (§) at page 129. 
 
316 KAZIM KHAN. KHATTAK. 
 
 Give not utterance, Shaida, without reflection, to a word ; 
 For every parrot, to speaking well, veiy slowly cometh. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Although every drop of dew should be the seed of a rose, 
 
 The nightingales' hearts would not be satiated with beholding it. 
 
 ANIicn like unto that of the rose it hath not a face so lovely, 
 What shall one then do with the hyacinth's black locks 1 
 
 About my dark destiny what shall 1 uutu any one say ? 
 For my forehead, like the sim's, is fit only to be branded.* 
 
 Is it the poor wayfarer hindered by night coming on, 
 Or my heart enthralled tlie noose of her tresses within ?t 
 
 She hath made calamity's sword as sharp as fate itself: 
 "With hands imbrued she goeth about, both night and day. 
 
 From the sea's cold-hcartcdness, the bubble bui-steth and brcaketh ; 
 Hence it behoveth thee, Sh.uda ! to abiuidon all hope from thy 
 kin. 
 
 XII. 
 
 The habitations of this world behold, and begone ! 
 A nest like that of the Phoenix behold, and begone ! J 
 
 * The spots in the sun's disc are compared to brands ; and it used to be 
 the custom with the Afghan tribea to brand the foreliead of a diild bom 
 in an unfortunate or unlucky hour, to drive misfortune away. 
 
 t The heart is the wayfarer here, and niijht the dark hair of the 
 beloved. 
 
 } Its nest is not to be found, neither a permanent home in this world. 
 
KAZIM KHAN, KHATTAK. 317 
 
 The old in years, like little infonts sport and play : 
 This very wonderfiU spectacle behold, and hegoue ! 
 
 Should the sun, Huma ! upon my brow ever rest, 
 
 Do thou, in that case, my independence behold, and begone ! 
 
 With the torch of thine own mind, in this dai'kness. 
 Lightning-like, the road to follow behold, and begone !* 
 
 The fish have no share in the benefit of hands or feet ; 
 But their swimming in the waters behold, and begone ! 
 
 The wine-flask's one short hour in the convivial party, 
 With this full mouth laughing,t behold, and begone ! 
 
 Every day it deceiveth Shaida with its friendship : 
 
 The friendship and constancy of fortune behold, and begone ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Without a meeting I shall not recover : come and sit by me ! 
 Make thyself acquainted with my state : come and sit by me ! 
 
 Even the wild by natm'e have, at last, become tamed : 
 thou gazelle, by natiu-e wild ! come and sit by me ! 
 
 At the desire of the nightingale, thou, faithless rose ! 
 
 After a year comest splendid again ; then come and sit by me ! 
 
 Like one dying, from other woimds, I ease obtain : 
 No napkin do I ask of thee ; then come and sit by me ! 
 
 * The lightning is supposed to obtain a glimpse of its own road from 
 the light of its own flash. 
 I The gurgling of a fuU wine-flask is said to be its laughter. 
 
318 KAZIM KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 With those arched eyebrows, and eyes at all times dark — 
 Thou evening and new moon of thy lover, come and sit l)y mc ! 
 
 That we may together recall the days when we knew not soitow, 
 For one short honr, dear friend ! come and sit b}- mc ! 
 
 The charms and l)cauty of thy beloved, in sweetest strains rehearse, 
 O Shaida ! thoti of imagination tine, come and sit by me ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 No sooner did spriiig acquainted become, with garden and with 
 
 mead. 
 Than with eyes inflamed from weeping, it was separated again from 
 
 them. 
 
 When the gate of tlic caravansary of the bud sball liecomc unclosed. 
 The caravan of dyes and perfumes departeth, and morning's breeze 
 setteth in. 
 
 The smoke of a weirld consumed, by the name of sky thou termest : 
 Of thy erroneous idea what shall I say? it is mere illusion and 
 
 (.■iTor. 
 
 That which even yet rcmaineth a source of amazement to the 
 
 world — 
 Even Majnun's name, hath come to behold the spectacle I am. 
 
 From thy well-directed aim, the arrow was ]iointed so truly, 
 Tliat thou wert, neither of its fliglit, nor of its wounding aware. 
 
 It is beyond all ])0ssibility, foolish one ! to people it again ; 
 For the j^rosperous city of Suaida's heart that was, hath utterly 
 (lesohite become ! 
 
 i^iJtjl 
 
KAZIM KHAN, KHATTAK. 319 
 
 XV. 
 
 Thou hast again unclosed those lips of thine to speak, 
 Or the parrot hath, for its dole of sugar, come again. 
 
 Unto the lot of the dark-hearted ftilleth not ecstasy's gem :* 
 Where is the lump of steel 1 the burnished mirror where 1 
 
 Like as the pearl-oyster, open it at once to bestow. 
 
 When the indigent, at thy door, may his hand stretch forth. 
 
 The rose of thy cheek is, for thy ti'esses, all sufhcient : 
 Neither for attar, nor for ambergris, hath it any need. 
 
 They, of open coimtenance, manifest no awe of the great ; 
 For the mirror looketh even Alexander straight in the fiice. 
 
 All praise be unto the nakedness of that bare head, 
 Which hath neither under turban nor diadem bent ! 
 
 From warmth, like unto quicksilver, she fleeth from me : 
 How, then, shall come to Shaida's arms that impassioned one ? 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Since I have turned my back home and family unto, 
 For other chattels or effects, what necessity have 1 1 
 
 That for ever smooth, and without wrinkle, thy forehead may be. 
 All these ti-oubles make thou over unto the sovereign of Chln.f 
 
 * A state of ecstasy to which the Sufis are supposed to attain when the 
 world and all things worldly vanish. 8ee Introductory Remarks, page xiii. 
 
 f The eastern name of China. Cliin in Persian also signifies a wrinkle, 
 hence the play upon words. 
 
320 KAZIM KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 The blood of my owu heart I am well pleased to drink ; 
 For the fly never approacheth near unto this tray of mine. 
 
 It wonld not, with its consent, in the garden stay a moment : 
 'T is well the thorn seized the rose's garment by the hem. 
 
 Do hearts then trip along in the direction of thy curls ; 
 Or doth the caravan of Rum* unto India wend its way ? 
 
 How shall those eyes of thine a glance on ^he humble bestow, 
 When thine eyelashes, thro' arrogance, to the heavens are upturned ? 
 
 In those worldly dwellings of thine, may all happiness be ; 
 But wandering Shaida is going to the deserts and wilds ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Thou art welcome again thou fresh festival of spring ! t 
 
 Thou hast brought joy unto every wild, and every bed of flowei^s ! 
 
 Like imto the bird within a cage, the lovelorn nightingale, 
 Even whilst yet within the egg, longeth on the wing to be. 
 
 The folks' garments have been dyed of such a saffron-like hue, 
 That every bird to the parterre, filled with laughter, hath come.]: 
 
 Look at the rosy-bodied one in this gannent airaj^ed. 
 
 Like unto the sun when he approacheth the time of his setting. 
 
 * The people of Rum, or Asia Minor, are ruddy in complexion, and the 
 heart is also red. The people of India are dark, so are the curls of the 
 beloved. These are the metaphors used by the poet here. 
 
 f A festival observed by the ancient Per.-ians and by tlie Hindus, which 
 season, among the latter people, is personified under the name of Basanta, 
 who is said to attend on Kama, the god of love. It is usual in the 
 Panjab and vicinity, on this day, for the Hindus to dress in eaffron- 
 colourcd garments, called also hasatitl, Krishna's favourite colour. 
 
 { Saffron, it is said, will cause a person to laugh to death. 
 
KAZIM KHAN, KHATTAlv, 321 
 
 In the turban of every pilgrim a bouquet it will place, 
 When morning's dawn scattereth flowers into its own skirt. 
 
 The nightingale's heart towards the gaudy rose is inclined, 
 Or the flask hath approached the goblet, to pour out its wine.""' 
 
 The rain of perspiration shall foil through shame therefrom, 
 When the lightning shall behold the gorgeous crop of flowers. 
 
 In the same manner as the rose, the beholders of this spring 
 Have not the least necessity for attar their garments upon. 
 
 The musician increaseth twofold wine's intoxicating strength, 
 When the bacchanals sit down the banqiiet to begin. 
 
 Why, Shaida ! termest thou it, the oyster of the deep profound ? 
 When the pearl unto thy sweet strains its ear hath given. 
 
 XVIIT. 
 
 What peace, in this world, doth the heai't acquire, 
 
 Which ever quaketh and trembleth from dread of fortiuie's ills ? 
 
 Thro' separation from the departed water, thoughtless people ! 
 Like the vortex, you have made strong your hearts, your breasts 
 within . 
 
 Let not thy heart ever be unto this world's parterre given ; 
 Since even the rose-bud, at last, left it heart-disordered behind. 
 
 Approach ! behold the weeping of agony in tears of blood : 
 Like the wine-flask, my heart to shed blood I have brought. 
 
 * The nightingale sings on account of the rose which is red • and the 
 metaphor here is, that, by itn gurgle, tlie wine-flnsk is as though singing" to 
 pour forth the red wine. 
 
 V 
 
322 KAZIM KHAN, KHATTAK. 
 
 Tlie fissure therein, by the waters, was not filled up again ; 
 And the whirlpool, like an anvil, hardened its heart iinto pain. 
 
 Tliou shalt, Shaida ! for flight, wings and feathers acquire. 
 If thou in the nest, like the egg, thine heart pure and spotless 
 make. 
 
 XTX. 
 
 I possess none of the chattels of tranquillity, tlie encampment 
 
 witliin ; 
 Since 1 have a tent, like the bubble, u])on the foce of the deep. 
 
 If thou art not the ownacr of a single straw, grieve not thereat ; 
 For then, the village-consiiming fire will in thy Haram* expire. 
 
 "When thy face became bedewed with perspiration, by thy head I 
 
 vow, 
 Tliat therein the rose-scattering splendour of dew I beheld. 
 
 Wlien wert thou ever shrouded the veil of retirement within ? 
 Thou art manifest in all the world, like a Phoenix unto. 
 
 Her eyes show not even as much regard towards me, 
 
 As the wild gazeUe that looketh roimd ere it taketh to flight. 
 
 'T is needless to apply any salve to my all-sufficient woimd : 
 H(jw can the recovery of the slaughtered be lirought about ? 
 
 Morning and evening — day and night — with sable dress, and gar- 
 ment rent, 
 
 Like unto time itself,t in sorrow and nioimiiug my existence is 
 spent. 
 
 * The mo.st sacrod part of a palace or dwelling, the seraglio, or woman's 
 apartments. 
 
 f 'J'imo assumes tlie black dress of darkness in the evening, and its 
 garment is rent at tlie dawn of day. 
 
 .& 
 
KAZIM KHAN, KHATTAK. 323 
 
 The beautiful lineaments of her foce are most amazing : 
 In this wi'iting there is no work soever for any one's pen. 
 
 His life perpetually from danger, how shall Shaida guar^ ; 
 IMien the snak}- curls are in total darkness shrouded ever ? 
 
 XX. 
 
 When thy beauty, like the sun's, bursteth forth, 
 My garment, like the morning's, becometh rent. 
 
 In the society of thee, ni}^ bright-cheeked one ! 
 My whole body, like the candle's, melteth away. 
 
 That person shall never die, Avhose head shall be 
 Struck off, like the candle's, by the sword of love. 
 
 Thy curly locks have drawn my heart towards thee : 
 The fish, by the hook, are always from the water drawn. 
 
 Call him not, hard-hearted one ! a statue of the hall, 
 Wlio in dust and blood writheth in death's agony. 
 
 "\A1ien, throughout the night, the rain of tears falleth,* 
 From its effects at last appeareth the dawn of day.f 
 
 He hath no strength to complain, who is by thy cmds stricken ; 
 Like unto one by a snake stung, he is speechless rendered. 
 
 The desert will rend its garment's skirt to tatters. 
 Should the trembling one from thy bonds escape. 
 
 Graceful words shall they wi'ite, their tablets upon, 
 Wliose hearts, like the pen's, may crack and split. 
 
 * The night of sorrow. f The morn of relief or j oy. 
 
 T 2 
 
324 KAznr khan, khattak. 
 
 On this account, Shaida cannot look upon a comb ; 
 For tlic derangement of thj cui-ly locks is seen therein. 
 
 xxr. 
 
 In the rolling of thine eyes the universe may have sunk, 
 
 Or its inhabitants may be submerged in the eddies of a flood. 
 
 Since they showed no mortification at thy lips and teeth ; 
 
 AVhy should not the coral and pearl thus be in ocean cngulphed ? 
 
 I am a cotemporary of the water of those good blades, 
 AMiose eyelashes may ever be in bloody tears submerged.* 
 
 Good men hold it far preferable to the perspii-ation of shame, 
 That they may be swallowed in /Eununan's dark waves.f 
 
 "What would the simpleton and dolt from Manl;}: acquire, 
 Though his pencil may be dipped in the rainbows every hue ? 
 
 Upon the raft of the bier unto the shore will approach, 
 
 The kings who may have sunk in the throne's troubles and cares. 
 
 Shaida ! no effort to escape maketh the master-mariner, 
 'V\Tiose eyes may be submerged the ocean of tears within. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Since, like the sun, thou art the possessor of gold and silver, 
 Why art thou standing, every moniing, at the door of others? 
 
 * The curved shape of the scimitar is likened unto the eyelashes of the 
 fair. 
 
 t The gulf of Persia so culled. } See note at page 287. 
 
KAZIM KHAN. KHATTAK. 325 
 
 As with the candle, no one for my redemption endeavoureth ; 
 And thou, like the snuft'ers, art a seeker after my head. 
 
 As doth shadow on the sun's setting, follow the eyes' dark shade, 
 If thou, for a pretty one, with sunny face, a candidate art ! 
 
 By the slaughter of whom wilt thou, of roseate hue, thy garment 
 
 dye, 
 That, to-day again, thy waist, like the rose-bud's, is girded 1 
 
 Like vmto mince-meat, Avouud after wound I receive ; 
 
 Then, wherefore art thou of my state and my case unaware ? 
 
 Thou didst depart like the bubble on the back of the flood : 
 Than m3'self, my home ! a gi'eater wanderer art thou ! 
 
 Thou beautiful brunette ! thou of figm'e so graceful ! 
 The straight and verdant pine, of whose grove art thou 1 
 
 If in adversity thou bendest not thine head unto any one, 
 
 In the loftiness of thy spirit, like a dark beetling mountain art thou. 
 
 Shaida ! thou art that parrot with Indian disposition endowed, 
 That art with the confection of thine own words' roses content. 
 
KHWAJAH MUHAMMAD, BANGASH. 
 
 TuE niatcriiils for a notice of this poet are extremely meagre. 
 Little is kuottii about him, except that he lived in the reign of the 
 Mughal Emperor, Aiu-angzeb, and belonged to the Baiiga^ or 
 DangixsTi tribe of Afghans, who hold the valley of that name, and of 
 which Kohatt is the chief town. The Bangas^ tribe, in bygone 
 days, made a great figiu-e in India ; and from a peasant of it, the 
 Nawwfibs of FaiTukhabud. in that country, traced their descent.* 
 
 Khwajah Muhammad lived the life of a DiU'wesh, in poverty and 
 religious abstraction, and followed the tenets of the ChastI sect. 
 He was a disciple of .Eabd-iu'-RahTm, who was a disciple of 
 Mi'an Panju, a celebrated Sufi teacher, who came originally from 
 
 * Little (lid I imagine, whilst stationed in the Punjab a few years since, 
 when I was penning the notes for this short notice of a poet of the tribe, 
 that I should behold the last of the Xawwabs, escorted by a party of m}' 
 own regiment, conducted, on foot, with fetters on his legs, through the 
 streets of Xassick, in A\'estern India (where I then wiis suctioned in com- 
 mand of a detachment), on his way to undergo jierpetual banishment at 
 Makka, for the share he took in the massacre at Farrukhfibad, during the 
 late rebellion in India. lie had been sentenced to death ; but his punish- 
 ment was commuted to perpetual exile, in any place he might select. He 
 chose Makka in Arabia, where, I have since heard, he subsists on alms. I 
 spoke a few words to the wretched man at>'a.«sick ; the first he had heard 
 in kindness, he sjiid, for many long days. He appeared to be any thing 
 but what one might expect, from all that has been proved against hira. 
 He wa.s rather fair, slightly made, and about thirty years of age. To me, 
 he appeared very wretched and heart-broken. He was only an Afglian 
 in name : the centuries of admixture of Indian blood, by intermarriage 
 with the people of the country, had left little of the Af^an blood 
 remaining. 
 
KHWAJAII MUHAMMAD, 13ANGASH. 327 
 
 Hindustan, and dwelt for many years in A fgh anistan. He is said 
 to have ti'aced his descent from tlie Arab devotee, MutcIn-ud-Din, 
 the founder of the Chasti sect.* 
 
 Khwajah Muhammad appears to have been a man of some 
 learning ; and passed most of his time with his teacher or spiritual 
 giiide, already mentioned. It is not known whether he left any 
 descendants ; for although I despatched a person, specially, into 
 the Bangas^ country to make inquiry, I cannot now discover, 
 w^th any certainty, either his place of birth, residence, or the 
 branch of the tribe to which he belonged. He is known, however, 
 to have performed the pilgrimage to Makka and Madinah ; and 
 that, after his retm-n thence, he gave up writing poetry. His 
 Dlwan, or Collection of Odes, from which the following poems have 
 been selected, is a very rare book ; in fact, scarcely procurable ; for, 
 as far as I can discover, the copy to which I had access is the only 
 one known. 
 
 His writings are deeply tinged with the mysticisms of the Sufis ; 
 but occasionally he devotes a poem to the remembrance of lost 
 friends, and laments his bereavement from them. 
 
 The place and time of his decease are uncertain ; and the where- 
 abouts of the grave in which he was buried is not now known. 
 
 * See note at page 1. 
 
Tin: i^OEMS 
 
 KHWAJAH MUHAMMAD, BANGASH. 
 
 I. 
 
 EiTUER the hinua* hath been unto thy white hauds applied, 
 Ur thcv haAC hceu made red in the blood of thy lover. 
 
 1 am imablc, dear one ! to emlure tliy glance's fire ; 
 For I am weak, and infimi, and jjowcrlcss, altogether. 
 
 Those languid eyes of thine have many in niiseiy plunged : 
 
 It would be well, my beloved ! shouldst thou their tyranny restrain. 
 
 Tliy stricken ones, without \niion with thee, revive not again, 
 Though Abu-Sinat himself to prescribe for them should come. 
 
 Those sable locks of thine are like mito spring's lowering clouds ; 
 And from them shineth out tliy coinitcnancc, like the sun. 
 
 Thy fascinated ones are entangled in the noose of thy ringlets ; 
 But the wise bird upon the net can no confidence place. 
 
 The equal to thy beauty is not in the wide world to be foimtl ; 
 Wliilst my poor heart breaketh at the affluence thou enjoyest. 
 
 Tliou art celebrated throughout the world for thy benevolence too ; 
 Wherefore, then, givcst thou not ear imto Kowajah's complainings 1 
 
 • See second note at page 1 05. 
 
 t Tlie name of a celebrated Arabi;m physician, erroneously called 
 Avicenna in the A\'est. 
 
KH\VA.1AH MUHAMMAD, BANGASH. 1329 
 
 II. 
 
 Separation from thee, O my friend ! hath made me so disconsolate, 
 That nanght in me remaineth, bnt misery and woe ! 
 
 The ensanguined tears chase each other down my clieeks : 
 ISlj heart is rent to atoms, and my breast is all consumed. 
 
 The clear colour of my face deiicndeth upon thy existence ; 
 And now, without thee, it is colourless, and tinged wdth blood. 
 
 I was unacquainted with the world's profits and losses — benefits 
 
 and ills : 
 By the sight of thyself, without wine thou didst inebriate me. 
 
 Though I yearn and long for it, I cannot procm-e it in the world : 
 The rapturous sight of thee is become unattainable to me. 
 
 I become immersed therein : at times I sink ; at times I rise 
 
 again ; 
 But out of the vortex of the ocean of thy love I cannot emerge. 
 
 The whole country unto me hath dark become without thee ; 
 thou, the bright sun among all saints and holy men ! 
 
 Thou art a mighty river, in waves and billows rolling ; 
 But no one drinketh one mouthful from the mighty stream. 
 
 My mind will not become comforted by any other person, 
 
 Than by thee only; thou, of all poles now the pole* unto me ! 
 
 * Among- the three hundred and fifty-six persons who, among the Sufis, 
 are accounted holy men, nine only are deemed qualified to invest others 
 with authority as teachers : these nine consist of the pole of poles, three 
 poles, and five props, and these nine alone can be deemed perfect 
 teachers or spiritual guides. It is to his spiritual guide, the pole of whom 
 he was a disciple, that the poet addresses the lines above. 
 
330 KmvAJAn muhammad, bangash. 
 
 I was wont to buy, that iu life we always together should be ; 
 For I was utterly ignomut regarding the dread torrent of death. 
 
 The extent of thy goodness, my beloved ! was beyond computation ; 
 For thou didst not, from the veil, tliy countenance to any one show. 
 
 Thou wert the altar of the aspirations and exigencies of all ! 
 For at the thresliold of the Highest, acceptable were thy prayers. 
 
 111. 
 
 I would relate unto thee the wondrous works of tlio ravishers of the 
 
 heart. 
 But I know naught concerning it — they abstract it from my breast. 
 
 I will bear whatever cruelty the beloved may heap upon me : 
 God forbid that any one recreant unto love should be found ! 
 
 I obtain no relief, even though in her sen-ice my life I lay down ; 
 For my heart still reproacheth me, that I have not done enough. 
 
 There is no such cool water, whereby my thirst shall bo quenched ; 
 And I shall thus wander, with breast on fire, till time shall end. 
 
 I shed floods of tears, but she showeth no sympathy towiU-ds me : 
 Let not any one, God ! a mistress have, so cruel and unkind ! 
 
 This also, both high and low, great and small, will xuidei-stand — 
 When doth any one, without being ailing, unto the physician go? 
 
 The afflictions of the sick they increase : there is no cm-e for them ; 
 For there are no skilful physicians remiiiuing : they have all left 
 the land ! 
 
 Hajjpy are the whole and the healthy, tliat need not medicine ; 
 For those, with this malady afflicted, obtain no ease to their pain. 
 
 ■■'««£/ 
 
KHWAJAH MUHAMMAD, BANGASH. 331 
 
 " I have meted unto every one his destiny," so the KurTui saith : 
 Who then shall change the lot He luito Khwajau Muhammad 
 assigned 1 
 
 IV. 
 
 Shonldst thou become the possessor of the world's throne and 
 
 sceptre, 
 Be not arrogant ! for in the end thou wilt be plundered and 
 
 despoiled. 
 
 All will be equally on a par, one with the other, after death, 
 Whether it be the beggar, the wealthy man, or the prince. 
 
 Since thy place, at last, is the dark earth beneath. 
 
 Manifest neither gladness nor predilection for the world's affixirs. 
 
 It will become shattered to atoms by the stones of death, 
 
 To whatever degree thou niayest the body's glass vessel guard. 
 
 If thou considerest it thy duty, the necessities of the poor to relieve, 
 The Almighty will never let thee be under necessity unto any one. 
 
 "When a friend presenteth himself, show thy bounty to the utmost ; 
 Since there are merely these five days of existence for thee. 
 
 Adorn thy piety by good actions and praiseworthy deeds ; 
 For a bride without adornment and jewels 't is unusual to see. 
 
 The whole of this darkness shall be expelled from thine heart, 
 If thou lightest up within it, the lamp of love divine. 
 
 Wlien are such things brought about by armies or by legions, 
 As are accomplished by the fervid enthusiasm of love 1 
 
332 KHWAJAII MUHAMMAD, BANGASH. 
 
 If the lover be small iu stature, but be great iu heart, 
 Tlien of what use is ^Eaj's gigantic stature uuto him 1* 
 
 Love hath brought dishonour, both iu this -world and the next. 
 Upon one Majnun ;t upon another ^lausui", Hillaj's son.J 
 
 ^^^lat would the sportsman in the forest know concerning it, 
 If the partridge did not acquaint him by so loudly calling 1 
 
 The f\ime of Kasra's§ justice hath uuto all time remained. 
 But tyranny's scai* remaineth branded Hujuj's forehead upon.]! 
 
 The imfinished and incomplete woof of the world's warp behold ! 
 The weaver by no means soever can it to perfection bring ! 
 
 If thou aii; a lover, of slander and aspersion have no fear ! 
 But become thou the target of every one's arrow of reproach. 
 
 ^Vhat are the sins of Khwajah Muhammad in the eye of God, 
 AMien the ocean of His mercv in waves of beneficence rolleth 1 
 
 V. 
 
 How much longer, base one ! for the world's love wilt thoii 
 
 wander ? 
 (^uaff of the inebriating cup of love divine, tliat both sugar and 
 
 honey is ! 
 
 * Og, king- of BiLshan. 
 
 t See note at page 29. 
 
 J The name of a Sufi teacher, who is said to have att;uned the highest 
 stage of Sufi-ism, and who jtroclaimed, " 1 am the truth ;" or, iu other 
 words, " I am God. " The constant repetition of this impious phrase 
 alarmed the orthodox priesthood, and he wae therefore seized and impaled. 
 
 § Tlie name of a Persian king, Cyrus. 
 
 11 See note at page '201. 
 
KHWAJAH MUHAMMAD, BANGASH. 333 
 
 thoii, its seekei- ! about the world to come, that is eternal, be 
 
 concerned ! 
 Place not thy affections on the transient world, tho' all its dust 
 
 were gold ! 
 
 But the counsel of monitors taketh no effect whatever wpon thee ; 
 For like mito a breast- work round thine heart, is the love of the 
 world ! 
 
 Happy the inspired, who are filled with the remembrance of the 
 
 beloved ! 
 The general world are imacquainted with the raptures and bliss 
 
 thereof ! 
 
 The Perfect One's praise is the embelhsher of the mouth, if thou 
 
 art wise : 
 Come, polish the mirror of thine heart from the tarnishing dust 
 
 thereon ! 
 
 O, what rapture have those lovers that drink of the wine of love ! 
 With the beloved, solely occupied, they are free from all griefs 
 and woes ! 
 
 Cast away, Khwajah Muhammad ! both life and goods for it ; 
 But for a tittle of the perfect saint's pain and aflBiction pray ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 Entertain not, brother ! great friendship towards the world : 
 Dost thou not, the raids of separation, on all sides perceive 1 
 
 'T is to depai-t and pass away : the world is not thy taiTying place : 
 "Whether king or beggar, all will certainly to the grave go down ! 
 
 Whether the prelate, or the priest, or the accomplished in learning, 
 Not one, by any contrivance, shall from death's debt escape ! 
 
334 KHWA.TAH MUHAMMAD BANGASH. 
 
 Thcj who are by sanctity inspired, jnirsuo not mundane love ; 
 With that of tlic Beloved One, thci-e is no love to be compared ! 
 
 Since thou .showest such yearning after the world's gi-oatness, 
 "^Miat is it after all ? reflect well, and of thy dear fiiends think ! 
 
 I was calmly reposing in my abode, along with my beloved, 
 When the hoi-semen of separation carried me hand-bound away ! 
 
 All my loved ones, from time to time, have been taken fi-om me : 
 The taV)lets of my heart have been blotted all over by gi-ief ! 
 
 I, Khwajah Muhammad, in bereavement's flame, consume ; 
 Hence sighs and lamentations, irrepressibly, issue from my naouth ! 
 
 VIT. 
 
 Since He created thee for well-doing and virtuous actions. 
 It bchoveth not, man! that thou shouldst evil commit. 
 
 Unto the Creator, day and night, render due meed of praise : 
 Let it not be that thou for a moment fail in doing so ! 
 
 Upon the throne of contentment sit, and a sovereign become ; 
 And midcr what obligation wilt thou then, to lord or chieftain l)e ? 
 
 The world's duration is but short : it will soon pass away ! 
 
 If thou art anxious as to thy award hereafter, now is thy time ! 
 
 Be prudent, and do not the world's transient pleasures pursue ! 
 Let it not be that the prosperous be ruined by the advei-se.* 
 
 Tlie torrent of death hath cai-ried whole peoples away ; 
 Then what stay canst thou make upon the face of the flood ? 
 
 * The prosptTous here signifies "immortal joys," nnd the ndverse, 
 " worldly pleasures." 
 
 W 
 
KHWAJAH MUHAMMAD, BANGASH. 335 
 
 TlioTi wilt be awakened, .at last, by the herald's summons, 
 Notwithstanding thou maj^est upon the softest couch repose ! 
 
 In no way shalt thou be able the toils of death to escape. 
 Even shouldst thou with seventy thousand screens thyself 
 surromid ! 
 
 Since sweet existence is ever melting like imto snow away, 
 How much longer, with harp and rebeck, wilt thou i-evel and 
 rejoice? 
 
 Sometimes the green com is cut down ; sometimes the ripe : 
 ^Miat dependence canst thou place, then, upon youthfulness or age 1 
 
 Fear, Kkwajah Muhammad ! fear, fear for thyself ! 
 
 There, what answer wilt thou make, if the Almighty question thee 1 
 
 The hopes of Khwajah MuhajMmad are upon Thy mercy placed : 
 If Thou rebukest him he hath not tlie power to reply ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 If thou takest into consideration the many favours of the Almighty, 
 "\^1ien wilt thou be able, for even one of them, fitting thanks to 
 return ? 
 
 One of the favours He hath bestowed upon thee is Islam's true 
 
 faith : 
 The other, that He hath placed thee the gi-eat Huma's shadow''^ 
 
 beneath. 
 
 Let it not happen, that in the end, thou shoiddst lament about that, 
 For which, like the nightingale, thou constantly sacrificest thyself. 
 
 * jMuhammad the Prophet is probably meant here ; but see note at page 
 137. 
 
336 KHWAJAH MUHAlfMAD, BANGASH. 
 
 The world shall embrace thy feet and thy hands w-ith affection, 
 If thoii make thyself the dust of the feet of holy men. 
 
 Thou shalt, at that time, attain unto the object of thy wishes, 
 When thou shalt make thy life and goods an oblation xmto them. 
 
 It behoveth thee to consider each respiration as the last ; 
 For death many people hath honieless and desolate made. 
 
 Mankind come into the world, and soon from it depart : 
 
 How canst thou then place any hope upon this transient abode ] 
 
 But I will eschew even the sovereigiity of the world itself, 
 If Thou make Khwajaii Muh.vmmad a beggar, at his loved one's 
 door. 
 
 IX. 
 
 If thou possessest the love and regard of the Almighty, 
 
 Thou wilt tear thyself away V)oth from brother and from friend. 
 
 Like unto Majnun, thou wilt begin in wilds to wander : 
 Thou wilt never take accomit of the thorns and brambles by the 
 way. 
 
 Until thou easiest not off entirely all thy superfluous flesh, 
 contender in the race ! thou wilt never reach the goal. 
 
 Day and night thou piu'suest this transient world. 
 
 And hast, foolish one ! turned from the inunortal away. 
 
 At last, He will take away from thee, by force, for ever, 
 This borrowed garment,* that is so very precious luito thee. 
 
 * The body, the borrowed garment of tlie t^oiil. 
 
KHWAJAH MUHAMMAD, BANGASH. 337 
 
 The beasts of the field, when grazing, eat not up every herb, 
 But thou turnest not away thy face from any one thing. 
 
 Until it shall be melted the saint-like teacher's crucible within, 
 Thou wilt not be able to separate this silver from its tin alloy. 
 
 Notwithstanding, before him, thou mayest the beloved pi*aise ; 
 Still, thou canst not manhood from the impotent hope. 
 
 I, Khwajah Muhammad, am immersed in the ocean of grief, 
 If thou, my master ! wilt save me from this raging flood. 
 
 X. 
 
 Give ear, brother ! unto the request I make xmio thee : — 
 Be not, by the contemptible deception of the world, led astray ! 
 
 By its deceit, it maketh people despiteful luito each other : 
 It passeth around a golden cup with deadliest poison filled. 
 
 The millstones of fate, romid the heads of mankind revolve ; 
 And some time or other, the tm'u for thy head shall come. 
 
 By the severe bridle of fasting, cm-b the lusts of the flesh • 
 For with a halter thou wilt be miable, this steed to restrain. 
 
 The object of food is to keep body and soul together, and no more, 
 Although thou mayest have in thy possession aU sorts of things. 
 
 To clothe the body is necessary, and it behoveth us so to do. 
 Though but two or three yards of blanket or of canvas it be. 
 
 Thy every breath is a pearl and coral of inestimable price : 
 Be careful, therefore, and guard every respiration well ! 
 
 Let the whole of thy words be conformable with thy deeds ; 
 And in no wise in vain and foolish conversation indulge ! 
 
 7j 
 
338 KHWAJAH MUHAMMAD, BANGASH. 
 
 Tell me what extent of torment thou wilt be able to bear ; 
 And commit no more sin than may be equivalent thereunto. 
 
 By the rain of spring viill become all saturated at last, 
 The paper dress in which thou mayest have clothed thyself. 
 
 Unto the money-changer, its exterior and interior wiU be known ; 
 Notwithstanding thou shouldst, with gold, bi'ass ever so enwrap. 
 
 The head of this arrow will not come out from thy bones. 
 Until thy flesh shall have been by the sharp diamond incised.* 
 
 It was because he made use of words of arrogance and pride, 
 That Satan himself was wholly from God's mercy deban-ed. 
 
 Without doubt, all good and all misfortune are from the Almighty : 
 Wherefore then unto doubt, givest thou a place in thine heait ? 
 
 In thy ways indeed, thou art still more silly than childi'en, 
 Even now that thy years are beyond forty and fifty passed. 
 
 Shouldst thou drink one mouthful from the cup of love, 
 Like unto Khizrt and Mihtar Iliyas,;}: thou wilt never die ! 
 
 I am filled with teiTor and dismay, beyond all bounds ; 
 For the Tempter waylayeth me before and on every side ! 
 
 I, KnwAJAH Muhammad, am prostrate at thy threshold, 
 If thou, my master ! wilt but take me by the hand ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 The love of the world hath made thee so insensate, 
 That thou hast wholly forgotten the duties of religion. 
 
 * It is believed that the wound which a diamond touches will never 
 heal. 
 I See note at page 48. 
 } Ellas, said to have been a grandson of Shem, son of ^'oah. 
 
KHWAJAH MUHAMMAD, BANGASH. 33.9 
 
 Like unto the cat, thou art ever upon the watch : 
 Thou art of no use soever to any one, save the rat. 
 
 Outwardly, thou hast clothed thyself in sanctity's dress, 
 O deceiver ! thou vender of barley, but shower of wheat ! 
 
 ^Mien the opportunity hath passed away, then wilt thou grieve ; 
 And when the cup of death shall be given thee to quaff. 
 
 Thou hearest with thine ears the cries of the outcast ; 
 And the cries at thy decease too, shall reach others' ears. 
 
 Mankind He hath created to walk in righteousness' ways : 
 Thou art not a beast ; theii not sinfully, biit worthily act ! 
 
 ^^1len thou leavest the body's house, take viaticimi with thee ; 
 For there, beloved ! are no means for obtaining it. 
 
 Thou art a pilgrim, and wilt depart : anxious therefore be : 
 Bind up thine effects, and reflect upon the long journey before ! 
 
 The path in front the Tempter haunteth : go not alone ! 
 Arise ! search about thee ! and tliy companions select ! 
 
 If one, even with every effort, cannot the goal attain ; 
 No man can reach it without striving so to do. 
 
 Every morning and evening raise thy voice unto God ! 
 Tears of blood shed in the depth of thy heart's emotion ! 
 
 All other love, save one, is naught but deadly poison : 
 
 From the cupbearer's goblet, then, joj'fuUy take one draught ! 
 
 Groan and lament, but so that no one may hear thee ! 
 Remember thy beloved in thine heart, but with silent lips ! 
 
 The woi-ld is black, and maketh man's face so too at last ; 
 But drink thou the wine of love, and red-faced become !* 
 
 * To become face-blackened, is to become disgraced ; and red-faced, to 
 be honoured and exalted. 
 
340 KHWAJAH MUHAMMAD, BANGASH. 
 
 Without anxiety, O Khwajah Muhammad ! sleep not ; 
 Since thou hast been by death's repeated warnings apprised ! 
 
 I, Khwajah MumvMMAD, am of sins and offences full ; 
 But, hider of Axults ! I place my trust in Thee ! 
 
 XII. 
 
 From all ills, shield Thou me, God, my Protector ! 
 For save Thee, there is none other, my Protector ! 
 
 Unto Tliee I have intrusted the affairs of both worlds : 
 
 Of all things, both of faith and comitry, Thou art the Protector ! 
 
 The flesh and the devil, alas ! waylay me evei-}"T\-here : 
 
 I have no means of escape, save through Tliee, Protector ! 
 
 Of the world's calamities and woes, I shall have no dread ; 
 Since, everywhere. Thou art my shield from ill, Protector ! 
 
 "Wlien I draw near unto Tlaee, go Thou before, my guide ! 
 For on this road I have no other friend but Thee, Protector ! 
 
 Every morn I cry unto Thee : with Thee I for union yeani ; 
 Then, one morn, acce})t the prayer of my heart, Protector ! 
 
 Upon sinful Khwajah Muhammad Thy love bestow, 
 
 That he may ever praise and call upon thy name, Protector ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Wherefore dost thou not follow righteousness, my stony heart ! 
 When thy beloved friends, one after the other, continually dis- 
 appear ? 
 
 Tho\i ! who hast bound so many loads upon thy back, and set 
 
 oiit — 
 
 1 b)\v wilt thou pass along the path in front, so narrow and confined ? 
 
KHWAJAH MUHAMMAD, BANGASH. 341 
 
 Biun thyself and become ashes, if thoa truly lovest the beloved : 
 Draw near, suitor ! learn thou from the moth true love ! 
 
 Give up this world ! leave it to the negligent and the remiss ! 
 From heedlessness' dark film, make thou the mirror bright ! 
 
 The gai-ment's hem of my patron saint, I have, with both hands 
 
 seized : 
 In the conflict with the flesh and the devil I shall conquer perhaps. 
 
 As the breath of the charmer to the afflicted, such is a sight of 
 
 thee : 
 I will become thy sacrifice, thou anchorite at the loved-one's door ! 
 
 Let both my life and goods be an oblation, mediator ! unto thee ; 
 But the face of the beloved, so beaiitiful, show thou unto me ! 
 
 Rivers have overflowed, and distant lands have become flooded ; 
 But, alas ! of thirst I die, at the brink of a mighty stream ! 
 
 Give not away, wholly, to sorrow, Khwajah Muhammad ! 
 For the Perfect One will confer honour upon the servants at His 
 firate ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Unto the whole and healthy, I am unable of my heart's state to 
 
 speak ; 
 And should I not tell it, I am unable its pain to endure. 
 
 To this degree I am become a reproach all people amongst, 
 
 That I am altogether unable out of my own house of sorrow to go. 
 
 From grief, on account of slander, I am fallen, with eyes closed ; 
 For through shame, I am unable to look any one in the face. 
 
342 KHWAJAU MUHAMMAD, BANGASH. 
 
 Mj throat hath become so embittered by the cup of separation, 
 That I cannot taste aught of the sweetness of this world. 
 
 I cannot make my beloved acquainted with my condition ; 
 For tlu-ough fear of the kill-joy, I am unable my case to state. 
 
 I would leave the beloved, and depart to a far distant land ; 
 But I am iinable in any way the bonds of affection to break. 
 
 The tears of separation flow so continually down my cheeks, 
 That I cannot upon my eyeballs retain the image of my beloved. 
 
 Like the tulip,"' the blood of my own vitals I am over consuming ] 
 For I, Khwajah Muhammad, am luiable, openly, to speak. 
 
 But I am altogether a recreant and a speaker of falsehood ; 
 Since, to the love of the beloved, I cannot my life devote. 
 
 XV. 
 
 I am a complainant against absence : a complainant am I ! 
 For it separated me, weeping and wailing, ray loved-one from I 
 
 ^ly love is the immortal soul, and I the form containing it ; 
 And from its soul, the separation of the body is bitter indeed ! 
 
 My very vitals have become entirely consumed in the flames : 
 Alas ! alas ! separation ! what dost thou require of me ? 
 
 1 am not criminal, tliat I grieve and complain so much : 
 
 'T is that my heart is broken, and my breast with fire consumed ! 
 
 If prosperity attend me in all other things, what shall I do with 
 
 them ? 
 For without thee, tlic whole world hath become desolate to me ! 
 
 * The tulip of a blood-red colour. 
 
KHWlJAH MUHAMMAD, BANG ASH. 343 
 
 The anguish of my heart, on thy account, every moment iucreaseth : 
 Henceforth of remedy or cure I shall quite hopeless become ! 
 
 The physicians neglected to make her acquainted with my case ; 
 And, at the Last Day, I will seize them by the collars therefore ! 
 
 Khwajah Muhammad ! make thou resignation thy daily task : 
 Entertain no hope that, from this world, thou shalt constancy find ! 
 
 Since according to my desire thou never earnest unto me, 
 Say, say, relentless fate ! in what I have offended thee ! 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Show thou no yearnings for the greatness of this world ; 
 For many tribes, at death's wail, have desolate become ! 
 
 Those dear friends, who were like spring's flowers unto, 
 
 In the sultry heats of autumn, grew withered, and decayed. 
 
 They are all now prostrate fallen, the dank earth iipon. 
 Who, with turbans placed so jauntily, rode their fiery steeds. 
 
 And they w'ho were wont upon the couches of the fair to lie — 
 Of their deaths, many amiivei'saries have come and passed away. 
 
 Those youths and fair maidens are now buried in the dust, 
 Whose hands were still more soft than even velvet itself. 
 
 The excellent of their time have passed from the world away. 
 Around whom their disciples gathered their discourses to hear. 
 
 Upon what wound of mine w'ill the physicians salve apply ] 
 For, with the diamonds* of separation I am all covered with 
 wounds. 
 
 * See note at page 338. 
 
34 4 KHWAJAH MUHAMMAD, BANGASH. 
 
 Wheu I call to mind the pleasant meetings of friends so dear, 
 I, KnwAJAii MunAMMAO weep, but not fur any crime. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 The whole of my grief is love for thee, love, love for thee ! 
 My heart is to atoms broken : it hath become blood, all blood ! 
 
 My very vitals are become gorged with red, red blood, 
 Though clothed in garments outwardly white, all white ! 
 
 Thou iuflictest fresh wounds upon me, again and again, 
 Altho' of my foraier ones unhealed are many, very many ! 
 
 Thou hast not shown aught of kindness in life towiU'ds me : 
 Of what use shoiddst thou do so, when I die, when I die ! 
 
 Thou hast expelled me entirely from the giU'den, my love ! 
 And the black crows within it consimie the ripe, ripe fruit ! 
 
 Thy dark tresses have the wht^)le land with fragrance filled : 
 
 Thy curls are as the musk-pods of Chin, all peifumc, all perfume ! 
 
 Those sleepy eyes of thine are lions, both tierce and ravenous ; 
 For they bear away Khwajau Muham^iad unto death, cruel death ! 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Since thou art the sovereign over the whole of the fair, 
 Intiuirc after the condirion of the wretched and distressed ! 
 
 Break not hearts ! for they arc iiibies of Badakhshan : 
 It is dithcult to repair such broken things again ! 
 
 My Ill-art and soul are entirely bound up in lovo \''<v thee ; 
 Look then, these thine own heart-bound ones upon ! 
 
KHWAJAH MUHAMMAD, BANGASH. 345 
 
 The flowers of the parteiTC have all revived thereby ; 
 For the zephyr hath come from the nosegay of thy face. 
 
 AVhen they beheld, with their eyes, thy stature and figure, 
 The waists of all the adorned ones crooked became. 
 
 They have deprived me altogether of sense and xmderstanding — 
 Those gentle, tender words of thine, so pleasant and so sweet. 
 
 My head than the seventh heaven shall be higher exalted, 
 If thou makest me one of the sitters in thy court. 
 
 Like imto thee, there is none other of disposition so noble ; 
 Didst thou, indeed, from the angels this natm-e acquire ] 
 
 The heart of Khwajah that thus speaketh, hath been carried away 
 By the wiles and persuasion of those closed-mouthed ones. 
 
 Life and goods, as an oblation to them, will I give ; 
 For I, Khwajau Muhammad, am the disciple of the fair ! 
 
 XIX. 
 
 They, who were enamoured of the red roses of the parterre, 
 Have now the nightingales of grief and sorrow become. 
 
 With cries and lamentations thou grievest for them ; 
 
 Since the roses have all been scattered by autumn's dread blast. 
 
 They, who were then intoxicated with the flowers' pei'fume. 
 Have now become requited by separation's dread pangs. 
 
 Their pastimes and their laughter were apart from the world : 
 The world's pleasxu-es and joys became deadly poison to them. 
 
 As yet, they had not tasted of union's sweet fruit, 
 When loving friends became severed in soitow and gTief. 
 
346 KHWAJAH MLHAMMAD, BANGASH. 
 
 P'or a few short days, the bhss of conjunction they enjoyed ; 
 But now j-ears of separation have their portion become. 
 
 Should they now flee from destiny, they cannot escape ; 
 Since grief is the portion of lovers from the beginning of time. 
 
 The physicians of the age, if they are cognizant of much. 
 
 How arc they thus so ignorant of Ktiwajah Muhammad's pangs ? 
 
 With sighs and with gi-oans, I will lament unceasingly ; 
 For I ever long that the hour of my union were come ! 
 
 XX. 
 
 Many youths and maidens have the dark dust's captives become, 
 Tlie fair focos uf whom are the source of the giief of om* hearts ! 
 
 Place not your hojjes upon this transient world, for t is no j)enna- 
 
 nent abode ! 
 The whole of us, each in his own good time, shall follow after them ! 
 
 They who were the gi-eat men of the land, and possessed the wealth 
 
 thereof; 
 From the world have wholly disappeared, both name and trace of 
 
 them. 
 
 They, before whom the poor were wont in hinnility to stand, 
 In the tomb, on their backs fallen, have now mouldered away. 
 
 For munificence and for justice their names still remain, 
 Though ITatim Ta-yr, and Nosherwanf have long from the world 
 departed. 
 
 • See third note at page 207. f See sepond note at page '201. 
 
KHWAJAH MUHAMMAD, BANGASH. 347 
 
 Neitlier by power, uor by entreaty is there any escape from death : 
 Happy the sanctified, who are occupied with eternal things ! 
 
 My heart hath become rent to atoms by the diamond* of sepa- 
 ration ; 
 
 For, one after the other, all my dear friends have been severed 
 from me. 
 
 All must hence depart : for what can Khwajah Muhammad lujpe, 
 When holy and venerated prophets have mito the dust gone down 't 
 
 XXL 
 
 Fruitlessly in the world thy lifetime thou hast passed, 
 ^Vhether it extended unto sixty, or unto eighty years ! 
 
 The fortunate have carried away advantage from it ; 
 But thou, save evil, hast no other result acquired ! 
 
 The friends of thy acquaintance have all gone from thee ; 
 And still thou perceivest it not, man, with open eyes asleep ! 
 
 When grief and sorrow man afflict, he sleepeth not : 
 Art thou a beast, or a man of himiau parents born 1 
 
 Thy fathers and grandfathers all hath death cut off ; 
 And thou, above all others, wilt not alone escape ! 
 
 Alive in the world not one will remain behind : 
 
 No one can have taken on himself thy obligations to fulfil ! 
 
 Thy beard from age is white, and thy back is bent : 
 
 How much longer then canst thou expect erect to remain ? 
 
 Thy sixty years have passed, and thou art old become ; 
 Yet thou accountest thyself of the age of fourteen still ! 
 
 * See note at pag-e 338. 
 
348 KHWAJAH MUHAMMAD, BANGASH. 
 
 If thou art \rise, turn devotee, and the -world forsake ; 
 For they who this life choose, are in both worlds free ! 
 
 The veil of scepticism from thy face draw aside ; 
 And unto the Master's will let thy assent be given ! 
 
 Become thou the servant at the winc-scUci's' door, 
 Tliat wine from the cup of love be given imto thee ! 
 
 Thou One and Only tJod ! unto righteousness direct me, 
 That, the straight path upon, I may come \mto Thee ! 
 
 If I liavc evil cothmitted, a rtlde slave consider me ; 
 And pardon me, according to Thine own peculiar way ! 
 
 AMien man giveth aught to another, again he taketh it ; 
 But Thou art God, and takcst not back thy gifts again ! 
 
 Thou all-possessing Deity ! the sinner Khwajah Muhammad free ! 
 For the rich always gi^aut liberty their aged slaves unto ! 
 
 Thou ait the hidcr of thy servant's sins, Lord ! 
 
 In mercy, of Khwajah Muhammad's rend not Thou the veil ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
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 PHce, £i.ls. 
 
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 PUS'HTO, PUK'HTO, OR AFGHAN LANGUAGE. 
 
 IL 
 
 Uniform with the above, One Vol., pp. 416. Price^ £2. '2s. 
 
 GULSHAN-I-ROPI : 
 
 BEI^'G 
 
 SELECTION'S, PROSE AND POETICAL, 
 
 THE PUS'HTO, OR AFGHAN LANGUAGE. 
 
 IIL 
 
 In One Vol., j^p- 26o, uniform with the above. Price, £1 . Is. 
 
 A GRAMMAR 
 
 OF THE 
 
 PUS'HTO, OR AFGHAN LANGUAGE. 
 
 THE FOLLOWING ARE A FEW OF THE OPINIONS OP ORIENTAL SCHOLARS 
 AND OF THE PRESS, ON THE ABOVE WORKS : 
 
 "The works show everywhere marks of gTeat and conscientious 
 labour ; and several European scholars, as the testimonials and extracts 
 show, have spoken very hig-hly of the manner in which the Author has 
 performed his task. Captain Raverty has devoted many years to the 
 
OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 study of Pushto, and these volumes, the result of those 3-ears of patient 
 toil (comprising: a Grammar on tli^ plan of Sir William Jones's Pei-sian 
 Grammar, a Dictionary, and a large selection of Prose and Poetry) will 
 supply the Pushto student with ever}- facility for mastering- the lan- 
 guage. — Jieport of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, to the Government of 
 India. 
 
 From M. Bernhard Dom, D.D., Privy Counsellor, and Professor of 
 Oriental Languages in tJie Imperial Academy of St. Petersburg.* 
 '' Although I do not agree with you in some points discussed in the 
 Preface to the first edition of your Afghan Grammar, and other works ; 
 3-et I shall, with pleasure, express my full ajiprobation of your exploits in 
 the field of Afghan lore. My own exertions in this verj' field will now 
 almost entirely disappear before yours ; hut I feel happy that my favourite 
 language (the Pughto) has found in you a master whose long residence in 
 the East has enabled him to outvie me. But you will readily accord me 
 the merit of having worked with some success upon my very scant}' 
 materials. I hope that the British Government will confer on you that 
 reward which vou so fully deserve." 
 
 " The Grammar of Lieut. Raverty, which is sufficiently elaborate, and 
 in which the rules are supported by copious and well-chosen extracts 
 from classical Pushto Authors, will be gladly hailed by every linguist. A 
 Dictionarv and Text-book, promised by the same Author, will supply all 
 the helps required to master a language which ought not to be neg- 
 lected, — at least by those who rule Peshawar, the valley of the Yusufzjes 
 aiid the Derajat. . . In his preliminar}* dissertation, Lieut. Raverty can- 
 vasses the opinions of others with regard to the family of languages to 
 which Pushto should be assigned, without, however, recording his own. 
 This we regret; for being in other respects an accomplished linguist, and 
 possessing probably a better knowledge of Pushto than any other Euro- 
 pean, he was very competent to decide the point." — Athenceum, August 
 30th, 1856. 
 
 "Captain H. G. Raverty has published two volumes on the language 
 and literature of the Afghans, under the titles of ' A Dictionary of the 
 Afghan Language' and 'The Gulshan-i-Roh ;' the latter being selec- 
 
 ' Tlip lirst Oriental scholar wlio wrote on the Af^jlian Langiinjro. 
 
OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 tions, in prose and verse, from pieces in the same tongue. Of the learn- 
 ing- and abiHty with which the iirst is compiled, and the latter selected, 
 the name of Captain Raverty is a sufficient guarantee." — Athenceum, Sept. 
 24:th, 1861. 
 
 " At last, after many years of expectation, we have just received from 
 Captain Raverty a good instalment of Af gh an literature, consisting of three 
 
 magnificent volumes (He is not to be blamed for the delay which 
 
 has occurred in the publication of his works ; and his Grammar at least 
 
 might have been published long ago if it had not been for the old adage 
 
 ' Habent sua fata libelli.') .... The first edition, which was printed at 
 Calcutta in 1855, has now been followed by a second edition, which has 
 had the benefit of the Author's careful correction.*), and will probably 
 continue the standard Grammar of this interesting and important language 
 for many years to come. ... On the practical importance of an Afghan 
 Grammar we need not waste any words. The English army paid with 
 its best blood for the blunders of those who were unable to fathom the 
 treachery of the Afghans, chiefly owing to their ignorance of the 
 language of the people, whom they thought they had both conquered 
 and subdued. We read in Lady t^ale's Journal, that the traitor, 
 Mohammed Akber, was able, before tiie eyes of the English officers, 
 to excite the A fgh ans, in their own language, to the murder of the un- 
 believers, while giving his words of command in Persian, in order to 
 convince the English, who knew that language, of the friendly disposi- 
 tion of himself and his followers." — Saturday JReview, Nov. 24th, 1860. 
 
 '' That within five years of its first publication demand should arise for 
 a new edition of Captain Ravertj^'s A fgh an Grammar, and that he should 
 be encouraged, by a full subscription list, to join with the improved 
 edition of his Grammar a substantial Afghan Dictionary and a Reading 
 Book, we may take to be good evidence of work well done. Captain 
 Raverty, who has distinguished himself greatly as an Oriental linguist, 
 without finding his worldly position as an Indian officer to be in any 
 degree bettered by his labours, studied the A fgh an language for himself, 
 and made an Afghan Grammar for himself, when .stationed at Peshawar 
 with his regiment in the j'ears 1849 and 1850. Only two men had at 
 that time mastered the language, and of these two men, one was a 
 Russian Professor. .... In the excellence of Captain Raverty's own 
 ' Garden of Friendship,' we have a substantial faith ; while as to that in 
 
OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 it which is open to all eyes, we may say that the beauty of the printing- 
 in these volumes makes of them at any rate a Garden of Tj'pe, that 
 might of itself almost entice a man to study Pushto." — Examiner, Sept. 
 8th, 1860. 
 
 " Of Captain llaverty's three handsome quarto volumes, v,e can say no 
 more at present than that they are remarkable monuments of the industry, 
 enterprise, and linguistic attainments of their Author and Editor." — 
 Spectator, Sept. 1st, IbGO. 
 
 " It will hardly be believed that before the year 1855 there was no 
 Grammar to be had in England or in India, from which an English officer 
 might acquire the rudiments of the language of Afghrinistan. Xor can it 
 be too often repeated, that, even before the beginning of the Afghan wars, 
 the Russian Government had appointed a Professor of Pushto (the lan- 
 guage of the Afghans) at St. Petersburg. There, at St. Petei'sburg, 
 young officers and diplomatists had to pass examinations in the dialect of 
 the warlike mountaineers of Roh ; while our generals and ambassadors, 
 employed on missions of the liighest importance in the very heart of that 
 country, had to depend for information on the honesty of interpreters. 
 Afghan chiefs were able to talk treason in Pusjito before the noses of our 
 generals, while assuring them of their fidelity in high-flown strains of 
 Persian eloquence. "W'e would not willingly open that sad chapter of 
 Indian history if its lessons had not already been forgotten. But if we 
 read Captain Raverty's Introduction to his Pushto Grammar, it is the old 
 story over again. . . Captain Raverty has deserved, by his publications, 
 the thanks not oidy of the Indian Government, but also of all Oriental 
 scholars in Europe. Pushto is a language of considerable interest in the 
 Uterary history of the East, and Captain Raverty's works have enabled 
 those who take an interest in these subjects to form a more correct and 
 comprehensive view of the literature of that nation than the earUer, but 
 less complete pubUcations of Professor Dorn at St. Petersburg. . . We 
 claim for Captain Raverty i)ublic support, and we are glad indeed to see 
 that his long, and very valuable, and laboi-iuus undertakijig, has already 
 received an amount of encounigenient \\ Inch argues well fur the future 
 success of a work which is, to all intents and purposes, national." — Anni/ 
 and Nai'y Gazette, February dtli, 18(51. 
 
 W. M. WATTS, CROWN COIKT. TKMPI.t: BAR. 
 
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