Chapter XXIX: Introduction (2)

Be thou welcome, he said. The Most High hath created none more worthy of reverence than thou; thy people are also the most favored of all in his sight. As for me, I feel more compassion for thine, than for their fathers and mothers. Thou hast rejoiced my heart, I answered, and thou hast freed my soul from its anguish. Nevertheless, there remains one care. Why do I see thee so full of sadness and grief?

Apostle of God, he replied, since almighty God appointed me to this ministry I fear that I shall not worthily fill the office and that I shall be unable to render account for it. And what, then, is that bowl? I asked. It is the entire lower world from Mount Kâf to Mount Kâf; it occupies no more space than that in my eyes, and I wield there a supreme power. And that small board? It is that which marks the appointed hour of every creature. And this leaflet? It is the record of all that happens. And that tree? On its leaves are inscribed the names of all creatures, happy or unhappy, with their felicity or their misery. If anyone be sick, his leaf becomes yellow. When the moment of his death comes, this same leaf falls on the tablet, where his name is blotted out. Then I stretch forth my hand and seize his soul whether it be in the east or the west. If it be the soul of one blessed, I give it to the angels on my right, who are the angels of divine mercy. If it be the soul of a reprobate, I consign it to those on my left, who are the angels of damnation.

And what is the number of all these angels?

I know not; only every time I receive the soul of one dying there are present 600,000 angels of mercy and 600,000 angels of damnation, who observe to which category the soul belongs, and those who have assisted once at this function will never return to witness it again until the day of the resurrection.

Angel of Death, I said, is it indeed thou who dost seize the souls of all dying?

Since I was created I have never moved from this place where thou dost see me now, but I have in my service 70,000 angels, each of whom has likewise under his orders 70,000 angels. When I desire to seize a soul, they go to conduct the soul of the dying one into his throat, whence I receive it, stretching forth my hand from this throne.

I entreat thee, said the Prophet, to consider the weakness of my followers and to take them only with gentleness and care.

I call Allah to witness, said Azraël, he who hath created thee the seal of prophets and his chief friend, that the Creator (everlasting glory to him!) in person urges me 70,000 times night and day to take the souls of the followers of Mahomet gently, and to let all my dealings with them be as considerate as possible. Assuredly I have more affection for them than their own mothers.

Sixth. I also saw there a sea whose waters were whiter than snow. Gabriel, questioned by me, told me that it was called the Sea of Snow, and if a drop of its waters escape the heavens and earth would perish with cold.

Seventh. I saw the blooming temple _beïti ma’mour_. [According to others, the _beïti el ma’mour_ was situated on the _sidret-el-mountehâ_ above the seventh heaven. However this may be, this is the description of it given by the Prophet.] It is a mansion of red hyacinth with two portals of green emerald. Ten thousand lustres of red gold hung from the ceiling, adorned with hyacinths and gems every one of which shed forth more light than the sun. At the door of this temple was placed a pulpit of gold and a minaret of white silver, whose height was that of a 500-years’ journey. Since the temple was created, and so it will be until the day of the resurrection, every day 70,000 angels coming under the arch bathe in a sea of light; they make the circuit like pilgrims clad with the _ihrâm_, repeating _Lebbeïk, lebbeïk_ (We are here, we are here); and once they have performed this duty their turn will never come again until the day of the resurrection.

Then Gabriel, taking me by the hand, led me to the blossoming temple and said to me, Apostle of God, perform here the functions of imam, and let the angels take thee for a model. I said a prayer of two _rik’at_, and I served as model for the angels who people the seven heights of the heaven. At the sight of this multitude surrounding me there came to my mind that my followers might unite in the same manner. He who penetrates all secrets and hidden things made a commandment of the desire nestling in my heart: O Mahomet, there should be among thy followers a meeting of this kind and which will be a day of reunion, _yeomi djum’a_.

[In certain commentaries it is said that on the day of reunion the angels who people the heavens meet at the blossoming temple. Gabriel recites the _ezân_ upon the minaret, Esrâfil pronounces the _khotbèh_ in the pulpit; Mikaïl fills the office of imam, and the angels of the seven heavens follow his directions.

When the prayer of the day of reunion is finished, Gabriel says: O ye angels, bear witness that I yield the recompense for my _ezân_ to the _muezzin_ of the followers of Mahomet. Esrâfil, in his turn, says that he yields to their _khatib_ the reward of the _khotbèh_, and Mikaïl abandons to them the recompense for the _imamat_, while the angels do as much for all the faithful who join in common prayer. Then the most high God, speaking to the angels, says: Do ye think to show me what generosity is, I who am the Creator of generosity! Be ye witnesses that I remit all the sins of the followers of Mahomet, and that I deliver them from hell!]

Eighth. There, it is said, the Prophet saw the sun, which, according to a tradition, is 160 times the size of the terrestrial globe. According to Ibn-Abbas, its breadth is that of a 60,000-years’ journey. When God created the sun, he made for it a golden barge, on which he placed a throne of red hyacinth, with 360 steps, on each one of which were 1,000 angels. The sun was placed on the barge, which is placed on a throne by 360,000 angels. Every day they guide the barge on the sea of the fourth heaven from sunrise to sunset; then they devote themselves to the adoration of the Most High. The next day, 360,000 other angels come to take the places of those who did this service the day before; and so will it be until the day of the resurrection without the recurrence of the same angels’ turn. The Lord God has said: The sun goes to its fixed point.

According to certain commentaries, the fixed point of the sun is beneath the arch, to the foot of which this star is brought back every night, and where it is prostrated before the Most High until the dawn. At that moment, obedient to the divine command, it comes forth from the east, and so it will be until the approach of resurrection day. It will then receive the command to rise in the west. This tradition is preserved in the book of the deceased Imam Talebi, entitled “Araïs” (“The Betrothed”).

Then, said the Prophet, I reached the fifth heaven.

Without pausing, we proceeded forward. As soon as we had reached the fourth heaven, Gabriel, always at his post, passing before me, knocked at the gate, saying: Open! Who is there? he was asked. I, Gabriel, he replied, accompanying Mahomet, the king of apostles. Be ye welcome! exclaimed the angels who guarded the gate, and who, opening the gate, approached us. This heaven was of gold entirely red. Here was an angel named Salsail. He advanced to meet us, and Gabriel saluted him, whereupon Salsail said to me: Receive our congratulations, O Mahomet! Thou who art in so great favor with the Lord God, thou who art the greatest of all prophets! It is for thee to intercede for thy followers, O well-beloved of the Lord, for thee whose happy star has made thy followers the most fortunate of all!

I saw innumerable choirs of angels standing to receive the commands of Salsail. All recited unceasingly the _tesbih_, nor did they grow weary night or day. Here, too, I saw David, whom I saluted. He returned the salutation and said to me, Welcome, O apostle of truth, venerable brother, august prophet! With David I also saw Solomon in this heaven. As soon as they saw me they came to meet me, and exchanged salutations. Here I saw seated on a throne an angel whose luminous brilliancy filled the heaven. So imposing and majestic was his appearance that none can look upon his countenance. His head almost touched the arch, while his feet reached down below the earth. The entire universe was for him as a plain where each particular man is as a porringer.

Before him also was a large tablet on which he constantly fixed his eyes. Opposite the angel was a gigantic tree whose boughs were covered with green leaves, and two awe-inspiring spears were suspended before him; one white, and the other black. Entirely absorbed in his ministry, the angel paid attention to no one, and his harsh and frowning features gave him an altogether terrible and forbidding expression. At the sight of him, my soul was seized with awe, my heart grew cold, and my body trembled. Who, then, is that angel? I asked of Gabriel. At what task is busied this being of such imposing mien? Behold, said Gabriel, him who slays the sons despite their fathers’ cries, who makes children orphans, and causes the rich to weep even as the poor; he who dissolves all unions, and turns laughter into tears; Azraël himself, who bears away all souls, and leaves lifeless those who were replete with life.

I then approached him, and saluted him, but so occupied was he, that he did not glance toward me.

Brother, cried Gabriel to him, turn to this side; doff thy fierce expression, for here is the prophet of recent times, the friend of Allah, and the prince of apostles. He raised his head and saluted me, saying: Pardon me, O imam, for during the long time that I have been busy in accomplishing my work, I have not lifted my head a single time. Tell me, I said, what is that tablet, what is that tree, and what are those spears?

O Mahomet! he answered, this tree causes the death of all those who live on earth. Every one of them has his leaf on this tree, although the slime of which they were moulded was taken from the earth. Every one of them also has his name written on the leaf which is assigned to him as well as on this tablet. In whatever part of the world he is when his existence reaches the fatal hour, his leaf dries and falls at once. At the same time his name is erased from this tablet and disappears, even as he himself is wiped out and departed from the life of the earth. It is then that I take possession of his soul so inevitably that no one can find a way to escape his destiny. As for myself, I never have one minute of distraction and let nothing escape me, and never do I hearken unto the entreaties of anyone. If it be the soul of one of the elect, I seize it with this white spear. If it be, on the contrary, the soul of a reprobate, I use the black lance. If the soul be that of a faithful follower of thy creed, O Mahomet! I assist him to ascend to heaven in light; but if it be that of an infidel, I suffer it to fall in torment down to hell amid encircling gloom.

* * * * *

Having again resumed our journey, we soon reached a lofty castle, to the summit of which the eye could not attain, and the surpassing beauty of which the intelligence was powerless to grasp to its full extent.

THE ROSE AND THE NIGHTINGALE (Gül and Bülbül)

BY

MOHAMMED FASLI

[_Metrical Translation by J. von Hammer-Purgstall and Epiphanius Wilson_]

I

Blessed is the phrase that praises Allah’s name;
It is the very rosary of God’s word;
For through it blooms the rose-bed of the soul;
And through it sings the bosom’s nightingale.
Each single letter has the rose’s hue,
And thus adorns the rose-field of our faith.
B is the bloom of the creation’s rise,
The rose that stands on plains of Paradise.
S is the sultan, ruling over M;
The dew-drop sparkling on the lip of buds.
A is the cypress of God’s kindliness,
The buds of sanback, buds of promise true.
The L leads on to leaves of happiness,
Like the curled locks that deck the grove of truth;
The H is like the eyes of hyacinths;
Fresh as the rosebud when it starts to blow;
The R is like the nation of the rose,
Hither and thither tossed by morning wind.
The H is the mild breeze that sweeps the plain,
And is a symbol of eternal grace;
What is the N but Eden’s Nenuphar
The dot rests on it like a pistil point.
The J is, as it were, a jasmine flower,
Bending above a violet full in bloom.
The double mark that stands above the L
Is dew upon the leaf of hyacinths.
The points are nothing else but drops of dew,
That rest on tulip, rose, and violets.
The vowels of the sentence breathe their sounds
Like breezes scenting glades of Gulistan;
Emblems of peace are seen on every side,
Like to the peace of Eden in the world;
So do we come at last to Gulistan,
And on the new-blown roses gaze with joy.
And you, oh Fasli! to the rose-bed come,
And sing your ardent passion for the rose.

II

THE PRAISE OF GOD, THE WONDERS OF GOD, AND HIS MARVELLOUS WORKS

Thou didst with fire make red the rose’s heart,
And kindle passion in the nightingale;
Thou didst lend sweetness to the open air,
And scatter in the East the scent of musk;
To thee the spring-time owes her living crown;
The groves of roses owe their fame to thee.
’Tis thou didst paint the rose’s gallery;
And China’s flowery land had birth from thee.
The festival of roses is from thee;
The rose guests owe their genial hours to thee;
Thine is the burning aloe of the East;
Thine, the loud warbling of the nightingale;
From thee, the rose her glowing color takes;
From thee, the nightingale her melody;
The tulip’s bosom glows with love for thee;
Delight in thee perfumes the cypress boughs;
Great nature’s heart is opened at thy smile;
And by thy grace the vernal waters flow.
Thy wrath bows down the violet to the dust.
’Tis at thine indignation that it wilts.
Thou lightest tapers in the forest glade,
And sometimes in thy flames the tulip dies;
And the narcissus, like a beggar crouched,
Thou dost ennoble with thy crowns of gold;
Yet, ’tis their voices and their tongues that praise
With melody, thy name in woodland glades.
Yea, from the very seeds thy praises rise;
And the spring’s tender nurslings speak thy name.
The living and the dead recount thy praise,
The fount, from which the light of living streams;
No man can worthily extol thy name.
Sing then thyself, the glory that is thine;
Who art the only power that at a word
Didst call into existence heaven and earth.
The breezes of the west did softly blow
Where solid land and ocean were to be.
And, as thy simple fiat sounded forth,
The earth was fashioned and the world was framed.
’Tis thou that gavest her station to the earth,
Thou madest hidden treasures in the hills.
Thou sendest down thy rain-drops on the dust;
Refreshing all the leafage of the plants.
Thou didst unite the earthly elements
And raise the arches of the firmament.
And yoke the four refractory winds of heaven;
The great world-dragon is thy talisman.
The stream of life to all things didst thou yield;
To snake and ant alike thou givest meat;
And the earth’s treasures by thy grace are known,
And by thy grace are all things possible.
Upon the page of night, with master hand,
The shining precepts of thy law are writ.
And gloriously emblazoned by the signs
And letters of the azure firmament.
For wisdom of Bismillah is the B,
As Allah is great nature’s origin.
Next comes the spirit of the universe;
Our Scripture is the mother of all books,
And on its page is written plain to see,
“He in the heavens has made himself a throne.”
And under it the scribe Almighty wrote
The verses that depict the holiest throne.
Next the seven heavens in order he described;
In the first chapter of Alcoran’s scroll.
The sea and land are separated there,
And holy Scripture was the volume named.
Then did he write those jewels of the world,
The Proofs, the Ordinances, and the Laws.
In the last chapter did he treat of man,
And so the sacred record was complete.

III

AN ADDRESS TO GOD’S MUNIFICENCE, HOLINESS AND PURITY

Thou art the Maker, both of man and beast,
Body and life, thou gavest unto both.
Yet gavest man the attributes distinct
Of beauty, and of intellectual light.
Thou madest the face of man to be a glass,
To mirror all thy beauty’s radiance;
And as thy sun-like beauty shot its rays,
So beauty in the beautiful is praised.
In beauteous calm thou gleamest over all;
Where’er I gaze, thy splendor I behold;
And not a landscape owns a single charm
But what thy shining beauty yields to it.
Oh thou omnipotent, a pinch of dust
Thou turnest to the splendor of the world.
And a friend’s face becomes a face of fire,
For there thy well-loved light is shining out.
Thou to the fair dost give the radiant cheek,
To those in love the light step of the dance.
Thou makest wave the locks of Medschnuus,
And every hair becomes a snare of love.
Yet all this beauty flows again to thee;
And every beauteous look reflects thy face;
And in the eyes of lovers, thou dost see
Naught but thine own perfection in a glass.
Beloved in thine own beauty’s radiance,
Art thou by all, as thou art meet to be.
And wheresoe’er thy beauty shall be seen,
The fame of thy great loveliness is loud.
But when thy glance serenely shines on men,
It makes the happiness of lovers full.
For thou alone on earth art harmony;
And aught beside is but an idle dream.
The world’s life is illusive, nothing more
Than the reflection on a mirror’s face;
Things are no more than words to being brought,
And names the sole realities of life.
The sun of beauty casts its light abroad,
And all it touches kindles into life.
Thy power astounds the human reason; makes
The mind to totter and the brain to reel.
No human wit thine essence comprehends;
Reason and intellect before it fail.
No man can grasp thy nature, nor can plumb
With intellectual glance thy truth’s abyss.
Men’s understanding is a cradle-child;
And only by thyself canst thou be known.
O God, I was conceived and born to sin,
And to the passion that degrades my soul;
Fast held, enamored by the beautiful,
Grief was my portion for my earliest years;
In empty brains did sensual longing burn,
And wine bedrenched me like an empty skin.
Eager I yielded to the goblet’s charm,
And lingered like a drunkard over cups;
Draught after draught, I took the ruddy wine,
And threw the pleas of virtue to the wind.
And all of life’s religion I renounced,
And turned from all devotion’s practices;
Yet what would profit oft-repeated prayer
To one like me who stand aloof from God?
If to the mosque I sometimes turn my way
’Tis only to behold the beauty there.
I lift mine hands in prayer toward the place
Where the fair women of the assembly sit.
Oft at the Portal Beautiful I wait,
To mask my sins by such religious guise.
Sad is the plight in which I find myself;
O Lord, forgive the evil I have done.
For under thy control, O Lord most high,
Are works of good and works of evil set.
Were it obedient for a thousand years,
The world could never see thee as thou art
And sins committed for a thousand years
Could not impair one jot thy worthiness.
And I, who can do nothing of myself,
How could I, Lord, obedient prove to thee
Yet in thy unity do I believe,
And with a heart sincere observe thy law.
Show me the pathway of the unity,
That in it I may lead myself aright.
Grant that mine eyes may still reflect thy face;
My heart receive the light thy knowledge yields.
Leave not my soul in darkness absolute,
But cast the light of grace upon my path.
Drive from my breast the instincts that degrade,
And fill it with the radiance of thy love.
Oh, make mine eyes reflect thee constantly;
My tongue forever speak of thee alone;
My heart be filled with love of thee, and lit
With all the splendor of thy unity.
Let me behold thy secret state unveiled,
And manifest to me thyself alone.
For why should human glances seek the light
And turn toward the countenance of God?
Make me with wine of love inebriate,
And of my nothingness, thy creature form.
I call for the delirium of love;
And naught but thee, Jehovah, do I seek.
Therefore the name of God is on my lips;
And still I cry, “There is no god but God.”
I care not that my soul perdition see
So long as I behold the great Amen.
Grant only that my soul be filled with truth.
And my heart led along the path of light.
Sincerity my rule I do ordain,
And gratitude the watchword of my life.
Of secret falsehoods shall my heart beware;
Of pride and rancor’s desolating flame.
Oh, change my being; open wide to me,
Poor as I am, the treasury of thy grace,
And quench the flame of anger in my soul.
Kill in me avarice, and concupiscence;
Let pleasure never dominate my life,
Nor chastity be wanting in my heart.
Inflame me not with wrath’s pernicious fire,
But quench it in the steady stream of thought.
Send me not forth on paths of cruelty
And give thy justice to direct the world.
Make truthfulness my guardian; and let me see
The dear Kaaba stone of my desire.
Contentment be my storehouse as I haste
Upon my journey to the wished-for land,
And when the vision dawns upon my sight,
Grant that I never more may leave thy law.
Grant that my habits ne’er may master me,
But custom ever change at my command.
May I be ne’er abandoned by thy grace,
May my obedience ever perfect be;
And bend my wishes to the mood of prayer,
That they may burst in flowers of happiness.
Cast, when I kneel, my intellect to earth,
That thus my prayer may never be disturbed.
When I am set on honor’s lofty seat,
Give me the strength to bear prosperity.
Keep me untainted by hypocrisy,
And in thy service make my mind sincere.
Grant daily growth to my obedience,
May it be nourished on the Prophet’s lore,
And let my tongue flow ever in thy praise.

IV

HYMN OF PRAISE TO THE LORD OF LORDS, TO THE GLORY OF HIS CREATURES, AND TO THE PROPHETS

He, the first cause of all created things;
The bloom of planetary elements;
In all the treasures of his mighty heart,
Is the great light that lights existences;
And in the order of celestial things
He is the circle’s first and utmost line;
And he, the all-respected, all-beloved,
Mahomet, Mustapha, and Mahmoud named,
Sprung from the house of Haschim, Koreish’ stem,
First published to the world the Monuments.
From out God’s secret treasure-house he came,
Like to the light of morning in the East,
To be on earth the prophets’ guide, to be
The great director of the pure in heart.
When on the world his features cease to shine,
It seems as if the sun was veiled in heaven;
And when his grandeur does not rear itself,
The very heavens no longer soar aloft.
Without the shadow of his mightiness,
The throne itself would totter in decay.
When he is wroth, he in confusion throws
The water’s torrent and the dust of earth;
His dazzling existence could not fail,
But both the worlds of heaven and earth were gone.
The world and all therein exist for him;
Angels and men and demons of the air;
And the nine heavens their being owe to him;
For him the heavens their revelations make;
He is the world’s foundation, cause, and end,
And he preserves the beauty of the world.
His law remains the age’s guiding light;
And in his countenance does Allah shine.
Mankind in guilt and dire perplexity
Had wandered blindly from the way of truth.
Until the loving-kindness of his law
Recovered them, and brought them to the path,
Before the splendor of his law arose,
The human race was separate from God.
Mahomet showed the path that led to God;
He was the polestar in the arch of night;
The leader of the pilgrims on their way;
The refuge of the rulers of the world:
For when Mahomet on the earth appeared,
He shone the candle of intelligence.
Mahomet, called the prophets’ prince to be,
Was first in excellence of holiness.
Mahomet rules the future of the world;
In him existence is not bound by space;
Mahomet is the source of light to all;
The guide and guardian of the universe.
Adam was once the glory of the world,
But he is Adam’s greater counterpart.
’Twas he that rescued Noah from the flood;
And so preserved the good of all the earth.
Enoch ascended into paradise,
But he, an earthly creature, mounted heaven.
While Abraham was eminent for love,
Mahomet only keeps the throne of love.
And while on Sinai does Moses stand,
Mahomet holds the highest place in heaven.
’Tis true that Jesus waked the dead to life;
Life to the dust was by Mahomet given.
Though Joseph was of comely countenance,
Mahomet is the Saviour beautiful.
God to King Solomon great wisdom gave,
The prophet’s wisdom was Mahomet’s dower.
Though David was God’s caliph on the earth,
Truth in Mahomet is epitomized.
Endless the pomp of his nobility,
And endless is his honor and his power.
When to his mighty power he gave free course,
He ripped the curtain of the moon apart.
And see what mighty miracles he wrought;
“I have been poisoned,” said the lamb to him.
Like the dim cypress that in summer springs,
He cast no shadow on the ground he trod;
But light invested him from head to foot,
And people saw his pathway shadowless.
Shadows from out the realm of darkness come,
And never shadow yet has beamed with light.
Yon full-orbed moon casts light, not shadow down,
Yet on the cornfields flings the shadowed trees.
So like a shade-tent did the people cast
Their shadows on him in the sunlight clear.
His beauteous eye, the window of his soul,
Was raven black amid the dazzling light.
He saw, at once, in all directions, all,
Before, behind him, near him, or far off.
For in that eye was light as sunbeam clear,
And by it was the sun itself eclipsed.
Vain were it all his miracles to count,
Though I should labor to the judgment day;
Though I should speak them with a thousand tongues,
Ten thousand yet unsung I should omit.
Only his passage to the highest heaven
Can yield full witness of his excellence.

V

HOW HE, THE MASTER OF BOTH WORLDS, ON THE NIGHT OF HIS CELESTIAL JOURNEY ROSE FROM THE BOSOM OF THE EARTHLY MULTITUDE TO THE SUMMIT OF THE DIVINE UNITY

’Twas night, and yet, as in the light of day,
The earth lay bathed in splendor brilliant.
For like a company of princes ranged
The happy stars were shining overhead.
And the full moon her silver radiance poured;
’Twas the great feast time of the Ramazan.
On such a night the moon was throned in heaven
Above the thousand star specks of the world;
A queen surrounded by nobility.
His house was flooded by the moonlight clear.
And from the moon, now fourteen nights in orb,
Came Gabriel, the messenger of heaven.
He said: “Oh thou who like the moon on earth,
And like the sun in purity of light
Art eminent, and lord of honors here,
Accept the thousand greetings that I bring,
For with this greeting God a summons sends,
To the enjoyment of his majesty.
This journey, then, with longing keen begin,
For the All-Wise desires thee at his side.
Forsake the crowd to meet the unity
And taste the presence of all purity.
The angels all are ranked below thy seat,
Thou art the princely ruler of the heavens.”
As Ahmed listened to the messenger
He praised the Lord of heaven with fervent prayer.
Calmly he mounted on the cherubim,
And rose in haste toward his celestial friends.
He moved like some fresh morning wind that blows,
Toward the sanctuary of Zion’s hill.
Soon he, the master of all grace, arrived;
And, as the leader of the spirits pure,
He stood in heaven, and through the stars he passed,
While constellations honored his approach.
As in the primal heaven he sat enthroned,
The moon was waxing to her fullest orb.
With deep obeisance did the queen of night
Welcome the visit of the prophet form.
Thence to the second heaven he bent his way;
The heaven of Mercury blessed him as he came.
There on heaven’s page were pointed out to him
The dazzling wonders of creation’s work.
To the third heaven at last he soared aloft,
And Venus welcomed him with kindly grace.
Deep bliss his ardent breast with rapture filled,
As lutes of love their dulcet notes resound.
In the fourth heaven o’er radiant meads he trod,
His shadow lent a lustre to the sun.
Peacefully fell that shadow on the star,
Filling with light the spot that welcomed it.
At the fifth heaven he glanced, and lo! he saw
That Mars had drawn his falchion, full of fear,
Yet with submissiveness the man of God
He welcomed, greeting with obeisance due.
On the sixth throne elate sat Jupiter,
Once happy, festive, lord of heaven and earth.
By him the Prophet was received with smiles
And prospered on his way with happiness.
Saturn, the ruler of the seventh ring,
Received him in the circle of his light.
“I come,” the Prophet said, “from dark to light;
Repulse me not, I pray thee, from thy door.”
Thence he ascended by the sunlit path,
To that clear region where the stars are fixed,
And in the radiance of his approach,
Great joy was caused through all the region high.
And as his gracious shadow there was cast,
He found himself upon the meadow plain,
Whose carpet spreads before the throne of God.
And he who was the first in highest heaven,
Heard in that radiant place a voice, that cried,
“Oh, tread my plains, for in thy steps is peace.”
O’er the whole region did he wend his way
And stood at last before the Tree of Life.
Before the Tree of Life he paused a while;
For there his guide had bidden him to repose.
Thence to the throne of his dear God he passed,
The God unlimited by time or space.
All the dark memories of the world were lost,
For there the light of the one God beamed forth.
And there he took his station next to God,
Higher than prophet or than seraphim.
His inmost soul was lost in ecstasy.
For God within that circle sole exists;
God infinite and absolute is there,
In the full splendor of his attributes.
There is the light of life divine revealed,
Clear as a spotless diamond in heaven.
There saw he what no eye before had seen,
And heard what yet had reached no human ear.
For speech in heaven is wordless, and the heart
Speaks out aloud, yet with no uttered sound.
From thence he was permitted to return
To the waste hill land of his native home.
He traversed heaven and blessed it with his face,
Returning on his way to earth again.
And when he reached his couch, he found that all
That boundless journey through the infinite
Had happened in the twinkling of an eye.
The prophets greeted him with loud acclaim,
And spread the joyous news of his return,
And all who heard it, turned their minds to God.
All were transported with celestial joy.
All rendered thanks of gratitude to Heaven.
The hearts and souls of all were filled with light,
Plunged at the moment in the Sea of Truth.

VI

A BLESSING ON THE PROPHETS, THE MEDIATORS OF THE PEOPLE, WITH A PRAYER OF INTERCESSION AND A GREETING TO HIS COMPANIONS

All hail to thee, thou messenger of God!
My heart goes out to thee, and ye, who stand
As mediators in the path of truth,
Weigh well the good and evil of the heart.
Prophet, my spirit is with rapture filled.
Be gracious to me, listen to my cry,
For when thou pleadest for sinners all the band
Of followers pay their homage at thy feet.
For in the bygone days there was revealed
A rule of right and wrong, and in the scale
Of justice all was cast. The world for thee
Has hoped, O mediator, all the world.
Become thou, then, a mediator for me,
And make me with the peace of Eden blest.
Why fear I when my guilt is infinite,
If infinite the grace that thou canst give?
For my infirmities are without bound,
And in transgression am I swallowed up.
My sins, my sins are multitudinous
And I have failed to see the end of God.
Now at thy footstool do I prostrate lie,
I touch thy hands, I supplicate thy face,
For if thy kindness will not intercede
What is the intercession of this sigh?
And if thy tenderness refuse support
My soul must wander in the maze of grief,
And yet I hope thy interceding prayer
Will win some respite to my tortured soul;
And I call myriad blessings on thy head
And upon all who follow in thy train,
On all who travel on the path of good;
To all the leaders of the saintly band;
On those the four elect ones, on all friends;
On the primordial powers of either world.
Upon the sovereign king of wisdom’s realm,
On Ebubeker, who is lord of truth,
Then upon him who is the one just lord,
Omer, the noblest, purest among men;
Next upon him, the Koran’s faithful scribe,
Upon the lordly Osman, Haffan’s son;
On Ali, friend of me and friend of all;
To whom all realms of knowledge were revealed.
Next on the pair, for whom my vision thirsts--
On Hassan and on Huscin, princes both,
Noblest in purpose and in dignity;
On Omar, Hamsa, Abbas, whom I greet,
With myriad salutations, while I lay
A thousand gratulations at their feet.

VII

WHAT WAS THE OCCASION OF THIS POEM AND THE ARRANGEMENT OF THE NARRATIVE

Upon a morn, a glorious morn of June,
When eastern light, with many colored charm,
Tinted the gentle birth throes of the year;
And streams with ardent longing ran their race,
And cloudless azure floated o’er the world,
The rose and tulip oped their petals wide,
Within a garden fair as paradise,
Where sand and soil were clothed in dazzling green.
All earth was blushing in the morning ray,
As if a second Eden had arisen.
The tulips ranged along the mountain walls,
Held up their chalices with eager hands.
And all the flowers were waking out of sleep,
And day was changing watch with vanished night.
Narcissus flowers had filled their golden cups,
Stanching their thirst in draughts of diamond dew.
Each rose within the garden seemed a king,
And every floweret was a belted knight.
The nightingales were sighing in the grove,
And deep delight the stream and forest filled.
The cypresses were bending in their dance,
And all the world was radiant with joy.
Within the garden stood a company
Of friends, on joy and recreation bent;
For great and small, either by night or day,
In pleasure banquets to that garden came.
But I within the wood remained aloof,
And wandered, lost in solitary thought.
Then came to me a man of a refined
And gentle aspect, and of noble race.
For many a year this friend of mine had laughed
And wept with me, in pleasure or in pain.
Then said he, “Friend of mine, arouse thyself.”
Nor dally here in listless indolence,
For spring has tinted bright the dewy world,
And God’s enchantments fill the garden glade;
On the world’s leaf he writes the message clear:
“Oh, come and see God’s monument on earth!
Why tarriest thou? Behold this circling realm!
How beautiful is earth--’tis paradise.
For vernal life revives the blooming year,
And if thou live the thought must raise thy heart.”
I, as I heard these pleadings of my friend,
By his benignant influence was swayed.
Into the garden as he led the way,
I entered; there a grove of roses stood.
We crossed a level area, where we saw
The scene adorned with flowering elder-trees.
The place was noble, for the hillside shone
With the fresh loveliness of Eden’s bower.
Such scenes unlock the heart and make it glad,
And over all they spread the balm of peace.
The fresh blown roses hung on every side;
From every copse the nightingales were heard.
And in this place of beauty marvellous
A thousand words passed swift ’twixt friend and friend,
And kindly greetings rose, and hearts were soothed
With genial conversation; poesy
Lent to the converse of the band her charm,
And prose and verse alternately they quote;
Mesnevi’s tale was subject of debate;
And meaning and expression were discussed.
Then with my friend I held a colloquy;
And, in a kindly mood, he said to me;
“The nightingale is singing loud to-day,
And thou, whose heart is drinking in delight
From the soul utterance of the nightingale,
How comes it thou art silent in the world?
Thy breath and utterance should impart new life;
Thy word give healing, from thy mouth should come
The stream that yields refreshment unto men.
Why art thou dumb and lifeless; without song?
Write thou a volume with poetic grace
Replete, and show the compass of thy power;
God gave to thee the poet’s destiny.
Whence is thy mood of careless indolence?
He in whom mind is more than fleshly might
Alone can frame a song that moves the heart.
Write, then, a book which shall transmit thy name
Down to the records of remotest time.
For certainly, the name of him whose mind
Dwells on the beautiful shall never die.”
Now as I listened to this kind advice,
A keen ambition seized upon my soul.
I answered: “Friend, thy counsel I approve;
Thy words have made me opulent in soul;
I lend my ear to all that thou hast said,
For he who would gainsay thee is a fool.
But, though with ample skill and wit enough
I might a book in one short week compose,
The world would scorn imagination’s work,
Although my power of utterance be supreme.”
Then all the circle to my plea demurred,
Laying a thousand fetters on my heart.
“But,” I continued, “’tis for daily bread
We toil, and scarce the pen can meet the need;
When with my brain as pilot I proceed,
A thousand cares for corporal wants molest;
Entangled thus, invention fails my mind,
And all my spirit’s best emotions die.”
“Stay,” said my friend, “this argument is vain,
Vain are these timid pretexts. Courage take.
Is not the nightingale in prison bars
Forever wont to pour her dolorous chant?
And in its cage the cheerful popinjay
Learns to repeat the words of human folk,
And chatters with untiring gaiety,
And warbles in a rapture of delight.”
“My friend,” I answered, “in these times of ours
The world is nothing but the slave of gold;
Honor and office is the aim of all,
While merit follows like a slave on foot.
How sordid is the spirit of the world!
True fame alone from generous wisdom springs.
Where can we find the scholar exquisite?
Alas! the world is full of ignorance;
Who cares to-day for books of verse or prose?
Who dares to tread the path of poetry?
There may be magic in the song you sing,
But the dull world is dull to every note.”
He answered: “What does all this babbling mean?
No man of purpose can this plea allow.
Think’st thou the world as empty as thou say’st?
Leave off repining, and, with courage bold,
If thou hast jewels, bring them to the mart;
The buyer is not difficult to find.
If thou hast merit wherefore this delay?
How canst thou heedless waste the fleeting hour?
Merit will always win the praise of men.
But bring thy beauty boldly into view.
The Shah will first of all make recompense;
He knows to treasure up the worth of words;
A critic he, in poetry and prose,
Expert, munificent as well as wise.
To him thy poem must thou dedicate,
Thy poem rare and writ in double rhyme.
And in this work thy name along with his
Shall live unto the very judgment day.”
Soon as the Shah was named, I felt in vain
Were all excuses, and I answered him:
“Friend of my soul, I will the work begin.
I swear it on my head, this very day!
Yet in what style shall it accomplished be?
That I may execute a splendid work.”
He said: “My dearest friend, what other theme
But the rose legend can suffice for thee?
The legend of the beauty of the rose,
The legend of the lover nightingale.
Tell us the lot, the plight of bird and flower,
And all they did and were; set this to rhyme
In that fine book of thine, and with the skill
Of thine unerring genius, tell the tale.”
Moved by these words, I took my pen in hand
And went with eager longing to the task.
The legend of the nightingale I wrote,
And dedicated it to him who rules
The land, and with the Shah’s name in the front
I made a book that all the world has praised.

VIII

PRAISE OF THE PEARL OF LORDSHIP, THE HEAVEN-GREAT PRINCE, WHOSE PITY AND WHOSE PURPOSE EXTEND FROM HEAVEN TO EARTH

The Shah, our heavenly highness and our king,
Is as an angel or a Jupiter;
Face of the moon and beauty of the sun
Are his; his fortune and his blood are peers.
A prince is he of high and happy line,
Of fair renown and intellectual power.
The very glory of the Osman house,
Elected as the Sultan of the land,
Is Shah Mustapha Ben Suleiman, born
A very shah from royal ancestors.
He is the man, who by his skill to guide,
Has filled the earth, the age, with happiness.
Worth is alone the banner and the crown
Which win, by merit, throne and diadem.
Worthy successor of the Osman kings
Among the sultans, like a monument
He stands, a sun of bright prosperity.
Shah of the moon and mirror of success.
He in the shining jewel case of bliss
We style the pearl of lofty destinies,
A shah who is so filled with rectitude,
That he is the Nuschernan of his time;
So brilliant he in generosity
That he eclipses Hatim Tais’ renown.
His justice is the ruler of the world,
Which by his grace is nourished and upheld.
His righteous mind gives happiness to all,
His loving-kindness is their highest gain.
He visits with severity the bad,
But on the good he heaps his favors high.
And as he grace and wrath in men perceives
He takes the goblet or he draws the sword.
He is a hero of full gallant mien,
Whose aspect is the dread of Rusteman.
As blows across the mead the autumn breeze
And the reeds quake, so quake the hearts of foes.
When Gog and Magog thunder forth their threats
Their vanquished power is driven back again;
And when the lands with panic fear are struck,
The armies of the foe are trod in dust.
And Tahmas trembles at his gleaming sword
As Euas once before great Timur quailed.
The Persian’s head was ruddy with his gore;
No wine ran ever in a redder stream.
His royal heart had then divided cares,
To terrify his foes, and heal his friends.
Fear of the Shah dissolved the foeman’s rage,
His pity melted friendly hearts in love.
The fear of him made Rusteman grow weak,
And fly, with bloody spoils behind him trailed.
And while his loving-kindness calmed the world
He won the love alike of young and old.
And while his might and power waxed eminent
He brought the hearts of all to beat with his.
As the high cypress flings a shadow round,
His presence crushed in agony his foes;
Before his greatness and his loftiness,
The spirit of earth’s peoples ebbed away.
And were the doughty Dschemschid living yet,
He’d give himself in slavery to the Shah.
When Skender first his gleaming grandeur saw
He wished to be the slave of such a king.
Were Feridum to see his greatness now,
He would have promised fealty to his house.
And on his threshold Cæsar would have dropped,
Like to a slave, his laurel-covered sword.
O clemency, thou hast the whole round world
Led captive by thy rule of righteousness.
Through all thine age of sighs and bitter tears,
Thou only art beloved by night and day,
And in that age, great Alexander sees
The wolf and lamb together take their food.
No robber now in ambush waits to kill,
Our only ambush is in woman’s looks;
And no man beats his breast for grief and woe,
But beats a drum tap in the mood of joy.
How shall I estimate thy happy peace!
The happy splendor of thy sanctity!
Were all the trees and bushes turned to pens,
And every leaf were changed into a book,
And the seven seas were darkened into ink,
And every space was written o’er and o’er,
By thousand writers, only one exploit,
Out of one thousand, would recorded be.
And as we here would offer up our prayer,
Let our petition be on justice based.
For thou, as is the sun among the stars,
Art potentate o’er all the climes of heaven;
Sagacious Padishah and Lord of Light
Art thou; for wisdom has enthroned thee Shah.
May God decree full length of years to thee,
And bring a just dishonor on thy foes.
Thee may God’s grace conduct to happiness;
And fill the earth with thy transcendent name.
Long mayst thou wear the crown upon thy brow,
And may thine enemies be brought to naught.
God grant long life to all the royal house
And give the land joy, rain, and industry.
May age and peace and happiness arrive,
And all thy reign with endless glory shine.
Who to this prayer of mine responds Amen
May no misfortune ever plague his life!

IX

THE BEGINNING OF THE FASCINATING NARRATIVE AND OF THE HEART-RAVISHING FABLE

Speak, Nightingale, thy accents utter clear,
And from thy secret haunt reveal thyself;
Thou knowest full well the meaning that lies hid
Within the rose-bed of the inmost mind.
Long hast thou tarried, silent as a bud;
Breathe out the meditation of the Rose,
Let thy voice warble in the voice of love
A song instinct with love’s own melody.
So sweet that Sohre, when thy lay is heard,
The lute shall fling in anger to the ground.
And thus the Nightingale in Gulistan
Began, with song, her legendary tale.
Once, in the ancient days that long are past,
Over a country pleasant above all,
There lived a shah, the reigning king of Kum,
And he was gracious, mild, and liberal.
Good fortune followed every step he took;
And he was fair in manner as in face.
In every action was he moderate;
And all his deeds were welcome to the folk.
Pure was his mind, his lineage starred by fame;
He drew all hearts by ruth and tenderness;
He was a monarch of a high descent;
They named him Springtime, for his look was spring.
The earth he cheered, as if with vernal showers,
His presence was a breath of paradise;
Far famed for grandeur and for graciousness,
For strictest justice bore he wide renown.
His sovereign word flew wider than the wind,
And poured its torrents like a foaming stream,
Refreshing by its very righteousness,
Like balmy eastern breezes, earth and time.
For when he spoke, men heard no other sound,
But his. So sang the happy Nightingale.
And no man from the scabbard drew his sword;
Even the sword-lily vanished from the heath;
And never pointed weapon made a wound,
Except the thorns that pierce the bulbul’s breast.
And not a crown was ravished against right;
And the east wind the tulip’s circlet spared.
Though earth were mantled with a host of green,
A leafy company that none may count,
’Twere easier far to number forest leaves
Than count the flowers that in his palace grew.
Like to a guard-troop, helmeted with gold,
Narcissus flowers were ranged in countless bands;
With lips and beakers blushing ruby red,
The lovely flowers as cup-bearers attend;
The lilies stand full-armed like sentinels,
Mail clad in steely green, with flashing sword.
There many cypresses toss high their heads,
And verdant banners thickly cover them.
From the high walls a shower of thorns is shot,
As lances hurtle, and lay lions low.
Ambassadors in crowds, from east and west,
Bring crowns to him, and eager tribute yield--
Jewels that blaze like planets of the sky,
And gems the prize of fortune’s brightest hour.
Within his grove he has a stately rose.
The grace of God is watching over it;
And he is happy in a daughter fair,
Who, like the rose-bush, beautifies the world.
Her name is Rose, though she is still a bud--
A bud in beauty’s garden fresh as morn:
Round were these buds, like ruddy lips that called
For kisses with a passionate desire;
Such was the beauty that belonged to them,
That all the world enamored gazed on them.

X

DESCRIPTION OF THE ROSE’S BEAUTY IN EVERY MEMBER