Part 5

Fools laud and magnify the mosque, While they strive to oppress holy men of heart. But the former is mere form, the latter spirit and truth. The only true mosque is that in the hearts of saints. The mosque that is built in the hearts of the saints Is the place of worship of all, for God dwells there. So long as the hearts of the saints are not afflicted. God never destroys the nation.

"IGNORANCE"

Blood is impure, yet its stain is removed by water; But that impurity of ignorance is more lasting, Seeing that without the blessed water of God It is not banished from the man who is subject to it. O that thou wouldst turn thy face to thy own prayers, And say, "Ah! my prayers are as defective as my being; O requite me good for evil!"

A PRAYER

"Pray in this wise and allay your difficulties: 'Give us good in the house of our present world, And give us good in the house of our next world. Make our path pleasant as a garden, And be Thou, O Holy One, our goal!'"

ALL RELIGIONS ARE ONE

In the adorations and benedictions of righteous men The praises of all the prophets are kneaded together. All their praises are mingled into one stream, All the vessels are emptied into one ewer. Because He that is praised is, in fact, only One. In this respect all religions are only one religion. Because all praises are directed towards God's Light, These various forms and figures are borrowed from it.

[Footnote 1: The night of his marriage with Safiyya.]

[Footnote 2: See _Rubáiyát_ of Omar Khayyám, translated by Edward FitzGerald, second edition, quatrain lxx.]

[Footnote 3: "Form" here is used rather as soul, the love behind the decaying body.]

[Footnote 4: Joseph, a name frequently used by Persian poets, irrespective of gender, to symbolise the ideal type of human beauty.]

[Footnote 5: Earthly love.]

[Footnote 6: Koran.]

[Footnote 7: The meaning of this poem is strictly allegorical. We must not infer that the All-Good would be a party to the evil designs of the Devil. No material gifts, however seductive, could succeed in stamping out the Divine Presence in His Creatures.]

[Footnote 8: At first sight there seems to be Omarian pessimism in this poem. In reality it signifies that all Love is One, which shines through the ever-vanishing lanterns of the world.]

APPENDIX: A NOTE ON PERSIAN POETRY

NĪZAMĪ'S DISCOURSE ON POETRY

In Nīzamī's _The Chahár Magála_ ("Four Discourses"), translated by Professor Edward G. Browne, we find the _Second Discourse_ devoted to "The Nature of Poetry, and the Utility of the Skilful Poet." In this interesting Discourse Nīzamī very amiably discusses the training required to become a poet of enduring fame, and intersperses these remarks with a number of anecdotes, which in the main are examples of the advantages derived from poetic improvisations given at opportune moments before kings when wine has gone round two or three times. Nīzamī sums up the nature of poetry in the following words: "Poetry is that art whereby the poet arranges imaginary propositions and adapts the deductions, with the result that he can make a little thing appear great and a great thing small, or cause good to appear in the garb of evil and evil in the garb of good." Nīzamī denounces the habit of giving money to old poets. He remarks: "For one so ignoble as not to have discovered in fifty years that what he writes is bad, when will he discover it?" On the other hand Nīzamī favours the young poet with hopeful talent, and generously remarks that "it is proper to patronise him, a duty to take care of him, and an obligation to maintain him." The minor poets of to-day have not these glowing advantages!

The most ingenious example of a poetic improvisation in this _Discourse_ is, perhaps, one given by Rúdagí in connection with the protracted stay of Amír Nasr b. Ahmad in Herát. Four years the Amír camped with his army in this town, with its twenty different varieties of grape and beautiful narcissus. "He preferred Herát to the Garden of Eden." But at length the Amír's captains and courtiers grew weary of being absent so long from Bukhárá, where they longed to see their wives and children again. They offered Rúdagí, the poet, five thousand dinars if he could persuade the Amír to quit Herát and return to Bukhárá. Rúdagí, at an opportune moment, took up his harp and sang the following song to the Amír:

The sands of Oxus, toilsome though they be, Beneath my feet were soft as silk to me. Glad at the friend's return, the Oxus deep Up to our girths in laughing waves shall leap. Long live Bukhárá! Be thou of good cheer! Joyous towards thee hasteth our Amír! The Moon's the Prince, Bukhárá, is the sky; O sky, the Moon shall light thee by and bye! Bukhárá, is the mead, the Cypress he; Receive at last, O Mead, thy Cypress-tree!

This particular Amír seems to have been fond of flattery, and he found the daintily turned song of Rúdagí more acceptable to his vanity than even the beauty of Herát. He accordingly took his departure immediately the song had concluded, and, in his absent-mindedness, forgot to put on his boots, which were carried by an attendant who rode in hot pursuit.

Poetry in those days was evidently a remunerative pursuit. Nīzamī tells us that Khidr Khán always had in readiness four trays of gold. "These he used to dispense by the handful" to the successful poets. Though the royal favour towards the poets was extremely bountiful, Persian poets were not always particularly courteous the one to the other. Nīzamī tells an amusing story of a minor poet named Rashídí. At the king's command the Poet-Laureate was asked to express his opinion of Rashídí's poetry. The Poet-Laureate accordingly remarked: "His verse is extremely good and chaste and correct, but it wants spice." The king afterwards repeated these words to Rashídí and bade him compose a fitting rejoinder. Rashídí composed the following verse:

You stigmatise my verse as "wanting spice," And possibly, my friend, you may be right. My verse is honey-flavoured, sugar-sweet, And spice with such could scarcely cause delight. Spice is for you, you blackguard, not for me, For beans and turnips is the stuff you write!

This was not kind; but Rashídí received all four baskets of gold that day!

The technical study of prosody was instituted by Khalil ibn i Ahmad i Bicrí. He is said to have discovered this science by listening to the rythmic beats of the fuller's mallets upon his clothes. This story is mentioned in Saifi's _Treatise on Prosody_.[1]

Much of Persian poetry is conventional, and the demarcation in style, due to the various phases of Persian history, is not as pronounced as might be expected. The Persian poets not only conservatively followed old metres, but old similes, old subjects as well. It was with words they were most concerned, and not with ideas. The _Lover's Companion_ of Sharafu'd-Dín Rámí is sufficient to prove this. The book contains a very large number of similes on the various parts of the body. This was intended to be a _vade mecum_ to the writer of erotic poetry. Professor Brown defends this conservatism and remarks that it has "guarded the Persian language from the vulgarisation which the triumph of an untrained, untrammelled, and unconventional genius of the barbaric-degenerate type tends to produce in our own and other European tongues."

[Footnote 1: See _The Prosody of the Persians_. By H. Blockmann, Calcutta, 1872.]