Part 2
Then we watch the honeyed sweetness of Zulaikha's passion burst forth into bitter hate and shameless lying. We see the proud, chaste Yúsuf cast into prison on false pretences and quite melodramatically freed by the marvellous utterance of a babe at its mother's breast.[5] But Zulaikha finds the gossip of Memphis hard to be borne--the insinuations, the sneers, the cruel reproaches for the unrequited and ill-fated love of hers. Moreover, Zulaikha, like the women of Austria at the beginning of the eighteenth century,[6] had a husband as well as a lover, Potiphar, Grand Vizier of Egypt. These two concocted a scandalous story, which was easily set going and as easily believed by the common people. It resulted in Yúsuf being again sent to prison. At this point of the poem we are once more reminded of the Bible story of Joseph, for Jámí also mentions the interpretation of Pharaoh's dream, the release of the interpreter, and the unlimited power as the king's right hand that followed.
So we watch Yúsuf rise from slave to be the king's chief adviser, and in consequence the fall of the Grand Vizier and Zulaikha. The success of Yúsuf awakens little admiration. He is so far from being human that we should not have been very surprised if he had eaten one of the Pyramids.
But Zulaikha's condition is to be pitied. She is now a widow. Her jewels are gone, her dress is in rags, there are wrinkles in her once beautiful face, and her back is bent. But more than all these trials is the loss of her eyesight. We see her crouching in the road, listening eagerly for the sound of the coming of the proud Yúsuf on his wonderful steed,[7] happy to feel the dust of his passing procession. There is a note of real pathos in this scene. We see for the first time, perhaps, that Zulaikha's passion is changing into a fairer, nobler thing. Sometimes the boys who preceded Yúsuf would shout to her as she sat by her cottage of reeds, "Yúsuf is nigh!" But Zulaikha's heart, sore and hungry and yearning, knew better than they the approach of her lord. The eyes that had seen the Palace of Pleasure saw more now that they were blind! And yet the old passion had not quite burnt itself out. We see the bent form crouching on the ground, feeling the statue of her Yúsuf with her thin, trembling fingers, and piteously praying for some recognition.
The sound of Yúsuf's steed is heard in the distance, and a great shout rends the air: "Make room! Make room!" Zulaikha again crouches in the roadway. How long has she "made room" for the selfish and unfeeling ambitions of a man who was once her pampered slave! It is then, for the first time, that the soul of Zulaikha asserts itself and the mysticism of the poem becomes strongly evident. The material spell of a fleshly love is broken at last. In humility and absolute resignation Zulaikha shatters her once dear idol, destroys a sordid and hopeless dream. Her red rose of passion is turned into a white one, as she fervently cries:
O God, who lovest the humble, Thou To whom idols, their makers, their servants bow; 'Tis to the light which Thy splendour lends To the idol's face that its worshipper bends.
Still more triumphant are her words:
Glory to God! to a monarch's state He has cast the king from his glory down, And set on the head of a servant his crown.
These words sufficiently interest Yúsuf to ask, "Who is this bedeswoman?" and eventually to win an interview for the poor "Unpitied, forgotten, disgraced woman." Yúsuf does not proceed to moralise; but he does not dispense with frigid formalities beyond calling her Zulaikha and offering, in a studied kind of way, to do anything for her that she may desire. Zulaikha asks for beauty, youth, and the power to win his love. Yúsuf grants her first two wishes, and the decrepit old woman is changed into the ravishingly beautiful Zulaikha of eighteen. But Yúsuf,[8] cold even now, in silence turns in prayer to Heaven, and takes Gabriel's word rather than his own conviction that he is doing well to marry her at last.
Here the late Mr. Ralph Griffith's translation of _Yúsuf and Zulaikha_ ends, and the curious and farseeing might be pardoned for conjecturing an unhappy marriage under these remarkably one-sided circumstances. But in the original the poem does not end here. For the advantage of optimistic believers in marriage, I may add that these two people had an almost unending honeymoon. Remarkable as it may appear, Zulaikha actually became religious, for which altogether wonderful and unexpected event the now kindly Yúsuf built her a most beautiful House of Prayer. The canto entitled "The Longed-for Death" is a little disconcerting, perhaps, but we may reasonably suppose that Yúsuf became religious too, and was not in any way uncomplimentary to his beautiful bride. His death was well arranged, and he was shortly joined by the soul of Zulaikha.
This, then, is & brief sketch of _Yúsuf and Zulaikha_. Like _Salámán and Absál_ it is intended to reveal the beauty of the Beloved; that He can be only approached after much purification, when the physical form ceases to blind the soul's outlook, and only when we realise that passion is an idol that must be broken, and Love the pure Light that shines alone from Him.
V. THE "BAHÁRISTÁN," OR "ABODE OF SPRING"
The _Baháristán_, or "Abode of Spring," is admitted by Jámí to be an imitation of Sa'di's _Gulistán_, or "Rose Garden." The idea of arranging a book of verse and prose into a series of "Gardens" was a very beautiful one. Two other books compiled on similar lines are Sa'di's _Bústán_, or "Orchard," and the _Nigaristán_, or "Picture Gallery," by Mu'in-uddin Jawini, which appeared in 1334 A.D. Sir Edwin Arnold's _With Sa'di in a Garden_ gives the Westerner some idea of the beauty of Eastern gardens, and this particular garden is rendered all the more delectable because it holds a greater beauty than the loveliest garden, the Taj Mahal itself. Sir Edwin transfers Persian poetry to an Indian garden, which is not very dissimilar to the beautiful gardens of Shiraz. Professor A. V. Williams Jackson[9] describes the _Bagh-i-Takht_, "Garden of the Throne," thus: "Terrace rises above terrace, and fountain, channel, and stream pour their waters in cascades over slabs of marble into reservoirs faced with stone--the walks bordered with cypress and orange trees." It would be interesting to know if the terraces in any way corresponded with the idea of naming and numbering the "Gardens" in Jámí's _Baháristán._ A beautiful mosque, a bower of roses, running water; might not these things alone have suggested to the poet's mind "The pavilion of Excellency, Love, and Laughter?"
The _Baháristán_ has a distinct interest apart from its literary merit. It appears to have been written by Jámí for the instruction of his "darling and beloved son Ziá-uddin-Yúsuf." The poet-father goes on to say, "That young boys and inexperienced youths become very disheartened and unhappy when they receive instruction in idiomatic expressions they are not accustomed to." Although Jámí allowed his son to read the _Gulistán_, he evidently thought the last word had not yet been written in the interests of instructing the young, and thus conceived the idea of writing the _Baháristán_.
One is so apt to see printed requests in the public gardens of England that it seems a little ironical to come across the following in the literary "Gardens" of Jámí: "It is requested that the promenaders in these gardens--which contain no thorns to give offence, nor rubbish displayed for interested purposes,--walking through them with sympathetic steps and looking at them carefully, will bestow their good wishes, and rejoice with praise the gardener who has spent much trouble and great exertions in planning and cultivating these gardens." In regard to the statement that the _Gardens_ "contain no Thorns to give offence," I, for one, must beg to differ. One ugly weed there is which the gardener would have done well to destroy in his otherwise very beautiful garden.
The _Baháristán_ is divided into eight "Gardens." The _First_ deals with the sayings and doings of the saintly, wise, and those "who occupy the chief seats in the pavilion of Excellency." The _Second_ with philosophical subtleties. The _Third_ with Justice, Equity, Government, and Administration, and in general "to show the wisdom of Sultáns." The _Fourth_ with Liberality and Generosity. The _Fifth_ with Love. The _Sixth_ with "Blowing of the zephyrs of wit, and the breezes of jocular sallies, which cause the buds of the lips to laugh and the flowers of the hearts; to bloom." The _Seventh_ with a selection from the work of Persian poets. The _Eighth_, and last, with animal stories.
[Footnote 1: See Preface to _Lives of the Mystics_. By Nassan Lees. Calcutta, 1859.]
[Footnote 2: _The Persian Mystics_: Jalálu'd-Dín Rúmí. "Wisdom of the East" Series.]
[Footnote 3: See E. H. Whinfield's translation.]
[Footnote 4: _Gulshan-i-Raz_. Translated by E. H. Whinfield.]
[Footnote 5: Compare the miraculous speaking of the babe Jesus in a cave, mentioned in the New Testament Apocryphal Writings.]
[Footnote 6: See the Letters of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu.]
[Footnote 7: Compare Firdawsí's description of the horse Rakush in the _Shahnámá_. Also Kyrat, the wonderful steed of the bandit-poet, Kurroglou.]
[Footnote 8: Compare Rama's attitude after the destruction of Lanka.]
[Footnote 9: _Persia Past and Present. A Book of Travel and Research._]
SELECTIONS FROM "SALÁMÁN AND ABSÁL"
The guests have drunk the wine and are departed, Leaving their empty bowls behind--not one To carry on the revel, cup in hand! Up, Jámí, then! And whether lees or wine To offer--boldly offer it in thine! And yet, how long, Jámí, is this old house Stringing thy pearls upon a harp of song? Year after year striking up some new song, The breath of some old story? Life is gone, And yet the song is not the last; my soul Is spent--and still a story to be told! SALÁMÁN AND ABSÁL.
"THOU MOVEST UNDER ALL THE FORMS OF TRUTH"
O Thou, whose memory quickens lovers' souls, Whose fount of joy renews the lover's tongue, Thy shadow falls across the world, and they Bow down to it; and of the rich in beauty Thou art the riches that make lovers mad. Not till Thy secret beauty through the cheek Of Laila smite does she inflame Majnún, And not till Thou have sugar'd Shírín's lip The hearts of those two lovers fill with blood. For lov'd and lover are not but by Thee, Nor beauty; mortal beauty but the veil Thy heavenly hides behind, and from itself Feeds, and our hearts yearn after as a bride That glances past us veil'd--but even so As none the beauty from the veil may know. How long wilt Thou continue thus the world To cozen with the phantom of a veil From which Thou only peepest?--Time it is To unfold Thy perfect beauty. I would be Thy lover, and Thine only--I, mine eyes Seal'd in the light of Thee to all but Thee, Yea, in the revelation of Thyself Self-lost, and conscience-quit of good and evil. Thou movest under all the forms of truth, Under the forms of all created things; Look whence I will, still nothing I discern But Thee in all the universe.
"MAN'S PRIME DESIRE"
O thou whose wisdom is the rule of kings-- (Glory to God who gave it!)--answer me: Is any blessing better than a son? Man's prime desire; by which his name and he Shall live beyond himself; by whom his eyes Shine living, and his dust with roses blows; A foot for thee to stand on he shall be, A hand to stop thy falling; in his youth Thou shalt be young, and in his strength be strong; Sharp shall he be in battle as a sword, A cloud of arrows on the enemy's head; His voice shall cheer his friends to better plight, And turn the foeman's glory into flight.
LUST
Lust that makes blind the reason; lust that makes A devil's self seem angel to our eyes; A cataract that, carrying havoc with it, Confounds the prosperous house; a road of mire Where whoso falls he rises not again; A wine of which whoever tastes shall see Redemption's face no more--one little sip Of that delicious and unlawful drink, Making crave much, and hanging round the palate Till it become a ring to lead thee by (Putting the rope in a vain woman's hand), Till thou thyself go down the Way of Nothing.
THE BABY DARLING
As soon as she had opened eyes on him, She closed those eyes to all the world beside, And her soul crazed, a-doting on her jewel,-- Her jewel in a golden cradle set; Opening and shutting which her day's delight, To gaze upon his heart-inflaming cheek-- Upon the darling whom, could she, she would Have cradled as the baby of her eye. In rose and musk she wash'd him--to his lips Press'd the pure sugar from the honeycomb; And when, day over, she withdrew her milk, She made, and having laid him in, his bed, Burn'd all night like a taper o'er his head.
Then still as morning came, and as he grew, She dressed him like a little idol up; On with his robe--with fresh collyrium dew Touch'd his narcissus eyes--the musky locks Divided from his forehead--and embraced With gold and ruby girdle his fine waist.
"THE MOON AND ROSES"
Sat a lover solitary Self-discoursing in a corner, Passionate and ever-changing Invocation pouring out: Sometimes sun and moon; and sometimes Under hyacinth half-hidden Roses; or the lofty cypress, And the little weed below. Nightingaling thus a noodle Heard him, and, completely puzzled,-- "What!" quoth he, "and you, a lover, Raving not about your mistress, But about the moon and roses!"
Answer'd he: "O thou that aimest Wide of love, and lover's language Wholly misinterpreting; Sun and moon are but my lady's Self, as any lover knows; Hyacinth I said, and meant her Hair--her cheek was in the rose-- And I myself the wretched weed That in her cypress shadow grows."
THE WILES OF ABSÁL
Now from her hair would twine a musky chain, To bind his heart--now twist it into curls Nestling innumerable temptations; Doubled the darkness of her eyes with surma To make him lose his way, and over them Adorn'd the bows that were to shoot him then; Fresh rose, and then a grain of musk lay there, The bird of the beloved heart to snare. Now to the rose-leaf of her cheek would add, Now with a laugh would break the ruby seal That, lockt up pearl; or busied in the room Would smite her hand, perhaps--on that pretence To lift and show the silver in her sleeve; Or hastily rising, dash her golden anklets To draw the crowned head under her feet. Thus by innumerable bridal wiles She went about soliciting his eyes, Which she would scarce let lose her for a moment; For well she knew that mainly by the eye Love makes his sign, and by no other road Enters and takes possession of the heart.
LOVE'S EARTHLY WAY
Now when Salámán's heart turned to Absál, Her star was happy in the heavens--old Love Put forth afresh--Desire doubled his bond: And of the running time she watch'd an hour To creep into the mansion of her moon And satiate her soul upon his lips. And the hour came; she stole into his chamber-- Ran up to him, Life's offer in her hand-- And, falling like a shadow at his feet, She laid her face beneath. Salámán then With all the courtesies of princely grace Put forth his hand--he rais'd her in his arms-- He held her trembling there--and from that fount Drew first desire; then deeper from her lips, That, yielding, mutually drew from his A wine that ever drawn from never fail'd. So through the day--so through another still. The day became a seventh--the seventh a moon-- The moon a year--while they rejoiced together, Thinking their pleasure never was to end. But rolling Heaven whisper'd from his ambush, "So in my license is it not set down. Ah for the sweet societies I make At morning and before the nightfall break! Ah for that bliss that with the setting sun I mix, and, with his rising, all is done!"
REASON
Reason that rights the retrograde--completes The imperfect--reason that unites the knot; For reason is the fountain from of old From which the prophets drew, and none beside. Who boasts of other inspiration lies-- There are no other prophets than the wise.
THE MOON OF LOVE
O Shah, I am the slave of thy desire, Dust of thy throne, ascending foot am I; Whatever thou desirest I would do, But sicken of my own incompetence; Not in the hand of my infirmer will To carry into deed mine own desire. Time upon time I torture mine own soul, Devising liberation from the snare I languish in. But when upon that moon I _think_, my soul relapses; and when _look_-- I leave both worlds behind to follow her!
LOVE
Without my lover, Were my chamber Heaven's horizon, It were closer than an ant's eye; And the ant's eye wider were Than Heaven, my lover with me there!
MORTAL PARAMOUR
The Almighty hand that mix'd thy dust inscribed The character of wisdom on thy heart; O cleanse thy bosom of material form, And turn the mirror of the soul to spirit, Until it be with spirit all possest, Crown'd in the light of intellectual truth. O veil thine eyes from mortal paramour, And follow not her step! For what is she?-- What is she but a vice and a reproach, Her very garment-hem pollution! For such pollution madden not thine eyes, Waste not thy body's strength, nor taint thy soul, Nor set the body and the soul in strife! Supreme is thine original degree, Thy star upon the top of heaven; but lust Will fling it down even unto the dust!
THE DIVINE UNION
Whisper'd one to Wámik, "O thou Victim of the wound of Azra, What is it like, that a shadow Movest thou about in silence Meditating night and day?" Wámik answer'd, "Even this-- To fly with Azra to the desert: There by so remote a fountain That, whichever way one travell'd League on league, one yet should never, Never meet the face of man-- There to pitch my tent--for ever There to gaze on my Belovèd; Gaze, till gazing out of gazing Grew to being her I gaze on, She and I no more, but in one Undivided being blended. All that is not One must ever Suffer with the wound of absence; And whoever in Love's city Enters, finds but room for One, And but in Oneness Union."
"DO WELL"
Do well, that in thy turn well may betide thee; And turn from ill, that ill may turn beside thee.
THE MAGIC MIRROR
Then bade he bring a mirror that he had, A mirror, like the bosom of the wise, Reflecting all the world, and lifting up The veil from all its secret, good and evil. That mirror bade he bring, and, in its face Looking, beheld the face of his Desire, He saw those lovers in the solitude, Turn'd from the world, and all its ways and people, And looking only in each other's eyes, And never finding any sorrow there.
A LAMENT
O thou whose presence so long sooth'd my soul, Now burnt with thy remembrance! O so long The light that fed these eyes now dark with tears! O long, long home of love now lost for ever! We were together--that was all enough-- We two rejoicing in each other's eyes, Infinitely rejoicing--all the world Nothing to us, nor we to all the world: No road to reach us, nor an eye to watch-- All day we whisper'd in each other's ears, All night we slept in one another's arms-- All seem'd to our desire, as if the hand Of unjust Fortune were for once too short. O would to God that when I lit the pyre The flame had left thee living and me dead, Not living worse than dead, depriv'd of thee! O were I but with thee! at any cost Stript of this terrible self-solitude! O but with thee annihilation--lost, Or in eternal intercourse renew'd!
"THE HARVEST OF ETERNITY"
My son, the kingdom of the world is not Eternal, nor the sum of right desire! Make thou the faith-preserving intellect Thy counsellor; and considering to-day To-morrow's seed-field, ere that come to bear Sow with the harvest of eternity.
SELECTIONS FROM THE LÁWA'IH
Believe me, I am naught--yea, less than naught, By naught and less than naught what can be taught? I tell the mysteries of truth, but know Naught save the telling to this task I brought. LAWÁ'IH.
"DELIVER US FROM OURSELVES"
O God, deliver us from preoccupation with worldly vanities, and show us the nature of things "as they really are." Remove from our eyes the veil of ignorance, and show us things as they really are. Show not to us non-existence as existent, nor cast the veil of non-existence over the beauty of existence. Make this phenomenal world the mirror to reflect the manifestations of thy beauty, and not a veil to separate and repel us from Thee. Cause these unreal phenomena of the universe to be for us the sources of knowledge and insight, and not the cause of ignorance and blindness. Our alienation and severance from Thy beauty all proceed from ourselves. Deliver us from ourselves, and accord to us intimate knowledge of Thee.
"MAKE MY HEART PURE"
Make my heart pure, my soul from error free, Make tears and sighs my daily lot to be, And lead me on Thy road away from self, That lost to self I may approach to Thee!
Set enmity between the world and me, Make me averse from worldly company: From other objects turn away my heart, So that it is engrossed with love to Thee.
How were it, Lord, if Thou should'st set me free From error's grasp and cause me truth to see? Guebres[1] by scores Thou makest Musulmans, Why, then, not make a Musulman of me?
My lust for this world and the next efface, Grant me the crown of poverty and grace To be partaker in Thy mysteries, From paths that lead not towards Thee turn my face.
ONE HEART, ONE LOVE
O votary of earthly idols' fane, Why let these veils of flesh enwrap thy brain? 'Tis folly to pursue a host of loves; A single heart can but one love contain!
O thou whose heart is torn by lust for all, Yet vainly strives to burst these bonds of all, This "all" begets distraction of the heart: Give up thy heart to ONE and break with all.[2]
"THE ABSOLUTE BEAUTY"
The Absolute Beauty is the Divine Majesty endued with [the attributes of] power and bounty. Every beauty and perfection manifested in the theatre of the various grades of beings is a ray of His perfect beauty reflected therein. It is from these rays that exalted souls have received their impress of beauty and their quality of perfection. Whosoever is wise derives his wisdom from Divine wisdom.
"MY LOVE STOOD BY ME AT THE DAWN OF DAY"
My love stood by me at the dawn of day, And said, "To grief you make my heart a prey Whilst I am casting looks of love at you, Have you no shame to turn your eyes away?"
All my life long I tread love's path of pain, If peradventure "Union" I may gain. Better to catch one moment's glimpse of Thee Than earthly beauties' love through life retain.
GOD THE ONLY LOVE ETERNAL