Part 21
From Istambol's throne a mighty host to Iran guided I; Sunken deep in blood of shame I made the Golden Heads to lie. Glad the Slave, my resolution, lord of Egypt's realm became: Thus I raised my royal banner e'en as the Nine Heavens high. From the kingdom fair of 'Iraq to Hijaz these tidings sped, When I played the harp of Heavenly Aid at feast of victory. Through my saber Transoxania drowned was in a sea of blood; Emptied I of kuhl of Isfahan the adversary's eye. Flowed adown a River Amu from each foeman's every hair— Rolled the sweat of terror's fever—if I happed him to espy. Bishop-mated was the King of India by my Queenly troops, When I played the Chess of empire on the Board of sov'reignty. O Selimi, in thy name was struck the coinage of the world, When in crucible of Love Divine, like gold, that melted I.
—_Sultan Selim I._ (1512-1520).
GAZEL
My pain for thee balm in my sight resembles; Thy face's beam the clear moonlight resembles. Thy black hair spread across thy cheeks, the roses, O Liege, the garden's basil quite resembles. Beside thy lip oped wide its mouth, the rosebud; For shame it blushed, it blood outright resembles. Thy mouth, a casket fair of pearls and rubies, Thy teeth, pearls, thy lip coral bright resembles. Their diver I, each morning and each even; My weeping, Liege, the ocean's might resembles. Lest he seduce thee, this my dread and terror, That rival who Iblis in spite resembles. Around the taper bright, thy cheek, Muhibbi Turns, and the moth in his sad plight resembles.
—_Sultan Soleiman, the Magnificent_ (1520-1566).
GAZEL
If 'tis state thou seekest like the world-adorning sun's array, Lowly e'en as water rub thy face in earth's dust every day. Fair to see, but short enduring is this picture bright, the world; 'Tis a proverb: Fleeting like the realm of dreams is earth's display. Through the needle of its eyelash never hath the heart's thread past; Like unto the Lord Messiah bide I half-road on the way. Athlete of the Universe through self-reliance grows the Heart, With the ball, the Sphere—Time, Fortune—like an apple doth it play. Mukhlisi, thy frame was formed from but one drop, yet, wonder great! When thou verses sing'st, thy spirit like the ocean swells, they say.
—_Prince Mustafa._
GAZEL
Ta'en my sense and soul have those thy Leyli locks, thy glance's spell, Me, their Mejnun, 'midst of love's wild dreary desert they impel, Since mine eyes have seen the beauty of the Joseph of thy grace, Sense and heart have fall'n and lingered in thy chin's sweet dimple-well. Heart and soul of mine are broken through my passion for thy lips; From the hand of patience struck they honor's glass, to earth it fen. The mirage, thy lips, O sweetheart, that doth like to water show; For, through longing, making thirsty, vainly they my life dispel. Since Selimi hath the pearls, thy teeth, been praising, sense and heart Have his head and soul abandoned, plunging 'neath love's ocean-swell.
—_Sultan Selim II._ (1566-1574).
GAZEL
Thy veil raise, shake from cheeks those locks of thine then; Unclouded beauty's sun and moon bid shine then. But one glance from those soft and drooping eyes throw, The heart through joy to drunkenness consign then. Were I thy lip to suck, 'twould heal the sick heart; Be kind, an answer give, Physician mine, then. Beware lest evil glance thy beauty's rose smite, From ill-eyed rival careful it confine then. O heart, this is Life's Water 'midst of darkness, In night's gloom hidden, drink the ruby wine then. My love's down grows upon her rosy-hued cheek, A book write on the woes it does enshrine then. Thy wine-hued lip, O love, grant to Selimi— And by thy parting's shaft my tears make wine then.
—_Sultan Selim II._
GAZEL
Soon as I beheld thee, mazed and wildered grew my sad heart; How shall I my love disclose to thee who tyrant dread art? How shall I hold straight upon my road, when yonder Torment Smitten hath my breast with deadly wounds by her eyelash dart? Face, a rose; and mouth, a rosebud; form, a slender sapling— How shall I not be the slave of Princess such as thou art? Ne'er hath heart a beauty seen like her of graceful figure; Joyous would I for yon charmer's eyebrow with my life part. Farisi, what can I do but love that peerless beauty? Ah! this aged Sphere hath made me lover of yon sweetheart.
—_Sultan Osman II._ (1617-1623).
TO SULTAN MURAD IV.
Round us foes throng, host to aid us here in sad plight, is there none? In the cause of God to combat, chief of tried might, is there none? None who will checkmate the foe, Castle to Castle, face to face In the battle who will Queen-like guide the brave Knight, is there none? Midst a fearful whirlpool we are fallen helpless, send us aid! Us to rescue, a strong swimmer in our friends' sight, is there none? Midst the fight to be our comrade, head to give or heads to take, On the field of earth a hero of renown bright, is there none? Know we not wherefore in turning off our woes ye thus delay; Day of Reckoning, aye, and question of the poor's plight, is there none? With us 'midst the foeman's flaming streams of scorching fire to plunge, Salamander with experience of Fate dight, is there none? This our letter, to the court of Sultan Murad, quick to bear, Pigeon, rapid as the storm-wind in its swift flight, is there none?
—_Hafiz Pacha._
IN REPLY TO THE PRECEDING
To relieve Bagdad, O Hafiz, man of tried might, is there none? Aid from us thou seek'st, then with thee host of fame bright, is there none? "I'm the Queen the foe who'll checkmate," thus it was that thou didst say; Room for action now against him with the brave Knight, is there none? Though we know thou hast no rival in vainglorious, empty boasts, Yet to take dread vengeance on thee, say, a Judge right, is there none? While thou layest claim to manhood, whence this cowardice of thine? Thou art frightened, yet beside thee fearing no fight, is there none? Heedless of thy duty thou, the Rafizis have ta'en Bagdad; Shall not God thy foe be? Day of Reckoning, sure, right, is there none? They have wrecked Ebu-Hanifa's city through thy lack of care; Oh, in thee of Islam's and the Prophet's zeal, light, is there none? God, who favored us, whilst yet we knew not, with the Sultanate, Shall again accord Bagdad, decreed of God's might, is there none? Thou hast brought on Islam's army direful ruin with thy bribes; Have we not heard how thou say'st, "Word of this foul blight, is there none?" With the aid of God, fell vengeance on the enemy to take, By me skilled and aged, vizier, pious, zeal-dight, is there none? Now shall I appoint commander a vizier of high emprise, Will not Khizar and the Prophet aid him? guide right, is there none? Is it that thou dost the whole world void and empty now conceive? Of the Seven Climes, Muradi, King of high might, is there none?
—_Sultan Murad IV._ (1623-1640).
LUGAZ
There's an o'erhanging castle in which there flows a main, And there within that castle a fish its home hath ta'en; The fish within its mouth doth hold a shining gem, Which wastes the fish as long as it therein doth remain. This puzzle to the poets is offered by Murad; Let him reply who office or place desires to gain.
—_Sultan Murad IV._
MUNAJAT
Allah! Lord who liv'st for aye! O Sole! O King of Glory's Bay! Monarch who ne'er shalt pass away! show thou to us thy bounties fair. In early morning shall our cry, our wail, mount to thy Throne on high: "Error and sin our wont," we sigh: show thou to us thy bounties fair. If cometh not from thee thy grace, evil shall all our works deface; O Lord of Being and of Space! show thou to us thy bounties fair. Creator of security! to thy Beloved greetings be! These fair words are in sincerity: show thou to us thy bounties fair Iqbali sinnèd hath indeed, yet unto him thy grace concede; Eternal, Answerer in need! show thou to us thy bounties fair.
—_Sultan Mustafa II._ (1695-1703).
TURKISH POETESSES
A GAZEL BY ZEYNEB
Cast off thy veil, and heaven and earth in dazzling light array! As radiant Paradise, this poor demented world display! Move thou thy lips, make play the ripples light of Kevser's pool! Let loose thy scented locks, and odors sweet through earth convey! A musky warrant by thy down was traced, and zephyr charged: "Speed, with this scent subdue the realms of China and Cathay!" O heart! should not thy portion be the Water bright of Life, A thousand times mayst thou pursue Iskender's darksome way. O Zeyneb, woman's love of earthly show leave thou behind; Go manly forth, with single heart, forsake adornment gay!
A GAZEL BY MIHRI
Once from sleep I oped my eyes, I raised my head, when full in sight There before me stood a moon-faced beauty, lovely, shining, bright. Thought I: "In th' ascendant's now my star, or I my fate have reached, For within my chamber sure is risen Jupiter this night." Radiance from his beauty streaming saw I, though to outward view (While himself a Moslem) he in garb of infidel is dight. Though I oped my eyes or closed them, still the form was ever there; Thus I fancied to myself: "A fairy this or angel bright?" Till the Resurrection ne'er shall Mihri gain the Stream of Life; Yet in Night's deep gloom Iskender gleamed before her wond'ring sight.
A GAZEL BY MIHRI
Faithful and kind a friend I hoped that thou wouldst prove to me; Who would have thought so cruel and fierce a tyrant in thee to see? Thou who the newly oped rose art of the Garden of Paradise, That every thorn and thistle thou lov'st—how can it fitting be? I curse thee not, but of God Most High, Our Lord, I make this prayer— That thou may'st love a pitiless one in tyranny like to thee. In such a plight am I now, alack! that the curser saith to his foe: "Be thy fortune dark and thy portion black, even as those of Mihri!"
POEMS OF NEJATI
FROM HIS SPRING QASIDA
The early springtide now hath made earth smiling bright again, E'en as doth union with his mistress soothe the lover's pain. They say: "'Tis now the goblet's turn, the time of mirth 'tis now"; Beware that to the winds thou castest not this hour in vain. Theriaca within their ruby pots the tulips lay: See in the mead the running streamlet's glistening, snake-like train. Onward, beneath some cypress-tree's loved foot its face to rub, With turn and turn, and singing sweet, the brook goes through the plain. Lord! may this happy union of felicity and earth, Like turn of sun of Love, or Jesu's life, standfast remain! May glee and mirth, e'en as desired, continuous abide Like to a mighty Key-Khusrev's, or Jemshid's, glorious reign!
* * * * *
Sultan Mohammed! Murad's son! the Pride of Princes all; He, the Darius, who to all earth's kings doth crowns ordain! Monarch of stars! whose flag's the sun, whose stirrup is the moon! Prince dread as Doom, and strong as Fate, and bounteous as main!
FROM HIS QASIDA ON THE ACCESSION OF SULTAN BAYEZID II.
One eve, when had the Sun before her radiant beauty bright Let down the veil of ambergris, the musky locks of night; (Off had the royal hawk, the Sun, flown from the Orient's hand, And lighted in the West; flocked after him the crows in flight;) To catch the gloomy raven, Night, the fowler skilled, the Sphere, Had shaped the new-moon like the claw of eagle, sharp to smite; In pity at the doleful sight of sunset's crimson blood, Its veil across the heaven's eye had drawn the dusky Night.
* * * * *
Sultan of Rome! Khusrev of the Horizons! Bayezid! King of the Epoch! Sovereign! and Center of all Eight! The tablet of his heart doth all th' affairs of earth disclose; And eloquent as page of book the words he doth indite. O Shah! I'm he who, 'midst th' assembly where thy praise is sung, Will, rebec-like, a thousand notes upon one cord recite. 'Tis meet perfection through thy name to my poor words should come, As to rose-water perfume sweet is brought by sunbeam's light.
GAZEL
Truth this: a lasting home hath yielded ne'er earth's spreading plain; Scarce e'en an inn where may the caravan for rest remain. Though every leaf of every tree is verily a book, For those who understanding lack doth earth no leaf contain. E'en though the Loved One be from thee as far as East from West, "Bagdad to lovers is not far," O heart, then strive and strain. One moment opened were her ebriate, strife-causing eyne, By us as scimitars, not merely daggers, were they ta'en. Yearneth Nejati for the court of thy fair Paradise, Though this a wish which he while here on earth can ne'er attain.
RUBA'IS
O Handkerchief! I send thee—off to yonder maid of grace; Around thee I my eyelashes will make the fringe of lace; I will the black point of my eye ruh up to paint therewith; To yon coquettish beauty go—go look thou in her face.
O Handkerchief! the loved one's hand take, kiss her lip so sweet, Her chin, which mocks at apple and at orange, kissing greet; If sudden any dust should light upon her blessed heart, Fall down before her, kiss her sandal's sole, beneath her feet.
A sample of my tears of blood thou, Handkerchief, wilt show, Through these within a moment would a thousand crimson grow; Thou'lt be in company with her, while I am sad with grief; To me no longer life may be, if things continue so.
POEMS OF LAMI'I
ON AUTUMN
O sad heart, come, distraction's hour is now high, The air's cool, 'midst the elds to sit the time nigh. The Sun hath to the Balance, Joseph-like, past, The year's Zuleykha hath her gold hoard wide cast. By winds bronzed, like the Sun, the quince's face glows; Its Pleiads-clusters, hanging forth, the vine shows. In saffron flow'rets have the meads themselves dight; The trees, all scorched, to gold have turned, and shine bright. The gilded leaves in showers falling to earth gleam; With goldfish filled doth glisten brightly each stream. Ablaze each tree, and blent are all in one glare, And therefore charged with glistening fire the still air. Amidst the yellow foliage perched the black crows— As tulip, saffron-hued, that spotted cup shows. A yellow-plumaged bird now every tree stands, Which shakes itself and feathers sheds on all hands. Each vine-leaf paints its face, bride-like, with gold ink; The brook doth silver anklets round the vine link. The plane-tree hath its hands, with henna, red-dyed, And stands there of the parterre's court the fair bride. The erst green tree now like the starry sky shows, And hurling meteors at the fiend, Earth, stones throws.
ON SPRING
From the pleasure, joy, and rapture of this hour, In its frame to hold its soul earth scarce hath power. Pent its collar, like the dawning, hath the rose; From its heart the nightingale sighs forth its woes. Dance the juniper and cypress like the sphere; Filled with melody through joy all lands appear. Gently sing the running brooks in murmurs soft; While the birds with tuneful voices soar aloft. Play the green and tender branches with delight, And they shed with one accord gold, silver, bright. Like to couriers fleet, the zephyrs speed away, Resting ne'er a moment either night or day. In that raid the rosebud filled with gold its hoard, And the tulip with fresh musk its casket stored. There the moon a purse of silver coin did seize; Filled with ambergris its skirt the morning breeze; Won the sun a golden disk of ruby dye, And with glistening pearls its pocket filled the sky: Those who poor were fruit and foliage attained; All the people of the land some trophy gained.
ROSE TIME
O heart, come, wail, as nightingale thy woes show; 'Tis Pleasure's moment this, come, then, as rose blow. In burning notes make thou thy tuneful song rise; These iron hearts soft render with thy sad sighs. Within thy soul place not, like tulip, dark brand; When opportunity doth come, then firm stand. From earth take justice ere yet are these times left, And ere yet from the soul's harp is breath's song reft. They call thee—view the joys that sense would yield thee; But, ere thou canst say "Hie!" the bird is flown, see. Give ear, rose-like, because in truth the night-bird From break of dawn its bitter wail hath made heard. Their chorus all around the gleeful birds raise; The streamlets sing, the nightingale the flute plays. The jasmines with their fresh leaves tambourines ply; The streams, hard pressed, raise up their glistening foam high Of junipers and cypresses two ranks 'tween, The zephyr sports and dances o'er the flower-green. The streamlets 'midst the vineyard hide-and-seek play The flowerlets with, among the verdant leaves gay. Away the morning's breeze the jasmine's crown tears, As pearls most costly scatters it the plucked hairs. The leader of the play's the breeze of swift pace; Like children, each the other all the flowers chase. With green leaves dressed, the trees each other's hands take; The flowers and nightingales each other's robes shake. Like pigeon, there, before the gale that soft blows, Doth turn in many a somersault the young rose. As blaze up with gay flowerlets all the red plains, The wind each passes, and the vineyard next gains. The clouds, pearl-raining, from the meteors sparks seize; And flowers are all around strewn by the dawn-breeze. The waters, eddying, in circles bright play, Like shining swords the green leaves toss about they. With bated breath the Judas-trees there stand by; And each for other running brook and breeze sigh. The gales tag with the basil play in high glee; To dance with cypress gives its hand the plane-tree. The soft winds have adorned the wanton bough fair, The leader of the frolics 'midst the parterre. The narcisse toward the almond-tree its glance throws; With vineyard-love the pink upbraids the dog-rose. The water's mirror clear doth as the Sphere gleam; Its stars, the flowers, reflected, fair and bright beam. The meads are skies; their stars, the drops of dew, glow; The jasmine is the moon; the stream, the halo. In short, each spot as resurrection-plane seems; None who beholds of everlasting pain dreams. Those who it view, and ponder well with thought's eye, It's strange, if they be mazed and wildered thereby? Up! breeze-like, Lami'i, thy hermitage leave! The roses' days in sooth no time for fasts give!
POEMS OF GAZALI
FROM AN ELEGY ON ISKENDER CHELEBI
High honored once was the noble Iskender; O heart, from his destiny warning obtain. Ah! do thou see what at length hath befall'n him! What all this glory and panoply gain! Drinking the poison of doom, ne'er a remnant Of sweetness's taste in his mouth did remain. Retrograde, sank down his star, erst ascendant, From perfect conjunction, alas, did it wane. Dust on the face of his honor aye stainless Strewn hath the blast of betrayal profane. The Lofty Decree for his high exaltation Did Equity's Court, all unlooked for, ordain; Forthwith to the Regions of Eden they bore him, They raised him from earth's abject baseness and stain. Circling and soaring, he went on his journey, From the land of his exile to Home back again. Neck-bounden he stood as a slave at the palace, Freed is he now from affliction's hard chain. Joyous he flew on his journey to Heaven, Rescued forever from earth gross and vain. In life or in death from him never, ay, never Was honor most lofty, most glorious, ta'en!
FRAGMENT
Come is the autumn of my life, alas, it thus should pass away! I have not reached the dawn of joy, to sorrow's night there is no day. Time after time the image of her cheek falls on my tear-filled eye; Ah! no pretension to esteem can shadows in the water lay! Oh! whither will these winds of Fate impel the frail bark of the heart? Nor bound nor shore confining girds Time's dreary ocean of dismay!
POEMS OF FUZULI
GAZEL
O breeze, thou'rt kind, of balm to those whom pangs affright, thou news hast brought, To wounded frame of life, to life of life's delight thou news hast brought. Thou'st seen the mourning nightingale's despair in sorrow's autumn drear, Like springtide days, of smiling roseleaf fresh and bright, thou news hast brought. If I should say thy words are heaven-inspired, in truth, blaspheme I not; Of Faith, whilst unbelief doth earth hold fast and tight, thou news hast brought. They say the loved one comes to soothe the hearts of all her lovers true; If that the case, to yon fair maid of lovers' plight thou news hast brought. Of rebel demon thou hast cut the hope Suleiman's throne to gain; That in the sea secure doth lie his Ring of might, thou news hast brought. Fuzuli, through the parting night, alas, how dark my fortune grew! Like zephyr of the dawn, of shining sun's fair light thou news hast brought.
GAZEL
O thou Perfect Being, Source whence wisdom's mysteries arise; Things, the issue of thine essence, show wherein thy nature lies. Manifester of all wisdom, thou art he whose pen of might Hath with rays of stars illumined yonder gleaming page, the skies. That a happy star, indeed, the essence clear of whose bright self Truly knoweth how the blessings from thy word that flow to prize. But a jewel flawed am faulty I: alas, forever stands Blank the page of my heart's journal from thought of thy writing wise. In the journal of my actions Evil's lines are black indeed; When I think of Day of Gathering's terrors, blood flows from my eyes. Gathering of my tears will form a torrent on the Reckoning Day, If the pearls, my tears, rejecting, he but view them to despise: Pearls my tears are, O Fuzuli, from the ocean deep of love; But they're pearls these, oh! most surely, that the Love of Allah buys!
GAZEL
Is't strange if beauties' hearts turn blood through envy of thy cheek most fair? For that which stone to ruby turns is but the radiant sunlight's glare. Or strange is't if thine eyelash conquer all the stony-hearted ones? For meet an ebon shaft like that a barb of adamant should bear! Thy cheek's sun-love hath on the hard, hard hearts of fairy beauties fall'n, And many a steely-eyed one hath received thy bright reflection fair. The casket, thy sweet mouth, doth hold spellbound the _huri_-faced ones all; The virtue of Suleiman's Ring was that fays thereto fealty sware. Is't strange if, seeing thee, they rub their faces lowly midst the dust? That down to Adam bowed the angel throng doth the Koran declare! On many and many a heart of stone have fall'n the pangs of love for thee! A fire that lies in stone concealed is thy heart-burning love's dread glare! Within her ward, with garments rent, on all sides rosy-cheeked ones stray; Fuzuli, through those radiant hues, that quarter beams a garden fair.
GAZEL