go.

When you find yourself strong and your happiness sure,
In gratitude, weak people's burden endure !
If you the same shape as a talisman show,
You die, and your name like your body will
And if you're a trainer of mercy's fair tree,
As fruit, a good name you will certainly see.
In Karkh you see tombs in great numbers around,
But excepting Maruf's, none is eminent found.
By Fortune! those people have gained high renown,
Who have cast from their temples vain-glory's false crown.
The pomp-loving person exhibits his pride;

He knows not that pomp may in mildness reside.

Story

(ON THE MEANNESS OF THE WORTHLESS AND THE FORBEARANCE OF THE WORTHY).

A "sauce-box" his wants to a pious man brought,
Who happened himself at the time to have nought.
Of money his girdle and hand showed no trace,
Or else he'd have thrown it like dust in his face.
To the outside the vile-visaged beggar then ran,
And to scold and abuse in the street thus began:
"Of these silent-tongued scorpions," he shouted, "beware!
They are fierce, tearing tigers who woollen clothes wear.
With their knees on their bosoms so cat-like, they stay,
And spring like a dog if a chance comes their way.
Their mart of deceit to the Musjid1 they brought,
For within their own houses less plunder they got.
Those who rob caravans are a lion-like race,
But the raiment of men in such hands meet disgrace.

1 Musjid, a mosque.

Black patches and white they together have sewn
With deceit, and in secret their riches have grown.
Well done! barley sellers, exhibiting wheat !
World wanderers ! night birds, who men's harvests eat!
Take no heed that in worship they're feeble and old,
For in dancing and pleasure they're youthful and bold!
Like Moses' famed rod, they devour a great deal,
And then show how distressed and afflicted they feel.
They do not abstain and their wisdom is Nil;
It's enough that the faith brings of Earth's joys their fill.
A cloak like Balil's1 they draw over their breast,
And in garments most costly their women are dress'd.
Of the Prophet's great law not a trace do they show,
But siestas and morning repasts, they all know.
Their stomachs with morsels are stuffed, seized as dues,
Like the beggar's patched wallet of seventy hues."
I care not to further enlarge on this case
For to talk of your own disposition is base.

The speaker untruthful denounced in this style;
The fault-seeking eye only sees what is vile.
When a man has a great many others disgraced;
What cares he when any one's honour's effaced ?
To the Sheikh a disciple reported the lies;

If the truth you require, such an act was not wise.

A foe at my back told my faults and reposed,

Much worse is the friend who brought all and disclosed. Some one shot forth an arrow which fell on the road,

It hurt not my body nor sorrow bestowed;

You lifted it up and came quickly to me,

And prick at my ribs with it, heartless and free.
The good-natured pietist smilingly said:

"It is easy to utter much more on this head !

1 Balil, a crier of prayers and favourite of the Prophet.

So far but a speck of my sins he can show;
But one in a hundred of all that I know.

Those faults which to me in suspicion he bound,
I myself know for certain within me are found.
For the first time this year, he before me appears;
Does he know of my faults during seventy years?
Than myself, none knows better the sins I have done
In this world, but the All-wise, Invisible One."
A right thinking man I have never yet seen,
Who thought that excepting one fault he was clean.
Is my sins' witness he, at the last trumpet's swell;
I fear not the Fire for my footing is well.
If my enemy wishes my faults to pourtray,

Bid him take, from before me, the copy away.

Those persons have been the pure men of God's road,
Who themselves as the butt of Calamity showed.
Be silent, until they the skin off you tear!

For the pious, the burdens of wantons must bear.
If a goblet they make from the ashes of men,
With stones, the revilers will break it again.

On the Impudence of Dervishes and the Clemency of Kings.

A prince of Damascus, King Salih by name,

With his slave about dawn from his residence came.
The suburbs and streets and bazaars he went round;
Like an Arab in style, half his face was upbound.
An observer he was and a friend of the poor;
Whoever is these is a Salih, I'm sure.

Two poor men lying down in a mosque met his sight;
Heart-distracted he found them and restless in plight.

From the cold of the night sleep had closed not their eyes; They, chameleon-like, longed for the sun to arise.

One unto the other proceeded to say:

"A Judge, too, will come on the Last Judgment Day.

If all the proud monarchs of lofty degree,
Who pleasures and mirth and desires sated see,
With the sufferers should unto Paradise go,

My head I'd not raise from my brick tomb below.
The Paradise high is our dwelling-place meet;
For to-day are grief's fetters attached to our feet.
What pleasure from them during life did you share,
That at last you should also their miseries bear?
Were Salih to come to this garden retreat,

With my slippers, the brains from his head I would beat!
When he uttered these words, to which Salih gave ear,
To remain, did not useful to Salih appear.

Off he went for a time, till the fountain sun-rise
Washed slumber away from the multitude's eyes.
He sent for and summoned both men in hot haste;
Majestic he sat and with honour them placed.

A shower of bounty upon them he rained,

And washed from their bodies the filth that remained. After suff'ring from cold, rain, high floods, and all that, 'Midst renowned cavaliers, they in dignity sat.

As beggars, quite naked they shivered all night;
With censers they perfumed their clothes at daylight!
One privately thus to the monarch did say :

"Oh thou, whose commands all the world must obey! Only persons of merit to eminence rise;

What appeared in us slaves that seemed good in your eyes?" From gladness the king like a rose raised his head;

He smiled in the face of the beggars and said :

“The man I am not, who from pride and display, Would in wrath, from the helpless my face turn away.

Put you, too, on my account malice aside !

Or you'll wrangle in Heaven when there you abide !
The portal of concord I've opened to-day;

Shut it not in my face on the morrow, I pray !"

If accepted you are, keep before you the way;
And if honour you wish, be the poor beggar's stay!
None bore fruit from the branch of the Tuba1 away,
Who sowed not the seed of true longing, to-day.
If you're void of belief, don't for happiness strain!
With the club of devotion, the ball you will gain.
When will you to lantern-like burning attain ?
Like a water-filled lamp, only self, you contain.
A body imparts a bright light to the rest,
Which burns like a candle within its own breast.

Story

(ON THE DISAPPOINTMENT OF THE CONCEITED).

Of Astrology some one a smattering had,

2

But his head was because of his vanity mad.
From a far distant land he reached Koshiyar's side,
With a heart full of longing and head full of pride.
On his face the philosopher shut both his eyes,
Nor taught him an atom regarding the skies.
When portionless, back he determined to go,
The eminent sage gave advice to him, so:
"You thought yourself full of Astrologer's lore!
Can a jug that is brimful contain any more?
Come free from pretensions, that full you may be !
You are full of yourself and go empty from me."

Tuba, name of a tree in Paradise, bearing delicious fruit.

2 Koshiyar, Abu-al-Hasan-Koshiyar, celebrated astronomer and tutor of Avicenna.