Let rich dropping honey bedew the young root-
Still, still you will find that bitter's the fruit.
Bring the heavenly peacock, and cause it to brood.
O'er the egg of a raven; and then let the food
Of the nestling be fig-seeds from Eden's fair tree,
And let Gabriel breathe on it-holy is he!
Let it drink of the water of sweet Salsebil—
What does it avail?-'tis a hoarse raven still!
Deposit a viper in that rosy bed;

With the choicest of luxuries let it be fed—

Is it tamed by your kindness, or softened its spite?
O no! it turns on you with venomous bite.

By night, bring an owl to your elegant bowers;

Let it perch on the rose-bushes, sport 'mid the flowers;
But as soon as the day spreads its wings on the sky,
So soon will the owl stretch its pinions to fly,
And seek the tall forests in darkness to lie.
So sure as our garments catch odorous smell
In a shop of rich perfumes-and so far 'tis well-
They will borrow as surely a dark dusty hue
If we stand by a forge-you allow this is true;
Then wonder no more if a dark, evil deed,
From a dark evil man spontaneous proceed.
No more can the Ethiop make himself white,
Than a soul of mean birth can emerge into light,
And show itself generous, noble, and wise-
So let not the poets throw dust in our eyes.
O king! if I sooner this lesson had learned,

I should not be mourning my hopes overturned.

From the tenth century to the fourteenth was the Golden Age of Persian literature, the Mohammedan princes maintaining a kind of literary rivalship in the patronage of letters, so that to excel in poetry was the surest way to fame and fortune. Of all the cities of Persia none gave birth to more distinguished poets than Shiraz, "the Athens of the East." This classic city was so fertile in luxuries of every kind as to give occasion. to a popular saying that "if Mohammed had tested the pleasures of Shiraz he would have begged of Allah to make him immortal there." It was the birth-place of Sadi and Hafiz, two of the brightest stars that shine in this constellation.

Hafiz was born in 1300. He led a life of poverty, which he considered inseparable from genius, and which, according to his creed, was the only medium of salvation. Unlike most poets of his age, he refused all invitations to courts. Gheias Ud Din, Emperor of India, sent him a pressing request to visit

him, but the poet politely declined. He replied in a poem which concluded as follows:

O Hafiz, why conceal the desire that possesses you of visiting Sultan Gheias Ud Din?

It is your business to complain of the distance that separates you

The poetry of Hafiz is entirely lyrical; his strains are noted for their music and eloquence. He was gifted with an imagination remarkable for its creative fancy. A recent writer praises him as follows: "Hafiz is a genuine poet-so far as we know, the sweetest of all Persian poets. There is in his poetry a freshness and a fragrance as of early spring flowers, a careless outpouring of joy as free from any after-taste of bitterness as the caroling of a bird among the leaves of summer." The same author says, and the words but too plainly indicate the saddest defect of Persian poetry, "All prob lems of life and thought he pushes to one side by a simple reference to fate, and dwells upon an earth where no cold moral reigns.' Roses, wine, and women, spring, summer, sunshine, these things are all pleasant surely; and 'who knoweth what thing cometh after death?' Such is the beginning, middle, and end of Hafiz's philosophy."

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The following renderings of some of this poet's verses may be quoted:

Be patient, O my heart! be not vexed; verily the morn is succeeded by the night, and the night is succeeded by the day.

Some labor in the paths of love; others leave every thing to fate. But place no reliance on the permanency of the world; it is a tenement liable to many changes.

Be not sorry if a day of calamity should come; pass on, be thankful, lest greater ill betide thee.

His celebrated ode on the "Maid of Shiraz" is not worthy a place in the pages of the Quarterly. The following may suffice:

ODE BY HAFIZ.

Veiled is my soul in this material clay;

Blest be the hour that tears the veil away!

The imprisoned bird in sadness pours her strains,
So pines my soul to join her native plains.
Where am I come? or whence had I my birth?
Alas! I know not, nor aught else on earth.

Confined and bound in this material state
How shall I soar to purer realms of fate?
Yet will I hope the promised world of bliss;
And, with such hope, who would remain in this?
What if my heart reveal its longing woes?
The musk of Khotun must its sweets disclose.
The glittering tissue on my outward vest
But ill conceals the flame within my breast;
Come, then, transcendent source of life divine!
To thee the life thou gavest I resign;

Thou only livest; Hafiz is but thine!

It has been made a subject of discussion whether the poems of Hafiz should be taken in a literal or in a figurative sense. Strange as it may seem, the question is not capable of an easy solution. According to Jones, it "does not admit of a general answer. The most enthusiastic Sufis allow that there are some passages in the Odes of Hafiz which may be understood literally, and which are void of mystery as the words of God, while there are some entire odes which breathe the very essence of their philosophy, and to the general reader appear confused and' obscure."

To give an account of Sufism-which has exercised so powerful an influence over the greatest minds of Persia and India-would require too lengthy a digression. Intimately connected as it is with the subject in hand we cannot pass it without a few words. It is an attractive and very popular species of Pantheism. The following passage from the "Bostán" of the poet Sadi helps to an understanding of it in its more moderate form:

"The love of a being composed, like thyself, of water and clay, destroys thy patience and peace of mind; it excites thee in thy waking hours with minute beauties, and engages thee in thy sleep with vain imaginations. With such real affection dost thou lay thy head at her feet, that the universe, in comparison with her, vanishes into nothing before thee; and since thy gold allures not her eye, gold and mere earth appear equal in thine. Not a breath dost thou utter to any one else, for with her thou hast no room for any other. Thou declarest that her abode is in thine eye; or, when thou closest it, in thy heart. Thou hast no fear of censure from any man; thou hast no power to be at rest for a moment; if she demands thy soul, it runs instantly to thy lips. Since an absurd love, with its basis on air, affects thee so violently, and commands thee with a sway so despotic, canst thou wonder that they who walk in the true path are drowned in the sea of mysterious adoration? They disregard life through affection for its giver; they abandon the world, through remembrance of its maker; they are inebriated with the melody of their amorous plaints; they remember their beloved, and resign to him both this life and the next. Through remembrance of God they shun all mankind; they are so enamored of the cup-bearer that they spill the wine from the cup. No panacea can heal them, for no mortal can be apprised of their malady; so loudly has rung in their ears, from eternity FOURTH SERIES, VOL. XXXV.—5

The countrymen of Hafiz regarded him with mixed feelings. At the time of his death there were many who considered his works sinful and impious. They remonstrated against his being buried in consecrated ground; but his followers maintained that Hafiz never acted contrary to the leading tenets of the Koran, and that his life deserved every honor that could be bestowed on the life of a saint. "His opponents went even so far as to arrest the procession of his funeral. The dispute became hot, and blows were imminent, when it was agreed that a line of his own should settle the dispute. If it were to be in favor of religion his friends were to proceed with the bier; if the verse were calculated to promote immorality, the corpse was to be removed to such quarters as are intended to receive the remains of the infidels. The odes were produced before a person whose eyes were bound, and seven pages were counted back, when the inspired finger pointed to the following couplet:

Qadam daregh madár az janáza e Hafiz,

Agarchi gharq i gunah ast mirawad rah bihisht.
Or, in other words,

Grudge not your steps to IIafiz' funeral train ;
Though sunk in sin, his way to bliss is plain.

A shout arose; the admirers of the poet took up the bier, and those who had doubted joined them in carrying it for interment. To this day honor is done to the sacred spot, and to the memory of the great bard, by strewing flowers and pouring out libations of the choicest wines on his grave."

During the last four hundred years no names have appeared in Persia worthy to rank with those of Ferdusi, Sadi, and IIafiz. Persian literature became almost extinct in the sixteenth century, and has had little opportunity for revival, owing to the oppression and social disorganization under which the country has labored.

Something should be said of the forms of poetic composition without beginning, the divine query addressed to myriads of assembled souls, 'Art thou of God?' with the tumultuous reply, We are.' They are a sect fully employed, but sitting in retirement; their feet are of earth, but their breath is a flame: ... like stone, they are silent, yet repeat God's praises. At early dawn their tears flow so copiously as to wash from their eyes the black powder of sleep. So enraptured are they with the beauty of Him who decorated the human form, that with the beauty of the form itself they have no concern."

among the Persians. These are (1) the "Rubai:" this consists of four hemistichs or two stanzas, and bears some resemblance to the epigram of the ancients; it is in great favor among Persian poets. (2) The "Ghazal :" this corresponds to the ode of the Greeks and Romans. The most common subject of which it treats is love; other subjects are also dwelt upon, such as the delights of the season of spring, the beauties of the flowers of the garden, and the tuneful notes of the nightingales warbling among the rose-bushes; the praise of wine and hilarity, with an occasional pithy allusion to the brevity of human life. The first couplet is called the "Matla," or "the place of rising," (of a heavenly body.) and the rule is that both hemistichs of this couplet should have the same meter and rhyme; the remaining couplets must have the same meter, and the second hemistichs of each (but not necessarily the first) must rhyme with the "Matla." The concluding couplet is called the " Makta," or "the place of cutting short." In the "Makta" the poet manages to introduce his own name, or rather his nom de plume. As a general rule, the Ghazal must consist of at least five couplets, and not more than fifteen. (3) The "Kasida," which resem bles the idyllium of the Greeks; its subjects are generally praise of great personages, living or deceased; satire, elegy, and sometimes burlesques, also moral and religious reflections. When the subject is panegyric, in the concluding couplet the poet finishes with a benediction or prayer for the health and pros perity of the person addressed, such as, "May thy life, health, and prosperity endure as long as the sun and moon revolve!" (4) The "Kita;" this resembles the "Kasida." (5) The "Masnavi," a kind of epic poem, generally on amorous subjects or on the pleasures of the spring. The verses are not confined by any rule, as in the Ghazal; the poet alone determines the length of the poem.

Regarding the merits of Persian poetry, critics differ widely. Sir William Jones, the distinguished Oriental scholar, was profuse in praise. A century ago he wrote: "It has been my endeavor for several years to inculcate this truth, that if the principal writings of the Asiatics which are reposited in our public libraries were printed, with the usual advantages of notes and illustrations, and if the languages of the Eastern nations were studied in our great seminaries of learning, where every