Once unto his Vezīr quoth the crownèd King: “Thou, who in my world-realm knowest everything! With my sword I’ve conquered many and many a shore; Still I sigh right sorely: ‘Ah! to conquer more!’ Great desire is with me realms to overthrow; Through this cause I comfort ne’er a moment know. Is there yet a country whither we may wend, Where as yet our mighty sway doth not extend, That we may it conquer, conquer it outright? Ours shall be the whole earth--ours it shall be quite.” Then, when heard the Vezīr what the King did say, Quoth he: “Realm-o’erthrowing Monarch, live for aye! May the Mighty Ruler set thy crown on high, That thy throne may ever all assaults defy! May thy life’s rose-garden never fade away! May thy glory’s orchard never see decay! Thou’st the Peopled Quarter ta’en from end to end; All of its inhabitants slaves before thee bend. There’s on earth no city, neither any land, That is not, O Monarch, under thy command. In the Peopled Quarter Seven Climes are known, And o’er all of these thy sway extends alone!” _Ahmedī._ FROM KHUSREV AND SHĪRĪN The spot at which did King Khusrev Pervīz light Was e’en the ruined dwelling of that moon bright. Whilst wand’ring on, he comes upon that parterre, As on he strolls, it opes before his eyes fair. Among the trees a night-hued courser stands bound (On Heaven’s charger’s breast were envy’s scars found). As softly moved he, sudden on his sight gleamed A moon that in the water shining bright beamed. O what a moon! a sun o’er earth that light rains-- Triumphant, happy, blest he who her shade gains. She’d made the pool a casket for her frame fair, And all about that casket spread her dark hair. Her hand did yonder curling serpents back throw-- The dawn ’tis, and thereof we never tired grow. He saw the water round about her ear play; In rings upon her shoulders her dark locks lay. When yon heart-winning moon before the King beamed, The King became the sun--in him Love’s fire gleamed. The tears e’en like to water from his eyes rolled;-- Was’t strange, when did a Watery Sign the Moon hold? No power was left him, neither sport nor pleasure; He bit his finger, wildered beyond measure. Unconscious of his gaze, the jasmine-breasted-- The hyacinths o’er the narcissi rested. When shone her day-face, from that musky cloud bare, Her eyes oped Shīrīn and beheld the King there. Within that fountain, through dismay and shamed fright, She trembled as on water doth the moonlight. Than this no other refuge could yon moon find That she should round about her her own locks bind. The moon yet beameth through the hair, the dark night, With tresses how could be concealed the sun bright? To hide her from him, round her she her hair flung,