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 unlocked 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! _Gazālī._ 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 barque of the heart? Nor bound nor shore confining girds Time’s dreary ocean of dismay! _Gazālī._ GAZEL Dead am I of grief, my Moon no love who shows, ah! where art thou? Reach the skies, the plaints and wails born of my woes, ah! where art thou? Save within thy rosy bower rests not the nightingale, the heart; Figure fair as waving cypress, face as rose, ah! where art thou? Through thy lips the rose drops sugar at the feast of heart and soul; Where, my Parrot whose sweet voice doth love disclose, ah! where art thou? Though with longing dead were Ishāaq, live should he, did once she say: “O my poor one, wildered, weary, torn by woes, ah! where art thou?” _Ishāq Chelebi._ ON THE PROPHET MUHAMMED That thy form, O Beauty of his orchard who doth all pervade! Is a cypress, wrought of light, that casteth on earth’s face no shade. Though the gazers on the loveliness of Joseph cut their hands, Cleft in twain the fair moon’s palm, when it thy day-bright face surveyed. To the mart of the Hereafter, when a man hath passed, he gains Through the money bright, thy love, which is of joy the stock-in-trade. This, my hope, that yonder Cypress in the bowers of Paradise Shelter Zātī, and all true believers, ’neath his blissful shade. _Zātī._ GAZEL