The Prince of Bokhara had a Vakil who, through fear of punishment for an offence he had committed, ran away and remained concealed in Kuhistan and the desert for the space of ten years. At the end of that time, being unable to endure absence from his lord and his home any longer, he determined to return to Bokhara and throw himself at his lord's feet, and endure whatever punishment his lord might be pleased to inflict upon him. His friends did all they could to dissuade him, assuring him that the Prince's wrath was still hot against him, and that if he appeared at Bokhara he would be put to death, or at least imprisoned for the rest of his life. He replied, "O advisers, be silent, for the force of the love which is drawing me to Bokhara is stronger than the force of prudent counsels. When love pulls one way all the wisdom of Abu Hanifa and Ash-Shafi'i is impotent to withstand it. If it shall please my lord to slay me, I will yield up my life without reluctance, for this life of estrangement from him which I am now leading is the same as death, and release from it will be eternal happiness. I will return to Bokhara and throw myself at my lord's feet, and say to him, 'Deal with me as thou wilt, for I can no longer bear absence from thee, and life or death at thy hands is all the same to me!'" Accordingly, he journeyed back to Bokhara, counting the very toils and discomforts of the road sweet and delightful, because they were steps in his homeward course. When he reached Bokhara his friends and relations all warned him not to show himself, as the Prince was still mindful of his offence and bent on punishing him; but he replied to them as to his other advisers, that he was utterly regardless of his life, and was resolved to commit himself to his lord's good pleasure. He then went to the court and threw himself at his lord's feet and swooned away. The Prince, seeing the strong affection borne to him by his repentant servant, conceived a similar affection towards him, and descended from his throne and graciously raised him from the ground, and pardoned his offence. Thus it is that eternal life is gained by utter abandonment of one's own life. When God appears to His ardent lover the lover is absorbed in Him, and not so much as a hair of the lover remains. True lovers are as shadows, and when the sun shines in glory the shadows vanish away. He is a true lover of God to whom God says, "I am thine, and thou art mine!" In the course of this story, which is narrated at great length, are introduced anecdotes of a lover and his mistress, of the Virgin Mary being visited by the "Blessed Spirit" or Angel Gabriel, of the fatal mosque, of Galen's devotion to carnal learning, of Satan's treachery to the men of Mecca at the battle of Bedr, and of Solomon and the gnat. There also occur comments on various texts, and a curious comparison of the trials and wholesome afflictions of the righteous to the boiling of potherbs in a saucepan by the cook. The reply of the lover when asked by his mistress which city of all those he had seen was most pleasing in his sight.

A certain king had three sons, who were the light of his eyes, and, as it were, a fountain whence the palm tree of his heart drank the water of bliss. One day he called his sons before him and commanded them to travel through his realm, and to inspect the behavior of the governors and the state of the administration; and he strictly charged them not to go near a particular fort which he named. But, according to the saying, "Man hankers after what is forbidden," the three princes disobeyed their father, and, before going anywhere else, proceeded to visit this fort. The result was, that they fell into calamities, and had occasion to repeat the text, "Had we but hearkened or understood, we had not been among the dwellers in the flame." The fort was full of pictures, images and forms, and amongst them was a portrait of a beautiful damsel, the daughter of the King of China, which made such a deep impression on the three princes that they all became distracted with love and determined to journey to the court of the King of China and sue for the hand of his daughter.

A prince, while engaged on a hunting excursion, espied a fair maiden, and by promises of gold induced her to accompany him. After a time she fell sick, and the prince had her tended by divers physicians. As, however, they all omitted to say, "God willing, we will cure her," their treatment was of no avail. So the prince offered prayer, and in answer thereto a physician was sent from heaven. He at once condemned his predecessors' view of the case, and by a very skilful diagnosis, discovered that the real cause of the maiden's illness was her love for a certain goldsmith of Samarcand. In accordance with the physician's advice, the prince sent to Samarcand and fetched the goldsmith, and married him to the lovesick maiden, and for six months the pair lived together in the utmost harmony and happiness. At the end of that period the physician, by divine command, gave the goldsmith a poisonous draught, which caused his strength and beauty to decay, and he then lost favour with the maiden, and she was reunited to the king. This Divine command was precisely similar to God's command to Abraham to slay his son Ishmael, and to the act of the angel in slaying the servant of Moses, and is therefore beyond human criticism.

(1) A damsel said to her lover, "O fond youth, You have visited many cities in your travels; Which of those cities seems most delightful to you?" He made answer, "The city wherein my love dwells. In whatever nook my queen alights, Though it be as the eye of a needle, 'tis a wide plain; Wherever her Yusuf-like face shines as a moon, Though it be the bottom of a well, 'tis Paradise. With thee, my love, hell itself were heaven, With thee hell would be a mansion of delight, Without thee lilies and roses would be as flames of fire!"

(41) O Iover, 'twas love that gave life to Mount Sinai, When "it quaked, and Moses fell down in a swoon." Did my Beloved only touch me with his lips, I too, like the flute, would burst out in melody. But he who is parted from them that speak his tongue, Though he possess a hundred voices, is perforce dumb. When the rose has faded and the garden is withered, The BELOVED is all in all, the lover only veils Him; The BELOVED is all that lives, the lover a dead thing.

(161) I have never tasted wine sweeter than this poison, No health can be sweeter than this sickness! No devotion is better than this sin (of love), Years are as a moment compared to this moment!" Long time he dwelt with the King in this manner, With burning heart, as a lively sacrifice. Thus his life passed, yet he gained not the union He wished. Patient waiting consumed him, his soul could not bear it; The form of his earthly Beloved was hidden from him; He departed, and found union with his Spiritual Beloved.

(41) Freed from desire of eating and drinking, But when he is again beguiled into the snare, The Khalifa said to Laila, "Art thou really she For whom Majnun lost his head and went distracted? Thou art not fairer than many other fair ones." She replied, "Be silent; thou art not Majnun!" If thou hadst Majnun's eyes, Thou art in thy senses, but Majnun is beside himself. The more a man is awake, the more he sleeps (to love); Our wakefulness fetters our spirits,

The poet now returns to the story of Mahmud and Ayaz, which is continued at intervals till the end of the book. The king inquired of Ayaz what made him continually visit his old shoes and garments, as Majnun used to visit his Laila, or as a Christian regularly visits his priest to obtain absolution for his sins. Why should he call to these dead things, like a fond mother calling to her dead infant, were it not that faith and love made them, as it were, living beings to him? The eye sees what it brings with it to see; it can see nothing but what it has gained the faculty of seeing. Thus the face of Laila, which seemed so lovely to the eyes of Majnun, made clairvoyant by love, seemed to strangers to have no claims to beauty. The earthly forms which here surround us are, as it were, vessels fraught with spiritual wine, only visible to those who have learnt to discern the deep things of the Spirit.

(72) In a fit state to see the vision of Thyself? When our hearts are bewitched by Thy smiles and frowns, Can we gain life from these two alternating states? The fertile garden of love, as it is boundless, The true lover is exalted above these two states, He is fresh and green independently of autumn or spring! Pay tithe on Thy beauty, O Beauteous One! Tell forth the tale of the Beloved, every whit! For through coquetry His glances I gave Him leave to shed my blood, if He willed it;

A certain king dreamed that his dearly beloved son, a youth of great promise, had come to an untimely end. On awaking he was rejoiced to find that his son was still alive; but he reflected that an accident might carry him off at any moment, and therefore decided to marry him without delay, in order that the succession might be secured. Accordingly he chose the daughter of a pious Darvesh as a bride for his son, and made preparations for the wedding. But his wife and the other ladies of his harem did not approve of the match, considering it below the dignity of the prince to marry the daughter of a beggar. The king rebuked them, saying that a Darvesh who had renounced worldly wealth for the sake of God was not to be confounded with an ordinary beggar, and insisted on the consummation of the marriage. After the marriage the prince refused to have anything to do with his bride, though she was very fair to look on, and he carried on an intrigue with an ugly old woman who had bewitched him by sorcery. After a year, however, the king found some physicians who succeeded in breaking the spell, and the prince returned to his senses, and his eyes were opened to the superior attractions of his wife, and he renounced his ugly paramour and fell in love with his wife. This is a parable, the true wife being the Deity, the old paramour the world, and the physicians the prophets and saints. Another illustration is a child who played at besieging a mimic fort with his fellows, and succeeded in capturing it and keeping the others out. At this moment God "bestowed on him wisdom, though a child," and it became to him a day "when a man flees from his brethren," and he recognized the emptiness of this idle sport, and engaged in the pursuit of holiness and piety. This is followed by an anecdote of a devotee who had so concentrated his thoughts on things above that he was utterly careless of all earthly troubles, and was cheerful and rejoicing even in the midst of a severe famine. The world is the outward form of "Universal Reason" (Muhammad), and he who grieves him must expect trouble in the world.

(1) Already on my Lady's face mine eyes Again were fastened, and with these my mind, And from all other purpose was withdrawn; And she smiled not; but "If I were to smile," She unto me began, "thou wouldst become Like Semele, when she was turned to ashes. Because my beauty, that along the stairs Of the eternal palace more enkindles, As thou hast seen, the farther we ascend, If it were tempered not, is so resplendent That all thy mortal power in its effulgence Would seem a leaflet that the thunder crushes. We are uplifted to the seventh splendour, That underneath the burning Lion's breast Now radiates downward mingled with his power. Fix in direction of thine eyes the mind, And make of them a mirror for the figure That in this mirror shall appear to thee." He who could know what was the pasturage My sight had in that blessed countenance, When I transferred me to another care, Would recognize how grateful was to me Obedience unto my celestial escort, By counterpoising one side with the other.

(1) A loved one said to her lover to try him, Early one morning, "O such an one, son of such an one, I marvel whether you hold me more dear, Or yourself; tell me truly, O ardent suitor!" He answered, "I am so entirely absorbed in you, Of my own existence nothing but the name remains In my being is nothing besides you, O Object of desire! Therefore am I thus lost in you, Just as vinegar is absorbed in honey; Or as a stone, which is changed into a pure ruby, In that stone its own properties abide not

(82) I tell the tale of Saba in lovers' style. When the breeze bore Solomon's words to that garden, 'Twas as when bodies meet souls at the resurrection, The people of love are hidden amongst the peoples, Souls are disgraced by union with bodies, Arise, O lovers; this sweet draught is yours; Ye are they that endure; eternal life is yours. Ho! ye that seek, arise and take your fill of love, Snuff up that perfume of Yusuf! Approach, O Solomon, thou that knowest birds' language,

(12) He may be the house of the moon, but not the true moon; Or as the picture of a mistress, but not the living one. The mere Sufi is the " child of the season;" He clings to seasons as to a father, The pure one is drowned in the light cc that is not begotten," "What begets not and is not begotten" is God. Go I seek such love as this, if you are alive; If not, you are enslaved by varying seasons. Gaze not on your own pictures, fair or ugly, Gaze not at the sight of your own weakness or vileness, Gaze at object of your desire, O exalted one.

(12) When those Egyptian women sacrificed their reason, They penetrated the mansion of Joseph's love; The Cup-bearer of life bore away their reason, Joseph's beauty was only an offshoot of God's beauty; Be lost, then, in God's beauty more than those women. Love of God cuts short reasoning, O beloved, Through love bewilderment befalls the power of speech, It no longer dares to utter what passes; For if it sets forth an answer, it fears greatly Therefore it closes lips from saying good or bad, In like manner the Prophet's companions tell us

(152) O love, love, and heart's desire of love! Let thy first boon to me be this, Though thou knowest my condition clearly, O protector of slaves, listen to my speech. A thousand times, O prince incomparable, Has my reason taken flight in desire to see thee, And to hear thee and to listen to thy words, Thy inclining thine ear to my supplications The baseness of my heart's coin is known to thee, Thou art proud towards the arrogant and proud;

(31) I journeyed years and months for love of that Moon, Heedless of the way, absorbed in God. With bare feet I trod upon thorns and flints, Seeing I was bewildered, and beside myself, and senseless. Think not my feet touched the earth, What knows the heart of road and stages? What of distant and near, while it is drunk with love? Distance and nearness are attributes of bodies, You journeyed from the embryo state to rationality Without footsteps or stages or change of place,

THE fourth book begins with an address to Husamu-'d-Din, and this is followed by the story of the lover and his mistress, already commenced in the third book. A certain lover had been separated from his mistress for the space of seven years, during which he never relaxed his efforts to find her. At last his constancy and perseverance were rewarded, in accordance with the promises "The seeker shall find," and "Whoso shall have wrought an atom's weight of good shall behold it." One night, as he was wandering through the city, he was pursued by the patrol, and, in order to escape them, took refuge in a garden, where he found his long-sought mistress. This occasioned him to reflect how often men "hate the things that are good for them," and led him to bless the rough patrol who had procured him the bliss of meeting with his mistress. Apropos of this, an anecdote is told of a preacher who was in the habit of blessing robbers and oppressors, because their evil example had turned him to righteousness. The moment the lover found himself alone with his mistress, he attempted to embrace her, but his mistress repulsed him, saying, that though no men 'were present, yet the wind was blowing and that showed that God, the mover of the wind, was also present. The lover replied, "It may be I am lacking in good manners, but I am not lacking in constancy and fidelity towards you." His mistress replied, "One must judge of the hidden by the manifest; I see for myself that your outward behavior is bad, and thence I cannot but infer that your boast of hidden virtues is not warranted by actual facts. You are ashamed to misconduct yourself in the sight of men, but have no scruple to do so in the presence of the All-seeing God, and hence I doubt the existence of the virtuous sentiments which you claim to possess, but which can only be known to yourself." To illustrate this, she told the story of a Sufi and his faithless wife. This wife was one day entertaining a paramour, when she was surprised by the sudden return of her husband. On the spur of the moment she threw a woman's dress over her paramour and presented him to her husband as a rich lady who had come to propose a marriage between her son and the Sufi's daughter, saying she did not care for wealth, but only regarded modesty and rectitude of conduct. To this the Sufi replied, that as from her coming unattended it was plain that the lady had not the wealth she pretended to have, it was more than probable that her pretensions to extraordinary modesty and humility were also fictitious. The lover then proceeded to excuse himself by the plea that he had wished to test his mistress, and ascertain for himself whether she was a modest woman or not. He said he of course knew beforehand that she would prove to be a modest woman, but still he wished to have ocular demonstration of the fact. His mistress reproved him for trying to deceive her with false pretences, assuring him that, after he had been detected in a fault, his only proper course was to confess it, as Adam had done. Moreover, she added that an attempt to put her to the test would have been an extremely unworthy proceeding, only to be paralleled by Abu Jahl's attempt to prove the truth of the Prophet's claims by calling on him to perform a miracle.