(2) A king had a daughter as beautiful as the moon, who was loved by everone. Passion was awakened by her sleepy eyes and by the sweet intoxication of her presence. Her face was white as camphor, her hair musk-black. Jealousy of her lips dried up a ruby of the finest water, while sugar melted in them for shame.

By the will of destiny a dervdsh caught sight of her, and the bread he held dropped from his hand. She passed him like a flame, and as she passed, she laughed. At this the

derush fell in the dust almost deprived of life. He could rest neither by day nor night and wept continually. When he thought of her smile he shed tears as a cloud drops rain. This frantic love went on for seven years, the while he lived in the street with dogs. At last her attendants resolved to put an end to him. But the princess spoke to him in secret and said: 'How is it possible for there to be intimate rela> tions between you and me? Go at once, or you will be killed: don't stay any longer at my door, but get up and go.'

The poor dervish replied: 'The day I fell in love with you I washed my hands of life. Thousands such as I sacrifice themselves to your beauty. Since your men are bent on killing me unjustly, answer one simple question. On the day you became the cause of my death, why did you smile at me?' 'O you fool,' she said, 'when I saw that you were about to humiliate yourself, I smiled from pity. I am permitted to smile from pity but not from mockery.' So saying, she vanished like a wisp of smoke, leaving the dervish desolate.

(1) Another bird said to the Hoopoe: 'O most eminent bird, I am the slave of a charming being who has taken possession of me and deprived me of my reason. The image of her dear face is a thief of the great Path; she has put fire to the harvest of my life, and when I am absent from her I have not a moment's peace. Since my heart is on fire with passion I do not see how I can set out on this journey. I should have to cross the valleys and go through a hundred trials. Can I be expected to forsake this beauty to travel through scorching heat and bitter cold? I am too weak to go without her; and I am but the dust on her road. Such is my state. What can Ido?'

The Hoopoe replied: 'You are attached to visible things, and are head and foot in the suffering which follows from this. Sensual love is a game. Love which is inspired by passing beauty is itself fleeting. You are always comparing a body of blood and moods to the beauty of the moon. What is uglier than a body composed of flesh and bones? True beauty is hidden. Seek it then, in the invisible world. If the veil which hides the mysteries from our eyes should fall, nothing would be left in the world. AU visible forms would be reduced to nothing.'

(2) A king, whose empire stretched to the far horizons, had a daughter as beautiful as the moon. Before her loveliness even the fairies were abashed. Her dimpled chin resembled the well of Joseph, and the locks of her hair wounded a hundred hearts. Her eyebrows were twin bows, and when she loosed their arrows the space between sang her praise. Her eyes, languorous as the narcissus, threw thorns of her eyelashes in the path of the wise. Her face was as the sun when he took the moon's virginity. The Angel Gabriel could not tear his eyes from the pearls and rubies of her mouth. A smile of her

lips dried up the water of life in the beholder, who yet begged alms from these same lips. Whoever glanced at her chin fell headlong into a spring of bubbling water.

The king also had a slave, a youth, so handsome that the sun grew pale and the light of the moon diminished. When he walked in the streets and market-place crowds stopped to gaze at him.

By chance one day the princess saw this slave, and in a moment her heart slipped from her hand. Reason forsook her and love took possession. Her soul, sweet as Shirin, turned bitter. Withdrawing from her companions she mused, and musing and reflecting, began to burn. Then she called her ten young maids of honour. They were excellent musicians and played on the shawms and pipes; their voices wxre those of nightingales, and their singing, which tore the soul, was worthy of David. Gathering them around her she told them about her state, saying that she was ready to sacrifice her name, her honour, and her life for the love of this youth; for when one is deep in love one is good for nothing else. 'But,' she said, 'if I tell him of my love no doubt he will do something rash. If it becomes known that I have been intimate with a slave both he and I will suffer. On the other hand, if he does not possess me, I shall die lamenting behind the curtain of the harem. I have read a hundred books on patience and still I am without it. What can I do! I must find a way to enjoy the love of this slender cypress, so that the desire of my body shall accord with the longing of my soul - and this must be done without his knowing.'

Then the sweet-voiced maids said: 'Do not grieve. Tonight we will bring him here unknown to anyone, and even he will know nothing about it.'

Soon, one of the young girls went in secret to the slave and asked him, as if to play with him, to bring two cups of wine. Into one cup she threw a drug, contriving that he should drink it. He at once fell asleep, so that she was able

to carry out her plan, and the youth of the silver breast remained without news of the two worlds.

When night came the maids of honour went softly to where he lay and put him on a litter and carried him to the princess. Then they sat him on a golden throne and placed a coronet of pearls on his head. At midnight, still a little drugged, he opened his eyes and saw a palace as fair as paradise, and around him were golden seats. The place was lighted by ten great candles perfumed with amber, and sweet aloe wood burned in pans. The maidens began to sing, but in such sweet strains that reason bade farewell to the spirit, and the soul to the body. Then the sun of wine went round to the light of the candles. Bewildered with the joy of his surroundings and dazzled by the beauty of the princess, the youth lost his wits. He was no longer really in this world nor was he in the other. With a heart full of love, and a body possessed with desire, amid these delights he fell into a state of ecstasy. His eyes were fastened on her beauty and his ears to the sound of the reed pipes. His nostrils took in the perfume of amber and the wine in his mouth became like liquid fire. The princess kissed him, and he shed tears of joy while she mingled hers with his. Sometimes she pressed sweet kisses on his mouth, sometimes they were tinged with salt; sometimes she ruffled his long hair, sometimes she lost herself in his eyes. He possessed her; and so they passed the time until the dawn appeared in the East. When morning Zephyr breathed the young slave became sad; but they sent him to sleep again and took him back to his quarters.

When he of the silver breast came to himself, without knowing why, he began to weep. One might say the thing was finished, so what was the good of crying out. He tore his clothes, pulled his hair and put earth on his head. Those about him asked why he was doing this, and what had happened. He said: Ht is impossible to describe what I have

I

seen, no one else can ever see it except in a dream, for what has happened to me can never have happened to anyone before. Never was there a more astonishing mystery.'

Another said: 'Wake up, and tell us at least one of the hundred things that happened.' He replied: 'lam in a tumult because what I have seen has happened to me in another body. While hearing nothing I have heard everything, while seeing nothing I have seen everything.'

Another said: 'Have you lost your wits or have you just been dreaming?' 'Ah,' he said, 'I don't know if I was drunk or sober. What can be more puzzling than something which is neither revealed nor hidden. What I have seen I can never forget, yet I have no idea where it happened. For one whole night I revelled with a beauty who is without equal. Who and what she is I do not know. Only love remains, and that is all. But God knows the truth.'

(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) The amorous Nightingale first came forward almost beside himself with passion. He poured emotion into each of the thousand notes of his song; and in each was to be found a world of secrets. When he sang of these mysteries the birds became silent. 'The secrets of love are known to me,' he said. 'All night I repeat my songs of love. Is there no unhappy David to whom I can sing the yearning psalms of love? The flute's sweet wailing is because of me, and the lamenting of the lute. I create a tumult among the roses as well as in the hearts of lovers. Always I teach new mysteries, at each instant I repeat new songs of sadness. When love overpowers my soul my singing is as the sighing sea. Who hears me forsakes his reason, though he be among the wise. If I am parted from my dear Rose I am desolate, I cease my singing and tell my secrets to none. Mv secrets are not known to everyone; only to the Rose are they known with certainty. So deep in love am I with the Rose that I do not even think of my own existence; but only of the Rose and

the coral of her petals. The journey to the Simurgh is beyond my strength; the love of the Rose is enough for the Nightingale. It is for me that she flowers with her hundred petals; what more then can I wish! The Rose which blooms today is full of longing, and for me smiles joyously. When she shows her face under the veil I know that it is for me. How then can the Nightingale remain a single night deprived of the love of this enchantress?'

(5) Sitteth the city, wherein I was born, Upon the sea-shore where the Po descends To rest in peace with all his retinue. Love, that on gentle heart doth swiftly seize, Seized this man for the person beautiful That was ta'en from me, and still the mode offends me. Love, that exempts no one beloved from loving, Seized me with pleasure of this man so strongly, That, as thou seest, it doth not yet desert me; Love has conducted us unto one death; Caina waiteth him who quenched our life!" These words were borne along from them to us. As soon as I had heard those souls tormented, I bowed my face, and so long held it down Until the Poet said to me: "What thinkest?" When I made answer, I began: "Alas! How many pleasant thoughts, how much desire, Conducted these unto the dolorous pass!" Then unto them I turned me, and I spake, And I began: "Thine agonies, Francesca, Sad and compassionate to weeping make me. But tell me, at the time of those sweet sighs, By what and in what manner Love conceded, That you should know your dubious desires?"

(632) 1790 To say: My heart is full of the place where thou art; 1790 how harmful is thine odour, how bad is thine odour, how great is thine odour!

(3) She thereupon, who saw my silentness In the sight of Him who seeth everything, Said unto me, "Let loose thy warm desire." And I began: "No merit of my own Renders me worthy of response from thee; But for her sake who granteth me the asking, Thou blessed life that dost remain concealed In thy beatitude, make known to me The cause which draweth thee so near my side; And tell me why is silent in this wheel The dulcet symphony of Paradise, That through the rest below sounds so devoutly." "Thou hast thy hearing mortal as thy sight," It answer made to me; "they sing not here, For the same cause that Beatrice has not smiled. Thus far adown the holy stairway's steps Have I descended but to give thee welcome With words, and with the light that mantles me; Nor did more love cause me to be more ready, For love as much and more up there is burning, As doth the flaming manifest to thee. But the high charity, that makes us servants Prompt to the counsel which controls the world, Allotteth here, even as thou dost observe."

(2) And lo! my further course a stream cut off, Which tow'rd the left hand with its little waves Bent down the grass that on its margin sprang. All waters that on earth most limpid are Would seem to have within themselves some mixture Compared with that which nothing doth conceal, Although it moves on with a brown, brown current Under the shade perpetual, that never Ray of the sun lets in, nor of the moon. With feet I stayed, and with mine eyes I passed Beyond the rivulet, to look upon The great variety of the fresh may. And there appeared to me (even as appears Suddenly something that doth turn aside Through very wonder every other thought) A lady all alone, who went along Singing and culling floweret after floweret, With which her pathway was all painted over. "Ah, beauteous lady, who in rays of love Dost warm thyself, if I may trust to looks, Which the heart's witnesses are wont to be, May the desire come unto thee to draw Near to this river's bank," I said to her, "So much that I might hear what thou art singing.

(3) A lover, uneasy, troubled in his mind, and worn out with sighing, fell asleep on the mound of a grave. His mistress coming upon him and finding him asleep wrote a note and pinned it to his cloak. When he woke and read what she had written he groaned with anguish, for it said: 'O dumb man! rise up, and if you are a merchant, do business and get money; if you are an ascetic, wake at night and pray to God and be his slave. But if you are a lover, be ashamed of yourself. What has sleep to do with a lover's eyes? By day he measures the wind; at night his burning heart lights up his face with the brightness of the moon. As you are no such man, no longer boast of loving me. If a man can sleep elsewhere than in his shroud I may call him a lover - but, of himself.'

(6) So from the lights that there to me appeared Upgathered through the cross a melody, Which rapt me, not distinguishing the hymn. Well was I ware it was of lofty laud, Because there came to me, "Arise and conquer!" As unto him who hears and comprehends not. So much enamoured I became therewith, That until then there was not anything That e'er had fettered me with such sweet bonds. Perhaps my word appears somewhat too bold, Postponing the delight of those fair eyes, Into which gazing my desire has rest; But who bethinks him that the living seals Of every beauty grow in power ascending, And that I there had not turned round to those, Can me excuse, if I myself accuse To excuse myself, and see that I speak truly: For here the holy joy is not disclosed, Because ascending it becomes more pure.

(7) I'll give thee a corollary still in grace, Nor think my speech will be to thee less dear If it spread out beyond my promise to thee. Those who in ancient times have feigned in song The Age of Gold and its felicity, Dreamed of this place perhaps upon Parnassus. Here was the human race in innocence; Here evermore was Spring, and every fruit; This is the nectar of which each one speaks." Then backward did I turn me wholly round Unto my Poets, and saw that with a smile They had been listening to these closing words; Then to the beautiful lady turned mine eyes.

(1) Now was alone rejoicing in its word That soul beatified, and I was tasting My own, the bitter tempering with the sweet, And the Lady who to God was leading me Said: "Change thy thought; consider that I am Near unto Him who every wrong disburdens." Unto the loving accents of my comfort I turned me round, and then what love I saw Within those holy eyes I here relinquish; Not only that my language I distrust, But that my mind cannot return so far Above itself, unless another guide it. Thus much upon that point can I repeat, That, her again beholding, my affection From every other longing was released. While the eternal pleasure, which direct Rayed upon Beatrice, from her fair face Contented me with its reflected aspect, Conquering me with the radiance of a smile, She said to me, "Turn thee about and listen; Not in mine eyes alone is Paradise." Even as sometimes here do we behold The affection in the look, if it be such That all the soul is wrapt away by it,

(4) A poor dendsh once fell in love with Ayaz, and the news soon spread. When Ayaz rode through the street, perfumed with musk, this spiritual wanton would wait and run out to see him, and would stare at him as a polo player fixes his eye on the ball. At last they told Mahmud about this beggar being in love with Ayaz. One day, when Ayaz was riding with the sultan, the latter stopped and looked at this dervish and he saw that the soul of Ayaz was as a grain of barley and the face of the man as a ball of dough which encloses it.

He saw that the back of the beggar was curved like a mallet, and his head was turning every way at once like the ball in polo. Mahmud said: 'Miserable beggar, do you expect to drink from the same cup as the Sultan?' 'Although you call me a beggar,' replied the dervish, 'I am not inferior to you in the play of love. Love and poverty go together. You are the sovereign, and your heart is luminous; but for love, a burning heart like mine is necessary. Your love is commonplace. I suffer from the pain of absence. You are with the beloved; but in love one must know how to endure the pain of absence.' The sultan said: 'O you who have withdrawn from ordinary existence, love to you is as a game of polo?' 'It is,' replied the beggar, 'because the ball is always in movement, as I am, and I as the ball. The ball and I have heads that turn, though we have neither hands nor feet. We can speak together about the suffering that the mallet causes us; but the ball is happier than I, for the pony touches it from time to time with its feet. The ball receives the blows of the mallet on his body, but I feel them in my heart.'

'Poor Dervish!' said the sultan, 'you boast of your poverty, but where is your evidence?'

'If I sacrifice everything for love,' replied the derdsh, 'that is a token of my spiritual poverty. And if you, O Mahmud, ever have the experience of real love, sacrifice your life for it; if not you have no right to speak of love.'

So saying, he died, and the world became dark for Mahmud.

(2) For as the sun the sight that trembles most, Even so the memory of that sweet smile My mind depriveth of its very self. From the first day that I beheld her face In this life, to the moment of this look, The sequence of my song has ne'er been severed; But now perforce this sequence must desist From following her beauty with my verse, As every artist at his uttermost. Such as I leave her to a greater fame Than any of my trumpet, which is bringing Its arduous matter to a final close, With voice and gesture of a perfect leader She recommenced: "We from the greatest body Have issued to the heaven that is pure light; Light intellectual replete with love, Love of true good replete with ecstasy, Ecstasy that transcendeth every sweetness. Here shalt thou see the one host and the other Of Paradise, and one in the same aspects Which at the final judgment thou shalt see." Even as a sudden lightning that disperses The visual spirits, so that it deprives The eye of impress from the strongest objects,

(1) The Hoopoe continued: 'The next valley is The Valley of Love. To enter it one must be a flaming fire - what shall I say? A man must himself be fire. The face of the lover must be enflamed, burning and impetuous as fire. True love knows no after-thoughts; with love, good and evil cease to exist.

'But as for you, the heedless and the careless, this discourse will not touch you, your teeth will not even nibble at it. A loyal person stakes ready money, stakes his head even, to be united to his friend. Others content themselves with promising what they will do for you tomorrow. If he who sets out on this way will not engage himself wholly and completely he will never be free from the sadness and melancholy which weigh him down. Until the falcon reaches his aim he is agitated and distressed. If a fish is thrown on to the beach by the waves it struggles to get back into the water.

'In this valley, love is represented by fire, and reason by smoke. When love comes reason disappears. Reason cannot live with the folly of love; love has nothing to do with human reason. If you possessed inner sight, the atoms of the visible world would be manifested to you. But if you look at things with the eye of ordinary reason you will never understand how necessary it is to love. Only a man who has been tested and is free can feel this. He who undertakes tliis journey should have a thousand hearts so that he can sacrifice one at every moment.'

(5) There was once a king who had a son as charming as Joseph, full of grace and beauty. He was loved by ever)'one, and all who saw him would gladly have been the dust under his feet. If he went out at night, it was as if a new sun had risen over the desert. His eyes were the black narcissus, and when they glanced they set a world on fire. His smile scattered sugar, and wherever he walked a thousand roses bloomed, not waiting for the spring.

Now there was a simple dervish who had lost his heart to this young prince. Day and night he sat near the prince's palace, neither eating nor sleeping. His face became like yellow gold, and his ecs shed tears of silver, for his heart was cut in two. He would have died, but that from time to time he caught a glimpse of the young prince when he appeared in the bazaar. But how could such a prince comfort a poor dervish in this state? Yet the simple man, who was a shadow, a particle of an atom, wished to take the radiant sun on his breast.

One day when the prince was riding at the head of his attendants the dervish stood up and gave a cry and said: ' My reason has left me, my heart is consumed, I no longer have patience or strength to suffer,' and he beat his head on the ground in front of the prince. One of the courtiers wanted to have him killed, and went to the king. 'Sire,' he said, 'a libertine has fallen in love with your son.' The

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king was very angr)': 'Have this audacious scoundrel impaled/ he said. 'Bind him hand and foot and put his head on a stake.' The courtier went at once to do his bidding. They put a running noose on the neck of the beggar and dragged him to the stake. No one knew what it was about and no one interceded for him. When the wazir had had him brought under the gibbet, the dervish gave a cry of grief and said: 'For the love of God, give me a respite, so that at least I can say a prayer under the gibbet.' This was allowed, and the dervish prostrated himself and prayed: ' O God, since the king has given orders for my death - I, who am innocent - grant me, your ignorant servant, before I die, the good fortune to see only once the face of this young man, so that I may offer myself as a sacrifice. O God, my King, you who give ear to a thousand prayers, grant this last wish of mine.'

No sooner had the dervish uttered this prayer than the arrow of his desire reached its mark. The wazir divined his secret and took pity on him. He went to the king and explained the true state of things. At this the king became thoughtful; then compassion filled his heart and he pardoned the dervish, and said to the prince: 'Go and fetch this poor man from under the gibbet. Be gentle with him and drink with him, for he has tasted of your poison. Take him to your garden and then bring him to me.'

The young prince, another Joseph, went at once - the sun with a face of fire came face to face with an atom. This ocean of beautiful pearls went to seek a drop of water. Beat your head for joy, set your feet dancing, clap your hands! But the dervish was in despair; his tears turned the dust to mud and the world became heavy with his sighs. Even the prince himself could not help but weep. When the dervdsh saw his tears he said: 'O Prince, now you may take my life.' And so saying, he gave up the ghost and died. When he knew that he was united to his beloved no other desires were left.

O you, who at once exist and are yet a non-entity, whose happiness is mingled with unhappiness, if you have never experienced unrest, how will you appreciate tranquillity? You stretch out your hand towards the lightning and are stopped by swept-up heaps of snow. Strive valiantly, burn reason, and give yourself up to folly. If you wish to use this alchemy reflect a little and, by my example, renounce yourself; withdraw from your wandering thoughts into your soul so that you may come to spiritual poverty. As for me, who am neither I nor not-I, I have strayed from myself, and I find no other remedy than despair.

(6) A man of high ideals fell in love with a beautiful young woman. But, as time went on, she to whom he had given his heart became thin, and as yellow as a sprig of saffron. The bright day faded from her heart; and death, who was watching from far off, came near. When her lover learnt of this he took a dagger and said: 'I will go and kill my mistress where she lies so that this beauty, who is like a wonderful picture, does not die by nature.' They said to him: 'Are you mad! Why do you wish to kill her when she is already at the point of death?' The lover said: 'If she dies at my hands they will kill me, since I am forbidden to do that myself. Then, on the day of resurrection, we shall be together as we are now. If I am put to death because of my passion for her we shall be as one, as the clear flame of a lighted candle.'

Lovers who have staked their lives for their love have entered on the Path. In the Life of the Spirit they are united to the object of their affection.

(7) "Turn, Beatrice, O turn thy holy eyes," Such was their song, "unto thy faithful one, Who has to see thee ta'en so many steps. In grace do us the grace that thou unveil Thy face to him, so that he may discern The second beauty which thou dost conceal." O splendour of the living light eternal! Who underneath the shadow of Parnassus Has grown so pale, or drunk so at its cistern, He would not seem to have his mind encumbered Striving to paint thee as thou didst appear, Where the harmonious heaven o'ershadowed thee, When in the open air thou didst unveil?

(4) More hatred from Leander did not suffer For rolling between Sestos and Abydos, Than that from me, because it oped not then. "Ye are new-comers; and because I smile," Began she, "peradventure, in this place Elect to human nature for its nest, Some apprehension keeps you marvelling; But the psalm 'Delectasti' giveth light Which has the power to uncloud your intellect. And thou who foremost art, and didst entreat me, Speak, if thou wouldst hear more; for I came ready To all thy questionings, as far as needful." "The water," said I, "and the forest's sound, Are combating within me my new faith In something which I heard opposed to this." Whence she: "I will relate how from its cause Proceedeth that which maketh thee to wonder, And purge away the cloud that smites upon thee. The Good Supreme, sole in itself delighting, Created man good, and this goodly place Gave him as hansel of eternal peace. By his default short while he sojourned here; By his default to weeping and to toil He changed his innocent laughter and sweet play.