(3) Shadows borne onward by the aforesaid stress. Whereupon said I: "Master, who are those People, whom the black air so castigates?" "The first of those, of whom intelligence Thou fain wouldst have," then said he unto me, "The empress was of many languages. To sensual vices she was so abandoned, That lustful she made licit in her law, To remove the blame to which she had been led. She is Semiramis, of whom we read That she succeeded Ninus, and was his spouse; She held the land which now the Sultan rules. The next is she who killed herself for love, And broke faith with the ashes of Sichaeus; Then Cleopatra the voluptuous." Helen I saw, for whom so many ruthless Seasons revolved; and saw the great Achilles, Who at the last hour combated with Love. Paris I saw, Tristan; and more than a thousand Shades did he name and point out with his finger, Whom Love had separated from our life. After that I had listened to my Teacher, Naming the dames of eld and cavaliers, Pity prevailed, and I was nigh bewildered.

(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.

(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.

(6) Herein doth living Justice sweeten so Affection in us, that for evermore It cannot warp to any iniquity. Voices diverse make up sweet melodies; So in this life of ours the seats diverse Render sweet harmony among these spheres; And in the compass of this present pearl Shineth the sheen of Romeo, of whom The grand and beauteous work was ill rewarded. But the Provencals who against him wrought, They have not laughed, and therefore ill goes he Who makes his hurt of the good deeds of others. Four daughters, and each one of them a queen, Had Raymond Berenger, and this for him Did Romeo, a poor man and a pilgrim; And then malicious words incited him To summon to a reckoning this just man, Who rendered to him seven and five for ten. Then he departed poor and stricken in years, And if the world could know the heart he had, In begging bit by bit his livelihood, Though much it laud him, it would laud him more."

(5) "A perfect life and merit high in-heaven A lady o'er us," said she, "by whose rule Down in your world they vest and veil themselves, That until death they may both watch and sleep Beside that Spouse who every vow accepts Which charity conformeth to his pleasure. To follow her, in girlhood from the world I fled, and in her habit shut myself, And pledged me to the pathway of her sect. Then men accustomed unto evil more Than unto good, from the sweet cloister tore me; God knows what afterward my life became. This other splendour, which to thee reveals Itself on my right side, and is enkindled With all the illumination of our sphere, What of myself I say applies to her; A nun was she, and likewise from her head Was ta'en the shadow of the sacred wimple. But when she too was to the world returned Against her wishes and against good usage, Of the heart's veil she never was divested.

(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.

(5) Florence, within the ancient boundary From which she taketh still her tierce and nones, Abode in quiet, temperate and chaste. No golden chain she had, nor coronal, Nor ladies shod with sandal shoon, nor girdle That caught the eye more than the person did. Not yet the daughter at her birth struck fear Into the father, for the time and dower Did not o'errun this side or that the measure. No houses had she void of families, Not yet had thither come Sardanapalus To show what in a chamber can be done; Not yet surpassed had Montemalo been By your Uccellatojo, which surpassed Shall in its downfall be as in its rise. Bellincion Berti saw I go begirt With leather and with bone, and from the mirror His dame depart without a painted face; And him of Nerli saw, and him of Vecchio, Contented with their simple suits of buff And with the spindle and the flax their dames. O fortunate women! and each one was certain Of her own burial-place, and none as yet For sake of France was in her bed deserted.

(3) From out that slope, there where it breaketh most Its steepness, rose upon the world a sun As this one does sometimes from out the Ganges; Therefore let him who speaketh of that place, Say not Ascesi, for he would say little, But Orient, if he properly would speak. He was not yet far distant from his rising Before he had begun to make the earth Some comfort from his mighty virtue feel. For he in youth his father's wrath incurred For certain Dame, to whom, as unto death, The gate of pleasure no one doth unlock; And was before his spiritual court 'Et coram patre' unto her united; Then day by day more fervently he loved her. She, reft of her first husband, scorned, obscure, One thousand and one hundred years and more, Waited without a suitor till he came. Naught it availed to hear, that with Amyclas Found her unmoved at sounding of his voice He who struck terror into all the world; Naught it availed being constant and undaunted, So that, when Mary still remained below, She mounted up with Christ upon the cross.

(7) He of his own free will began to say: 'Tan m' abellis vostre cortes deman, Que jeu nom' puesc ni vueill a vos cobrire; Jeu sui Arnaut, que plor e vai chantan; Consiros vei la passada folor, E vei jauzen lo jorn qu' esper denan. Ara vus prec per aquella valor, Que vus condus al som de la scalina, Sovenga vus a temprar ma dolor.'* Then hid him in the fire that purifies them. * So pleases me your courteous demand, I cannot and I will not hide me from you. I am Arnaut, who weep and singing go; Contrite I see the folly of the past, And joyous see the hoped-for day before me. Therefore do I implore you, by that power Which guides you to the summit of the stairs, Be mindful to assuage my suffering!

(6) And she to me: "There is no greater sorrow Than to be mindful of the happy time In misery, and that thy Teacher knows. But, if to recognise the earliest root Of love in us thou hast so great desire, I will do even as he who weeps and speaks. One day we reading were for our delight Of Launcelot, how Love did him enthral. Alone we were and without any fear. Full many a time our eyes together drew That reading, and drove the colour from our faces; But one point only was it that o'ercame us. When as we read of the much-longed-for smile Being by such a noble lover kissed, This one, who ne'er from me shall be divided, Kissed me upon the mouth all palpitating. Galeotto was the book and he who wrote it. That day no farther did we read therein." And all the while one spirit uttered this, The other one did weep so, that, for pity, I swooned away as if I had been dying, And fell, even as a dead body falls.

(5) A young man, brave and impetuous as a lion, was for five years in love with a woman. In one of the eyes of this beauty was a small speck, but the man, when gazing on the beauty of his mistress, never saw it. How could a man, so much in love, notice a tiny flaw? However, in time, his love began to dwindle and he regained his power over himself. It was then that he noticed the speck, and asked her

how it had come about. She said: 'It appeared at the time when your love began to cool. When your love for me became defective my eye became so for you.'

O blind of heart! how long will you continue to look for the faults of others? Strive to be aware of those things you hide so carefully. When you see your faults in all their ugliness you will not bother so much about those of others.

(3) The parents of Laila refused to let Majnun go near their tents. But Majnun, intoxicated with love, borrowed the skin of a sheep from a shepherd in the desert, where Laila's tribe pitched their tents. He bent his head down and put on the sheep-skin, and said to the shepherd: 'In the name of God, let me crawl along in the middle of your sheep, then lead the flock past Laila's tent, so that I may perhaps discover her sweet perfume, and being concealed in this skin may contrive something.' The shepherd did as Majnun wished, and as they passed her tent he saw her, and swooned away. The shepherd then carried him from the tents into the desert and threw water on his face to cool his burning love.

Another day, Majnun was with some companions in the desert, and one of them asked him: 'How can you, a nobleman, go about naked? I wdll get some clothes for you if you wish.' Majnun said: 'No garments that I can wear are worthy of my friend, so for me there is nothing better than my bare body or a sheepskin. She, for me, is as ispand to avert the evil eye. Majnun would willingly wear garments of silk and cloth of gold, but he prefers this sheepskin by means of which he caught sight of Laila.'

Love should tear aside your prudence. Love changes your attitude. To love is to give up your ordinary life and forsake your tawdry pleasures.

(2) And the sun's face, uprising, overshadowed So that by tempering influence of vapours For a long interval the eye sustained it; Thus in the bosom of a cloud of flowers Which from those hands angelical ascended, And downward fell again inside and out, Over her snow-white veil with olive cinct Appeared a lady under a green mantle, Vested in colour of the living flame. And my own spirit, that already now So long a time had been, that in her presence Trembling with awe it had not stood abashed, Without more knowledge having by mine eyes, Through occult virtue that from her proceeded Of ancient love the mighty influence felt. As soon as on my vision smote the power Sublime, that had already pierced me through Ere from my boyhood I had yet come forth, To the left hand I turned with that reliance With which the little child runs to his mother, When he has fear, or when he is afflicted, To say unto Virgilius: "Not a drachm Of blood remains in me, that does not tremble; I know the traces of the ancient flame."

(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,

(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.'

(3) Never to thee presented art or nature Pleasure so great as the fair limbs wherein I was enclosed, which scattered are in earth. And if the highest pleasure thus did fail thee By reason of my death, what mortal thing Should then have drawn thee into its desire? Thou oughtest verily at the first shaft Of things fallacious to have risen up To follow me, who was no longer such. Thou oughtest not to have stooped thy pinions downward To wait for further blows, or little girl, Or other vanity of such brief use. The callow birdlet waits for two or three, But to the eyes of those already fledged, In vain the net is spread or shaft is shot." Even as children silent in their shame Stand listening with their eyes upon the ground, And conscious of their fault, and penitent; So was I standing; and she said: "If thou In hearing sufferest pain, lift up thy beard And thou shalt feel a greater pain in seeing." With less resistance is a robust holm Uprooted, either by a native wind Or else by that from regions of Iarbas,

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.

(1) It was the hour when the diurnal heat No more can warm the coldness of the moon, Vanquished by earth, or peradventure Saturn, When geomancers their Fortuna Major See in the orient before the dawn Rise by a path that long remains not dim, There came to me in dreams a stammering woman, Squint in her eyes, and in her feet distorted, With hands dissevered and of sallow hue. I looked at her; and as the sun restores The frigid members which the night benumbs, Even thus my gaze did render voluble Her tongue, and made her all erect thereafter In little while, and the lost countenance As love desires it so in her did colour. When in this wise she had her speech unloosed, She 'gan to sing so, that with difficulty Could I have turned my thoughts away from her. "I am," she sang, "I am the Siren sweet Who mariners amid the main unman, So full am I of pleasantness to hear. I drew Ulysses from his wandering way Unto my song, and he who dwells with me Seldom departs so wholly I content him."

(1) Whene'er is broken up the game of Zara, He who has lost remains behind despondent, The throws repeating, and in sadness learns; The people with the other all depart; One goes in front, and one behind doth pluck him, And at his side one brings himself to mind; He pauses not, and this and that one hears; They crowd no more to whom his hand he stretches, And from the throng he thus defends himself. Even such was I in that dense multitude, Turning to them this way and that my face, And, promising, I freed myself therefrom. There was the Aretine, who from the arms Untamed of Ghin di Tacco had his death, And he who fleeing from pursuit was drowned. There was imploring with his hands outstretched Frederick Novello, and that one of Pisa Who made the good Marzucco seem so strong. I saw Count Orso; and the soul divided By hatred and by envy from its body, As it declared, and not for crime committed, Pierre de la Brosse I say; and here provide While still on earth the Lady of Brabant, So that for this she be of no worse flock!

(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.