(1) The concubine of old Tithonus now Gleamed white upon the eastern balcony, Forth from the arms of her sweet paramour; With gems her forehead all relucent was, Set in the shape of that cold animal Which with its tail doth smite amain the nations, And of the steps, with which she mounts, the Night Had taken two in that place where we were, And now the third was bending down its wings; When I, who something had of Adam in me, Vanquished by sleep, upon the grass reclined, There were all five of us already sat. Just at the hour when her sad lay begins The little swallow, near unto the morning, Perchance in memory of her former woes, And when the mind of man, a wanderer More from the flesh, and less by thought imprisoned, Almost prophetic in its visions is, In dreams it seemed to me I saw suspended An eagle in the sky, with plumes of gold, With wings wide open, and intent to stoop, And this, it seemed to me, was where had been By Ganymede his kith and kin abandoned, When to the high consistory he was rapt.

(3) And when a man is asleep, reposing, and at perfect rest, so that he sees no dream , then he has entered into those arteries. Then no evil touches him, for he has obtained the light (of the sun).

(2) Even thus, relieved from the delay of waiting, That murmuring of the eagle mounted up Along its neck, as if it had been hollow. There it became a voice, and issued thence From out its beak, in such a form of words As the heart waited for wherein I wrote them. "The part in me which sees and bears the sun In mortal eagles," it began to me, "Now fixedly must needs be looked upon; For of the fires of which I make my figure, Those whence the eye doth sparkle in my head Of all their orders the supremest are. He who is shining in the midst as pupil Was once the singer of the Holy Spirit, Who bore the ark from city unto city; Now knoweth he the merit of his song, In so far as effect of his own counsel, By the reward which is commensurate. Of five, that make a circle for my brow, He that approacheth nearest to my beak Did the poor widow for her son console; Now knoweth he how dearly it doth cost Not following Christ, by the experience Of this sweet life and of its opposite.

(21) And we are even as greedy and foolish birds; Every moment our feet are caught in a fresh snare ; Yea, each one of us, though he be a falcon or Simurgh! Thou dost release us every moment, and straightway We again fly into the snare, O Almighty One! Sleep of the body the soul's awakening. Every night Thou freest our spirits from the body And its snare, making them pure as rased tablets. Every night spirits are released from this cage, And set free, neither lording it nor lorded over.

(4) A Sufi woke one night and said to himself: 'It seems to me that the world is like a chest in which we are put and the lid shut down, and we give ourselves up to foolishness. When death lifts the lid, he who has acquired wings, soars away to eternity, but he who has not, stays in the chest a prey to a thousand tribulations. Make sure then that the bird of ambition acquires wings of aspiration, and give to your heart and reason the ecstasy of the soul. Before the lid of the chest is opened become a bird of the Spirit, ready to spread your wings.'

(12) B (lo) Welcome, O Hawk! You who have taken wing, and after rebelling against your master have bowed your head! Bear yourself becomingly. You are fastened to the body of this world, and so are far from the other. When you are free of the worlds, present and future, you will rest on the hand of Alexander.

(2) 'As a bird when tied by a string flies first in every direction, and finding no rest anywhere, settles down at last on the very place where it is fastened, exactly in the same manner, my son, that mind (the gîva, or living Self in the mind, see VI, 3, 2), after flying in every direction, and finding no rest anywhere, settles down on breath ; for indeed, my son, mind is fastened to breath.

(4) Each of us of a stair had made his bed; Because the nature of the mount took from us The power of climbing, more than the delight. Even as in ruminating passive grow The goats, who have been swift and venturesome Upon the mountain-tops ere they were fed, Hushed in the shadow, while the sun is hot, Watched by the herdsman, who upon his staff Is leaning, and in leaning tendeth them; And as the shepherd, lodging out of doors, Passes the night beside his quiet flock, Watching that no wild beast may scatter it, Such at that hour were we, all three of us, I like the goat, and like the herdsmen they, Begirt on this side and on that by rocks. Little could there be seen of things without; But through that little I beheld the stars More luminous and larger than their wont. Thus ruminating, and beholding these, Sleep seized upon me,—sleep, that oftentimes Before a deed is done has tidings of it. It was the hour, I think, when from the East First on the mountain Citherea beamed, Who with the fire of love seems always burning;

(20) Nor yet dead so as to feel the power of 'Isa's breath. His blind soul wanders in every direction, And at last makes a spring, but springs not upwards. A man captured a bird by wiles and snares; The bird said to him, "O noble sir, In your time you have eaten many oxen and sheep, And likewise sacrificed many camels; You have never become satisfied with their meat, Let me go, that I may give you three counsels,

(1) 'When a man being asleep, reposing, and at perfect rest , sees no dreams, that is the Self, this is the immortal, the fearless, this is Brahman.' Then Indra went away satisfied in his heart. But before he had returned to the Devas, he saw this difficulty. In truth he thus does not know himself (his self) that he is I, nor does he know anything that exists. He is gone to utter annihilation. I see no good in this.

(2) The entrance of this spirit, also, is accompanied with a noise, and he diffuses himself on all sides without any contact, and effects admirable works conducive to the liberation of the passions of the soul and body. But sometimes a bright and tranquil light shines forth, by which the sight of the eyes is detained, and which occasions them to become closed, though they were before open. The other senses, however, are in a vigilant state, and in a certain respect have a cosensation of the light unfolded by the Gods; and the recumbents hear what the Gods say, and know, by a consecutive perception, what is then done by them. This, however, is beheld in a still more perfect manner, when the sight perceives, when intellect, being corroborated, follows what is performed, and this is accompanied with the motion of the spectators. Such, therefore, and so many being the differences of these dreams, no one of them is similar to human dreams. But wakefulness, a detention of the eyes, a similar oppression of the head, a condition between sleeping and waking, an instantaneous excitation, or perfect vigilance, are all of them divine indications, and are adapted to the reception of the Gods. They are also sent by the Gods, and a part of divine appearances antecedes according to things of this kind.

(3) Next came the Hawk, with head erect, and the bearing of a soldier. He said: 'I who delight in the company of kings pay no regard to other creatures. I cover my eyes with a hood so that I may put my feet on the king's hand. I am perfectly trained in polite behaviour and practise abstinence like any penitent so that when I am taken before a king I can perform my duties exactly as is expected of me. Why should I see the

Simurgh, even in a dream? Why should I rush heedlessly to him? I do not feel called upon to take part in this journey. I am content with a morsel from the king's hand; his court is good enough for me. He who plays for royal favours obtains his desire; and to be agreeable to the king I have only to take flight through the boundless valleys. I have no other wish than to pass my life joyfully in this fashion - either waiting for the king or hunting at his pleasure.'

(6) Action, thus, is set towards contemplation and an object of contemplation, so that even those whose life is in doing have seeing as their object; what they have not been able to achieve by the direct path, they hope to come at by the circuit.

Further: suppose they succeed; they desired a certain thing to come about, not in order to be unaware of it but to know it, to see it present before the mind: their success is the laying up of a vision. We act for the sake of some good; this means not for something to remain outside ourselves, not in order that we possess nothing but that we may hold the good of the action. And hold it, where? Where but in the mind?

Thus once more, action is brought back to contemplation: for Soul is a Reason-Principle and anything that one lays up in the Soul can be no other than a Reason-Principle, a silent thing, the more certainly such a principle as the impression made is the deeper.

This vision achieved, the acting instinct pauses; the mind is satisfied and seeks nothing further; the contemplation, in one so conditioned, remains absorbed within as having acquired certainty to rest upon. The brighter the certainty, the more tranquil is the contemplation as having acquired the more perfect unity; and- for now we come to the serious treatment of the subject-

In proportion to the truth with which the knowing faculty knows, it comes to identification with the object of its knowledge.

As long as duality persists, the two lie apart, parallel as it were to each other; there is a pair in which the two elements remain strange to one another, as when Ideal-Principles laid up in the mind or Soul remain idle.

Hence the Idea must not be left to lie outside but must be made one identical thing with the soul of the novice so that he finds it really his own.

The Soul, once domiciled within that Idea and brought to likeness with it, becomes productive, active; what it always held by its primary nature it now grasps with knowledge and applies in deed, so becoming, as it were, a new thing and, informed as it now is by the purely intellectual, it sees as a stranger looking upon a strange world. It was, no doubt, essentially a Reason-Principle, even an Intellectual Principle; but its function is to see a realm which these do not see.

For, it is a not a complete thing: it has a lack; it is incomplete in regard to its Prior; yet it, also, has a tranquil vision of what it produces. What it has once brought into being it produces no more, for all its productiveness is determined by this lack: it produces for the purpose of Contemplation, in the desire of knowing all its content: when there is question of practical things it adapts its content to the outside order.

The Soul has a greater content than Nature has and therefore it is more tranquil; it is more nearly complete and therefore more contemplative. It is, however, not perfect, and is all the more eager to penetrate the object of contemplation, and it seeks the vision that comes by observation. It leaves its native realm and busies itself elsewhere; then it returns, and it possesses its vision by means of that phase of itself from which it had parted. The self-indwelling Soul inclines less to such experiences.

The Sage, then, is the man made over into a Reason-Principle: to others he shows his act but in himself he is Vision: such a man is already set, not merely in regard to exterior things but also within himself, towards what is one and at rest: all his faculty and life are inward-bent.

(5) Salutations, O Falcon Royal! You of piercing sight, how long will you remain so violent and passionate? Fasten your talons to the letter of eternal love but do not break the seal until eternity. Mix your spirit with reason and see the eternity of before and after as one. Break your vile carcase and establish yourself in the cavern of unity, and Muhammad will come to you.

(8) To what do the former beings pertain? They are like forgetfulness and heavy sleep; being like those who dream troubled dreams, to whom sleep comes while they - those who dream - are oppressed. The others are like some creatures of light for him, looking for the rising of the sun, since it happened that they saw in him dreams which are truly sweet. It immediately put a stop to the emanations of the thought. They did not any longer have their substance and also they did not have honor any longer.

(32) But the memory of friends, children, wife? Country too, and all that the better sort of man may reasonably remember?

All these, the one retains with emotion, the authentic man passively: for the experience, certainly, was first felt in that lower phase from which, however, the best of such impressions pass over to the graver soul in the degree in which the two are in communication.

The lower soul must be always striving to attain to memory of the activities of the higher: this will be especially so when it is itself of a fine quality, for there will always be some that are better from the beginning and bettered here by the guidance of the higher.

The loftier, on the contrary, must desire to come to a happy forgetfulness of all that has reached it through the lower: for one reason, there is always the possibility that the very excellence of the lower prove detrimental to the higher, tending to keep it down by sheer force of vitality. In any case the more urgent the intention towards the Supreme, the more extensive will be the soul's forgetfulness, unless indeed, when the entire living has, even here, been such that memory has nothing but the noblest to deal with: in this world itself, all is best when human interests have been held aloof; so, therefore, it must be with the memory of them. In this sense we may truly say that the good soul is the forgetful. It flees multiplicity; it seeks to escape the unbounded by drawing all to unity, for only thus is it free from entanglement, light-footed, self-conducted. Thus it is that even in this world the soul which has the desire of the other is putting away, amid its actual life, all that is foreign to that order. It brings there very little of what it has gathered here; as long as it is in the heavenly regions only, it will have more than it can retain.

The Hercules of the heavenly regions would still tell of his feats: but there is the other man to whom all of that is trivial; he has been translated to a holier place; he has won his way to the Intellectual Realm; he is more than Hercules, proven in the combats in which the combatants are the wise.

(1) The wise, therefore, speak as follows: The soul having a twofold life, one being in conjunction with body, but the other being separate from all body; when we are awake we employ, for the most part, the life which is common with the body, except when we separate ourselves entirely from it by pure intellectual and dianoetic energies. But when we are asleep, we are perfectly liberated, as it were, from certain surrounding bonds, and use a life separated from generation. Hence, this form of life, whether it be intellectual or divine, and whether these two are the same thing, or whether each is peculiarly of itself one thing, is then excited in us, and energizes in a way conformable to its nature. Since, therefore, intellect surveys real beings, but the soul contains in itself the reasons of all generated natures, it very properly follows that, according to a cause which comprehends future events, it should have a foreknowledge of them, as arranged in their precedaneous reasons. And it possesses a divination still more perfect than this, when it conjoins the portions of life and intellectual energy to the wholes from which it was separated. For then it is filled from wholes with all scientific knowledge, so as for the most part to attain by its conceptions to the apprehension of every thing which is effected in the world. Indeed, when it is united to the Gods, by a liberated energy of this kind, it then receives the most true plenitudes of intellections, from which it emits the true divination of divine dreams, and derives the most genuine principles of knowledge.

(27) And therefore when a Man sleeps, so that the Tincture rests, then there are no Thoughts in the Spirit; but the Constellation Air, or Receptacle. rumbles in the Elements, and beats into the Brains what shall (through their Operation) come to pass, which yet is often broke again by another Conjunction, so that it comes not to effect; besides, it can show nothing exactly, except it comes by a Conjunction of Planets and fixed Stars, and that only goes forward, but it represents all [in an] earthly [Manner,] according to the Spirit of this World; so that where the syderial Spirit should speak of Men, it often speaks of Beasts, and continually represents the Contrary; as the earthly Spirit fancies from the starry Spirit, so he dreams.

(5) One night a bat was heard to say: ' How is it that I am unable even for a moment to see the sun? All my life I have been

in despair because not for an instant can I be lost in him. For months and years I have flown hither and thither with my eyes shut, and here I am!' A contemplative said: 'You are beset with pride, and you still have thousands of years to travel. How can such a being as you discover the sun? Can an ant reach the moon?' 'Nevertheless,' said the bat, ' I shall still go on trying.' And so for some years it continued to search until it had neither strength nor wings. As it still had not discovered the sun it said: 'Perhaps I have flown beyond it.' A wise bird hearing this, said: 'You live in a dream; you have been going round in circles, and haven't advanced a single step; and in your pride you say you have gone beyond the sun I ' This so shocked the bat that realizing her helplessness she humbled herself completely, saying: 'You have found a bird with inner sight, go no further.'

(11) The disciple's shadow is from that bough. When the shadows in the disciples cease, For, O fortunate one, how can the shadow move, Unless the tree that casts the shadow move as well? Again, the great Creator, as you know, Thus man passed from one order of nature to another, Of his first souls he has now no remembrance, In order to escape from his present soul full of lusts Though man fell asleep and forgot his previous states, Yet God will not leave him in this self-forgetfulness;