Flowers from a Persian Garden and Other Papers | Page 7

common in Turkish and Persian poetry, and "consists of one or more words, always the same, added to the end of every rhyming line in a poem, which word or words, though counting in the scansion, are not regarded as the true rhyme, which must in every case be sought for immediately before them. The lines--
There shone such truth about thee, I did not dare to doubt thee--
furnish an example of this in English poetry." In the opening verse of Mesíhí's ode, as above transliterated in European characters, the _redíf_ is "behár," or spring, and the word which precedes it is the true rhyme-ending. Sir William Jones has made an elegant paraphrase of this charming ode, in which, however, he diverges considerably from the original, as will be seen from his rendering of the first stanza:
Hear how the nightingale, on every spray, Hails in wild notes the sweet return of May! The gale, that o'er yon waving almond blows, The verdant bank with silver blossoms strows; The smiling season decks each flowery glade-- Be gay; too soon the flowers of spring will fade.
This Turkish poet's maxim, it will be observed, was "enjoy the present day"--the carpe diem of Horace, the genial old pagan. On the same suggestive theme of Springtide a celebrated Turkish poetess, Fitnet Khánim (for the Ottoman Turks have poetesses of considerable genius as well as poets), has composed a pleasing ode, addressed to her lord, of which the following stanzas are also from Mr. Gibb's collection:
The fresh spring-clouds across all earth their glistening pearls profuse now sow; The flowers, too, all appearing, forth the radiance of their beauty show; Of mirth and joy 'tis now the time, the hour, to wander to and fro; The palm-tree o'er the fair ones' pic-nic gay its grateful shade doth throw.
_O Liege, come forth! From end to end with verdure doth the whole earth glow; 'Tis springtide once again, once more the tulips and the roses blow!_
Behold the roses, how they shine, e'en like the cheeks of maids most fair; The fresh-sprung hyacinth shows like to beauties' dark, sweet, musky hair; The loved one's form behold, like cypress which the streamlet's bank doth bear; In sooth, each side for soul and heart doth some delightful joy prepare.
_O Liege, come forth! From end to end with verdure doth the whole earth glow; 'Tis springtide once again, once more the tulips and the roses blow!_
The parterre's flowers have all bloomed forth, the roses, sweetly smiling, shine; On every side lorn nightingales, in plaintive notes discerning, pine. How fair carnation and wallflower the borders of the garden line! The long-haired hyacinth and jasmine both around the cypress twine.
_O Liege, come forth! From end to end with verdure doth the whole earth glow; 'Tis springtide once again, once more the tulips and the roses blow!_
I cannot resist the temptation to cite, in concluding this introductory paper, another fine eulogy of the delights of spring, by Amír Khusrú, of Delhi (14th century), from his _Mihra-i-Iskandar_, which has been thus rendered into rhythmical prose:
"A day in spring, when all the world a pleasing picture seemed; the sun at early dawn with happy auspices arose. The earth was bathed in balmy dew; the beauties of the garden their charms displayed, the face of each with brilliancy adorned. The flowers in freshness bloomed; the lamp of the rose acquired lustre from the breeze; the tulip brought a cup from paradise; the rose-bower shed the sweets of Eden; beneath its folds the musky buds remained, like a musky amulet on the neck of Beauty. The violet bent its head; the fold of the bud was closer pressed; the opened rose in splendour glowed, and attracted every eye; the lovely flowers oppressed with dew in tremulous motion waved. The air o'er all the garden a silvery radiance threw, and o'er the flowers the breezes played; on every branch the birds attuned their notes, and every bower with warblings sweet was filled, so sweet, they stole the senses. The early nightingale poured forth its song, that gives a zest to those who quaff the morning goblet. From the turtle's soft cooings love seized each bird that skimmed the air."

II
STORIES FROM THE "GULISTáN."
The _Gulistán_ consists of short tales and anecdotes, to which are appended comments in prose and verse, and is divided into eight chapters, or sections: (1) the Morals of Kings; (2) the Morals of Dervishes; (3) the Excellence of Contentment; (4) the Advantages of Taciturnity; (5) Love and Youth; (6) Imbecility and Old Age; (7) the Effects of Education; (8) Rules for the Conduct of Life. In culling some of the choicest flowers of this perennial Garden, the particular order observed by Saádí need not be regarded here; it is preferable to pick here a flower and there a flower, as