Literary History of Persia

I. Between A.D. 1500 and 1600 (A.H. 906-1009).
Several of the poets who really belong to this period have been already mentioned in my Persian Literature under Tartar Dominion, namely, Mír ‘Alí Shír Nawá’í, d. 906/1500-1 (pp. 505-6); Ḥusayn Wá‘iẓ-i-Káshifí, d. 910/1504-5 (pp. 503-4); Banná’í, killed in the massacre at Qarshí in 918/1512-3 (p. 457); and Hilálí, killed by ‘Ubaydu’lláh Khán the Uzbek as a Shí‘a in 936/1529-30 (p. 459). Of the last-named only need anything further be said here.
1. Hátifí (d. 927/Dec. 1520 or Jan. 1521).
Mawláná ‘Abdu’lláh Hátifí of Kharjird in Khurásán derives his chief fame from the fact that he was the nephew of the great Jámí, who, according to the well-known story⁴³⁷, tested his poetical talent before allowing him to write by bidding him compose
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a “parallel” to the following verses in Firdawsí’s celebrated satire⁴³⁸ on Sulṭán Maḥmúd of Ghazna:

“A tree whereof the nature is bitter, even if thou plantest it in the Garden of Paradise,

And if, at the time of watering, thou pourest on its roots nectar and

fine honey from the River of Paradise⁴³⁹,

It will in the end give effect to its nature, and bring forth that same bitter fruit.”

Hátifí produced the following “parallel,” which his uncle Jámí approved, except that he jocularly observed that the neophyte had “laid a great many eggs on the way⁴⁴⁰”:

“If thou -should’st place an egg of the crow compounded of darkness

under the Peacock of the Garden of Paradise,

And if at the time of nourishing that egg thou should’st give it grain

from the Fig-tree of the Celestial Gardens,

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And should’st water it from the Fountain of Salsabíl, and Gabriel

should breathe his breath into that egg,

In the end the crow’s egg will become a crow, and vain will be the

trouble of the Peacock of Paradise.”

Hátifí was one of the innumerable poets who strove to compose a “Quintet” (Khamsa) rivalling that of Niẓámí of Ganja. Two of his five subjects were the same, the romances of Laylá and Majnún⁴⁴¹ and of Shírín and Khusraw; the Haft Manẓar formed the parallel to the Haft Paykar; while the Tímúr-náma⁴⁴² formed the counterpart to the Sikandar-náma, except that, as Hátifí boasts⁴⁴³, his poem was based on historical truth instead of on fables and legends. He also began, but did not complete, a similar historical poem on the achievements of Sháh Isma‘íl the Ṣafawí, who paid him a surprise visit as he was returning from a campaign in Khurásán in 917/1511-12. This poem is in the style and metre of the Sháh-náma of Firdawsí, and is entitled Sháh-náma-i-Haẓrat-i-Sháh Isma’íl⁴⁴⁴.

Hátifí belongs essentially, like so many other representatives of Art and Letters in the early Ṣafawí -period, to the circle of Herát formed under the liberal patronage of the later Tímúrids.

2. Bábá Fighání of Shíráz (d. 925/1519).
Fighání appears to be one of those poets who are much more highly esteemed in India than in their own country, for while Shiblí in his Shi‘ru’l-‘Ajam (vol. iii, pp. 27-30), like Wálih in his Riyáḍu’sh-Shu‘ará⁴⁴⁵, deems him the creator of a new style of poetry,
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Riḍá-qulí Khán only accords him a brief mention in his Riyáḍu’l-‘Árifín⁴⁴⁶ and entirely omits him in his larger Majma‘u’l-Fuṣaḥá, while the notices of him in the Átash-kada and the Tuḥfa-i-Sámí are very brief. He was of humble origin, the son of a cutler⁴⁴⁷ or a vintner according to different accounts, and seems to have lived the life of a somewhat antinomian dervish. In Khurásán, whither he went from Shíráz, he was unappreciated, even by the great Jámí, with whom he forgathered; but at Tabríz he subsequently found a more appreciative patron in Sulṭán Ya‘qúb the Prince of the “White Sheep” Turkmáns. He repented in later life and retired to the Holy City of Mashhad, so that perhaps this verse of his ceased to be applicable:

Stained with wine Fighání sank into the earth: alas if the Angels

should sniff at his fresh shroud⁴⁴⁸!”

The longest extracts from his poems are given in the Majálisu’l-Mú’minín, but these are all qaṣídas in praise of ‘Alí, presumably composed towards the end of his life, and, though they may suffice to prove him a good Shí‘a, they are hardly of a quality to establish his reputation as a great poet.

3. Ummídí (or Umídí) of Ṭihrán (d. 925/1519 or 930/1523-4).
Little is known of Umídí except that his proper name was Arjásp⁴⁴⁹, that he was a pupil of the celebrated philosopher
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Jalálu’d-Dín Dawání, that his skill was in the qaṣída rather than the ghazal, that he was on bad terms with his fellow-townsmen, on whom he wrote many satires, and that he was finally killed in Ṭihrán in a quarrel about a piece of land, at the instigation of Qiwámu’d-Dín Núr-bakhshí. Námí, one of his pupils, composed the following verses and chronogram on his death:

“The much-wronged Umídí, wonder of the Age, who suddenly and

contrary to right became a martyr,

Appeared to me at night in a dream and said, ‘O thou who art

aware of my inward state,

Write for the date of my murder⁴⁵⁰: “Alas for my blood unjustly shed, alas!” ’ ”
Reference has already been made (p. 59 supra) to a qaṣída composed by him in praise of Najm-i-Thání, and probably his poetry consisted chiefly of panegyrics, though he also wrote a Sáqí-náma (“Book of the Cup-bearer”) of the stereotyped form. Manuscripts of his poems are very rare, but there is one in the British Museum⁴⁵¹, comprising, however, only 17 leaves, and even these few poems were collected long after his death by command of Sháh Ṣafí. Mention is, however, made of him in most of the tadhkiras, and the Átash-kada cites 24 verses from his Sáqí-náma,
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and 70 verses from his other poems. Amongst these are the following, also given in the Majma‘u’l-Fuṣaḥá (vol. ii pp. 7-8):

“If the College hall should be turned upside down it matters little;

but may no injury befall the halls of the Wine-houses of Love!

The College buildings, high and low, were destroyed, while the

taverns continued to flourish just the same.”

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Thou art a half-drunk Turk, I am a half-slain bird⁴⁵²; thy affair with

me is easy, my desire of thee is difficult.

Thou settest thy foot in the field, I wash my hands of life; thou

causest sweat to drip from thy cheek, I pour blood from my heart.

Behind that traveller in weakness and helplessness I rise up and

subside like the dust until the halting-place [is reached].

When shall the luck be mine to lift him drunken from the saddle,

while that crystal-clear arm embraces my neck like a sword-belt?

Thou bearest a dagger and a goblet: the faithful with one accord

drink blood beside thee and give their lives before thee.

Now that my scroll of praise is rolled up, hearken to the tale of Ray:

it is a ruin wherein a madman is governor:

A madman on whom counsel produced no effect; a madman whom

chains did not render sensible.

He is a madman full of craft, my old enemy; be not secure of him,

and be not heedless of me.

From the arbiter of eloquence this point is hidden, that a distracted

mind is not disposed to verse.

My genius would snatch the ball⁴⁵³ of verse from all and sundry, if

only the bailiff were not in my house!”

4 and 5. The two Ahlís.
These two homonymous poets, the one of Turshíz in Khurásán (d. 934/1527-8) and the other of Shíráz (d. 942/1535-6), of both of whom the names are more familiar than the works, must, as Rieu has pointed out⁴⁵⁴, be carefully distinguished. Both are ignored by Riḍá-qulí Khán, and both belong,
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the former actually, the latter spiritually, to the Herát school which gathered round Sulṭán Ḥusayn and Mír ‘Alí Shír. This school, to which also belonged Ẓuhúrí (d. 1024/1615), likewise of Turshíz, seems never to have been popular in Persia, except, perhaps, in their own day in Khurásán, but enjoys a much more considerable reputation in India, where Ẓuhári, whose very name is almost unknown in Persia, enjoys an extraordinary, and, as I think, quite undeserved fame, especially as a writer of extremely florid and bombastic prose. Ahlí of Shíráz excelled especially in elaborately ingenious word-plays (tajnísát) and other rhetorical devices.

6. Hilálí (killed in 935/1528-9).
Hilálí, though born in Astarábád, the chief town of the Persian Province of Gurgán, was by race a Chaghatáy Turk, and was in his youth patronized by Mír ‘Alí Shír Nawá’í. His most famous poem, entitled Sháh u Darwísh, or Sháh u Gadá (“the King and the Beggar”), has been harshly criticized by Bábur himself⁴⁵⁵ and in later times by Sprenger⁴⁵⁶, but warmly defended by Ethé, who translated it into German verse⁴⁵⁷. He composed another mathnawí poem entitled Ṣifátu’l-‘Áshiqín (“the Attributes of Lovers”) and a number of odes collected into a Díwán. Riḍá-qulí Khán says⁴⁵⁸ that in Khurásán he was regarded as a Shí‘a, but in ‘Iráq as a Sunní. Unhappily for him ‘Ubaydu’lláh Khán, the fanatical Uzbek, took the former view, and caused him to be put to death as a “Ráfiḍí.” It is curious, in view of this, that he is not mentioned in the Majálisu’l-Mú’minín amongst the Shí‘a poets; and perhaps, as asserted in the Haft Iqlím, the
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envy of two of his rivals at the Uzbek Court, Baqá’í and Shamsu’d-Dín Kúhistání, rather than his religious views, may have caused his execution, which ‘Ubaydu’lláh Khán is said to have subsequently regretted. The following verses, however, seem to indicate Shí‘a propensities:

“Muhammad the Arabian, the honour of both worlds: dust be upon

the head of him who is not as dust at his Door!

I have heard that his life-sustaining ruby lip uttered, like the Messiah,

this tradition:

‘I am the City of Knowledge and ‘Alí is my Door’: a marvellously

blessed tradition! I am the dog of his Door⁴⁵⁹!”

7. Lisání (d. 940/1533-4).
Lisání of Shíráz is the last of the twenty-two Persian Shí‘a poets mentioned in the Majálisu’l-Mú’minín and deserves mention rather on account of his devotion to that faith than by reason of his poetic talent; for, although he is said to have produced more than 100,000 verses, they are little known and seldom met with⁴⁶⁰, and, though mentioned in the Átash-kada and the Haft Iqlím, he is ignored by Riḍá-qulí Khán. Most of his life was spent at Baghdád and Tabríz, in which latter
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town he died just before it was taken by the Ottoman Sulṭán Sulaymán. “On account of his devotion to the Twelve Imáms,” says the author of the Majális, “Lisání would never remove from his head the twelve-gored kingly crown⁴⁶¹ until, when Sulṭán Sulaymán the Turk was advancing to occupy Tabríz, it happened that news of his near approach reached Lisání when he was engaged in prayer in the great Mosque of Tabríz. On hearing this news, he raised his hands in prayer, saying, ‘O God, this usurper is coming to Tabríz: I cannot remove this crown from my head, nor reconcile myself to witnessing his triumph, therefore suffer me to die, and bring me to the Court of Thy Mercy!’ He then bowed his head in prayer, and in that attitude surrendered his soul to the Beloved.” The following quatrain is characteristic:

“If the joints of Lisání break apart, and his needy body passes into the dust,

By God, from the horizon of his heart naught will appear save the love [or sun]

of ‘Alí and his eleven descendants!”
His poems, in the preservation of which he seems to have been very careless, were collected after his death by his pupil Sharíf of Tabríz, but so slovenly was the compilation that, according to the Átash-kada, it was known as Sahwu’l-Lisán, or “Lapsus Linguae.”

8. Fuḍúlí (Fuẓúlí) of Baghdád (d. 970/1562-3).
Fuḍúlí is reckoned amongst the Turkish rather than the Persian poets, and is fully discussed by Gibb in vol. iii of his monumental History of Ottoman Poetry (ch. iv, pp. 70-107). That he became an Ottoman subject was due to the fact that Baghdád,
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where he was probably born, and where he spent nearly all his life, was taken from the Persians by the Turks in 940/1535; but, as Gibb says⁴⁶², “he composed with equal ease and elegance in Turkish, Persian, and Arabic.” He is described by the same scholar⁴⁶³ as “the earliest of those four great poets who stand pre-eminent in the older literature of Turkey, men who in any age and in any nation would have taken their place amongst the Immortals.” That his status in the Persian Parnassus is so much lower is due rather to the greater competition and higher standard of excellence prevailing there than to any lack of skill on his part in the use of the Persian language.⁴⁶⁴ That he was of the Shí‘a faith is clear from several of his verses, and from his Ḥadíqatu’s-Su‘adá⁴⁶⁵, a Turkish martyrology modelled on the Persian Rawḍatu’sh-Shuhadá of Ḥusayn Wá‘iẓ-i-Káshifí.

As I have referred to Gibb’s great work on Ottoman Poetry, I may here express a doubt as to his claim⁴⁶⁶ that the kind of poem entitled Shahr-angíz (or “City-thriller,” as he renders it) is a Turkish invention, and that “there is no similar poem in Persian literature.” Sám Mírzá in his Tuḥfa-i-Sámí (compiled in 957/15 50) mentions at least two poets, Waḥídí of Qum and Ḥarfí of Iṣfahán, who composed such poems, the former on Tabríz, the latter on Gílán, and though these were probably written later than Masíḥí’s Turkish Shahr-angíz on Adrianople, there is nothing to suggest that they were regarded as a novelty or innovation in Persia. Ḥarfi’s poem, called Shahr-áshúb (“City-disturber”) seems to have been bitterly satirical, for the

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unhappy poet was deprived of his tongue in consequence, as Sám Mírzá relates:


9. Waḥshí of Báfq (d. 991/1583).
Though born at Báfq, a dependency of Kirmán, Waḥshí spent most of his life at Yazd. His poetry, especially his Farhád u Shírín and his ghazals, are highly praised in the Ta’ríkh-i-‘Álam-árá-yi-‘Abbásí, the Átash-kada, and the Majma‘u’l-Fuṣaḥá⁴⁶⁷. He also wrote panegyrics on Sháh Ṭahmásp and his nobles, concerning which the author of the work last-named remarks that in this branch of the poetic art none of the poets of the middle period can compare with the ancients. He did not finish the Farhád u Shírín, which was completed long afterwards (in 1265/1848-9) by Wiṣál. He wrote two other mathnawí poems, the Khuld-i-Barín (“Supreme Abode of Bliss”) and Náẓir u Manẓúr, besides ghazals (odes) and qiṭ‘as (fragments), a large selection of which are given in the Majma’u’l-Fuṣaḥá and the Átash-kada (pp. 111-120)⁴⁶⁸. The following murabba‘, or “foursome,” given in both these anthologies, is rather pretty and unusual.

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“O friends, hearken to the account of my distraction! Hearken to the tale of my hidden sorrow! Hearken to the story of my disordered state! Hearken to my description of my bewilderment! How long shall I hide the account of this grievous story? I burn! I burn! How long shall I refrain from telling this secret?

For a while I and my heart dwelt in a certain street: the street of a certain quarrelsome beauty. We had staked Faith and heart on one of dissolute countenance; we were fettered in the chains of one with chain-like tresses. In that chain was none bound save me and my heart: of all that exist, not one was captive then.

Her bewitching narcissus-eyes had not then all these love-sick victims; her curling hyacinthine locks held then no prisoner; she had not then so brisk a business and so many customers; she was a Joseph [in beauty] but found no purchaser. I was the first to become a purchaser; it was I who caused the briskness of her market.

My love was the cause of her beauty and comeliness; my shame gave fame to her beauty; so widely did I everywhere describe her charms that the whole city was filled with the tumult of the spectators. Now she has many distracted lovers, how should she think or care for poor distracted me?

Since it is so, it is better that we should pursue some other aim, that we should become the sweet-voiced songsters of some other rose-bower, that we should become the nightingales of some other rose-cheeked beauty, that for a few days we should follow some other charmer. Where is some fresh young rose whose eloquent nightingale I may become, and whom I may [thus] distinguish amongst the youthful beauties of the garden?

Although the fancy for thy face hath passed away from Waḥshí’s mind, and the desire for thy charming figure hath departed from his heart, and one vexed in heart hath departed in vexation from thy street, and with a heart full of complaints hath departed from the displeasure of thy countenance, God forbid that I should forget thy constancy, or should listen to man’s counsels of expediency!”

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10. Maḥmúd Qárí of Yazd (d. 993/1585).

11. Muḥtasham. of Káshán (d. 996/1587-8).
Maḥmúd Qárí of Yazd, the poet of clothes, who died two years after Waḥshí and three years before Muḥtasham, was mentioned in the preceding volume of this work⁴⁶⁹ in connection with the two earlier parodists ‘Ubayd-i-Zákání and Busḥaq (Abú Isḥáq) of Shíráz; while the far more notable Muḥtasham has been already discussed at some length in the preceding chapter⁴⁷⁰ in connection with the religious poetry on which his fame chiefly rests. Of the erotic verse of his early youth and of his panegyrics on Sháh Ṭahmásp copious specimens are given in the Átash-kada, but these are neither so distinguished nor so characteristic as his elegies (maráthí) on the martyrdom of Ḥusayn and the other Imáms, from which the extracts given in the Majma‘u’l-Fuṣaḥá⁴⁷¹ are chiefly taken.

12. ‘Urfí of Shíráz (d. 999/1590-1) and his circle.
Though less highly appreciated in his own country than in Turkey and India, ‘Urfí is probably on the whole the most famous and popular poet of his century⁴⁷². Though born and brought up in Shíráz, his short life was chiefly spent in India, where he died in 999/1590-1 at the early age of thirty-six, some say of dysentery, others of poison. He is one of the three poets of this century (A.D. 1500-1600) discussed by Shiblí Nu‘mání in his Shi’ru’l-‘Ajam⁴⁷³, the other two being his
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fellow-townsman Bábá Fighání, already mentioned⁴⁷⁴, and Fayḍí (Fayẓí), brother of Akbar’s celebrated minister Abu’l-Faḍl (Abu’l-Faẓl), who, in Shiblí’s opinion, was one of the two Indian poets who wrote Persian verse which would pass as the work of a genuine Persian⁴⁷⁵. ‘Abdu’l-Qádir Badá’úní says⁴⁷⁶ that ‘Urfí and Thaná’í were the two most popular Persian poets in India in his time, and that manuscripts of their works were to be found in every bazaar and book-shop, while Fayḍí’s poems, in spite of the large sums of money which he had expended in having them beautifully copied and illuminated, were little sought after. Gibb says⁴⁷⁷ that, after Jámí, ‘Urfí and Fayḍí were the chief Persian influences on Turkish poetry until they were superseded by Ṣá’ib, and that “the novelty in this style lay, apart from the introduction of a number of fresh terms into the conventional vocabulary of poetry, in the deposition of rhetoric from the chief seat, and the enthronement of loftiness of tone and stateliness of language in its stead⁴⁷⁸.” Ẓiyá (Ḍiyá) Pasha, in that portion of his metrical Introduction to the Kharábát which discusses the Persian poets, after praising Jámí, proceeds to speak of ‘Urfí and Fayḍí as follows:

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“Fayḍí and ‘Urfí run neck-and-neck; they are the leaders of the later time.

In Fayḍí is eloquence and freshness, in ‘Urfí sweetness and fluency.

In Fayḍí are fiery exhortations, while ‘Urfí is strong in elegies.

But if pre-eminence he sought, excellence still remains with Fayḍí.

Fayḍí is clear throughout: no dots need be added to his commentary.

But that paragon of excellence suffered martyrdom at his pupil’s hands.”

I can find no evidence in support of the last statement, which, indeed, is at variance with Badá’úní’s exultant description⁴⁷⁹ of his painful and unpleasant death⁴⁸⁰, though perhaps the swollen face and blackened lips, which his bitter enemy describes with unconcealed Schadenfreude, may have aroused suspicions of poison. The same fanatical writer gives a series of most uncomplimentary chronograms composed by the orthodox to commemorate the death of an arch-heretic, such as:

“When infidel Fayḍí died, Faṣíḥ said as the date of his death, ‘A dog

departed from the world in a foul fashion.’”

The simplest of them all are “Fayḍí was a heretic,” “he died like a dog-worshipper” and “the rule of heresy broke” all of which yield the required date A.H. 1004 (A.D. 1595). Badá’úní also says that, with a view to restoring his shattered religious reputation, he composed a commentary on the Qur’án consisting entirely of undotted letters, adding unkindly that he was drunk and in a state of legal uncleanness when be wrote it. The author of the Majma‘u’l-
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Fuṣaḥá⁴⁸¹ in alluding to this book (which he only knew by repute) says that the author “troubled himself to no purpose” , and has no word of praise for his poems, on which the author of the Átash-kada has the tepid encomium that “they are not bad.” The fullest and most appreciative account of him which I have met with is that given by Shiblí Nu‘mání in his Shi’ru’l-’Ajam⁴⁸². He composed a Khamsa (“Quintet”) in imitation of Niẓámí, the titles of these five poems being Markaz-i-Adwár, Sulaymán u Bilqís, Nal u Daman (the most celebrated), Haft Kishwar, and Akbar-náma, but some of them remained incomplete. He also wrote many qaṣídas and ghazals, and produced several translations from the Sanskrit. None of his verses quoted by Shiblí appear to me so affecting as the following on the death of his child

“O brightness of my bright eyes, how art thou?

Without thee my days are dark; without me how art thou?

My house is a house of mourning in thine absence;

thou hast made thine abode beneath the dust: how art thou?

The couch and pillow of thy sleep is on thorns and brambles:

O thou whose cheeks and body were as jasmine, how art thou?”

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Fayḍí was a man of varied learning and a great lover of books. His library contained four thousand six hundred choice manuscripts, mostly autographs or copied during the authors’ lifetimes⁴⁸³. He was generous and hospitable, and amongst those who enjoyed his hospitality was ‘Urfí of Shíráz, to whom we now turn.

‘Urfí, whose proper name was Jamálu’d-Dín Muḥammad and whose father was named Badru’d-Dín, was born and educated at Shíráz, but at an early age migrated to India, and, as already mentioned, attached himself to Fayḍí, with whom, however, he presently quarrelled. Badá’úní says⁴⁸⁴ that one day he called on Fayḍí and found him caressing a puppy, whereupon he enquired what the name of “the young master” (makhdúm-záda) might be. “‘Urfí,” replied Fayḍí, to which ‘Urfí promptly replied, “Mubárak báshad!” which means “May it be fortunate!” but may be taken as alluding to Fayḍí’s father Shaykh Mubárak and as meaning, “It should be Mubárak!”

‘Urfí next won the favour of the Ḥakím Abu’l-Fatḥ of Gílán⁴⁸⁵, by whom he was introduced to that great nobleman and patron of letters ‘Abdu’r-Raḥím, who succeeded to the title of Khán-Khánán borne by his father Bayram Khán on the assassination of the latter in 96811560-1. In due course he was presented to the Emperor Akbar himself, whom he accompanied on his march to Cashmere in 997/1588-9.

In spite of his opportunities and undoubted talents, ‘Urfí’s intolerable conceit and arrogance prevented him from being popular, and made him many enemies. Riḍá-qulí Khán accords him but a brief notice⁴⁸⁶, and observes that “the style of his poems is not admired by the people of this age.” Criticism

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and disparagement are, indeed, courted by a poet who could write⁴⁸⁷:

“Wherefore did Sa‘dí glory in a handful of the earth of Shíráz

If he did not know that it would be my birthplace and abode?”

Nor is this an isolated example of his conceit, for in like fashion he vaunts his superiority to Anwarí, Abu’l-Faraj, Kháqání, and other great Persian poets, and this unamiable practice may have conduced to his unpopularity amongst his compatriots, who do not readily tolerate such disparagement of the national heroes. In Turkey, on the other hand, he had, as we have seen, a great influence and reputation, and likewise in India, so that Shiblí devotes to him fifty-two pages (pp. 82-133) of his Shi‘ru’l-‘Ajam, rather more than he devotes to Fayḍí, and much more than he gives to any other of the seven poets he mentions in the third volume of his work. But even Shiblí admits that his arrogance made him generally unpopular, a fact of which he was fully aware, as appears from the following poem⁴⁸⁸, wherein he complains of the hypocritical sympathy of the so-called “friends” who came to visit him when he was confined to bed by a severe illness:

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“My body hath fallen into this state, and my eloquent friends stand

like pulpits round my bed and pillow.

One draws his hand through his beard and cocks his neck, saying,

‘O life of thy father! To whom is fortune constant?

One should not set one’s heart on ignoble rank and wealth: where is the

Empire of Jamshíd and the name of Alexander?’

Another, with soft voice and sad speech, begins, drawing his sleeve across his moist eyes:

‘O my life! All have this road by which they must depart: we are all travellers

on the road, and time bears forward the riders.’

Another, adorning his speech with smooth words, says, ‘O thou whose

death is the date of the revolution of news (inqiláb-i-khabar)!⁴⁸⁹
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Collect thyself, and beware, let not thy heart be troubled, for I will with

single purpose collect thy verse and prose.

After copying and correcting it, I will compose an introduction like a casket of pearls

in support of thy claims;

An index of learning and culture such as thou art, a compendium of good qualities and

talents such as thou art,

I will pour forth, applying myself both to verse and prose, although it is not within

the power of man to enumerate thy perfections!’

‘May God, mighty and glorious, give me health again, and thou shalt see

what wrath I will pour on the heads of these miserable hypocrites!’⁴⁹⁰”

Space does not allow us to follow in detail Shiblí’s interesting and exhaustive study of this poet, to whose verse he assigns six salient merits, such as “forceful diction” , new and original combinations of words, fine metaphors and comparisons, and continuity or congruity of topics . Except for a little-known prose treatise on Ṣúfíism entitled Nafsiyya all his work was in verse, and included, according to Shiblí, two mathnawí poems in imitation of Niẓámí’s Makhzanu’l-Asrár and Khusraw wa Shírín, and a Díwán, compiled in 996/1588, only three years before his death, containing 26 qaṣídas, 270 ghazals, and 700 fragments and quatrains. The following chronogram gives the date of its compilation⁴⁹¹:

One of his most famous qaṣídas, given in the Kharábát (vol. i, pp. 169-I74), is in praise of ‘Alí ibn Abí Ṭálib, and contains 181 verses. It begins:
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“I have wandered through the world, but alas! no city or country

have I seen where they sell good fortune in the market!”

‘Urfí is not, however, included amongst the Persian Shí‘a poets to whom notices are consecrated in the Majálisu’l-Mú’minín.
Concerning the numerous Persians — theologians, scholars, philosophers and poets — attracted to Akbar’s brilliant court, the third volume of Badá’úní’s Muntakhabu’t-Tawáríkh is a mine of information, but space will not permit us as a rule to go beyond the frontiers of the Persian Empire. The late Mr Vincent Smith in his otherwise admirable monograph on Akbar⁴⁹² is perhaps unduly hard on, these poets when he says (pp. 415-6):
“The versifiers, or so-called poets, were extremely numerous. Abu’l-Faẓl tells us that although Akbar did not care for them, ‘thousands of poets are continually at court, and many among them have completed a díwán (collection of artificial odes), or have written a mathnawí (composition in rhymed couplets).’ The author then proceeds to enumerate and criticize ‘the best among them,’ numbering 59, who had been presented at court. He further names 15 others who had not been presented but had sent encomiums to His Majesty from various places in Persia⁴⁹³. Abu’l-Faẓl gives many extracts from the writings of the select 59, which I have read in their English dress, without finding a single sentiment worth quoting; although the extracts include passages from the works of his brother Fayẓí (Fayḍí), the ‘king of poets,’ which Abu’l-Faẓl considered to enshrine ‘gems of thought.’”
The third volume of Badá’úní’s Muntakhabu’t-Tawáríkh, which is entirely devoted to the biographies of the poets and men of learning who adorned Akbar’s court, contains notices of 38 Shaykhs (religious leaders), 69 scholars, 15 philosophers and phy-
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sicians, and no fewer than 167 poets, most of whom, however, though they wrote in Persian and were in many cases Persians by birth, are unknown even by name in Persia.

Amongst the most eminent names belonging, in part at any rate, to the century which we here conclude, are those of Shaykh Bahá’u’d-Dín ‘Ámilí, Mullá Muḥsin-i-Fayḍ (Fayẓ) of Káshán, Mír Dámád, and Mír Abu’l-Qásim-i-Findariskí, who, however, will be more suitably considered amongst the theologians or philosophers.