THE DIVAN OF HAFIZ.*

IN considering a new translation of the work of a famous Persian poet, one question inevitably arises. What is the peculiar quality possessed by this kind of literature which

makes its interest permanent ? To answer this question in a word, even with Gargantna's month, would be impossible.

But by attempting some sort of analysis, or even catalogue, of the essential characteristics of the poetry of Hafiz, some answer to the question may be arrived at. He would be a bold critic who would presume to settle the vexed question of the real meaning of the doctrine of the Sufis. Whether the wine and the love of which the poets of this sect sing were real or mystical might indeed admit of a "wide solution."

But even if this question were settled, the farther doubt remains : Was Hafiz a real Sufi, or did his admirers, for the sake of their poet's reputation, pretend that he was one ? External facts help very little, for but little is known of the life of Hafiz. One fact, however, is significant. The poet was protected by Shah Shndja, who revoked the edict against wine-drinking, and seems to have indulged in writing poetry and wild dissipation. But if it is impossible to read Hafiz, and mentally turn his wine and love into their mystical equiva- lents, still less are we able to feel that the poet had no thoughts beyond "eat and drink, for to-morrow we die."

In considering Persian poetry, no greater mistake could be made than by insisting that the true meaning must refer either to the pleasures of sense or to the exaltations of the spirit, and that the two things cannot exist together. The

very essence of the kind of poetry with which we are dealing is that in it mystical exaltation and sensuous ecstasy are inex-

tricably entwined. To some people, no doubt, this fusion is repulsive, or even nonsensical. But there exists a certain number of people to whom this peculiar atmosphere, when conjured up by a great artist, is highly attractive. It is to the existence of this mystical inspiration drawn from two sources—the joy of the world, and the haunting mystery of what lies beyond—that we owe the fascination of Hafiz. As an example of this we quote from Miss Bell's translation of one of the odes :—

" The rose has flushed red, the bud has burst, And drunk with joy is the nightingale— Hail, Sufis ! lovers of wine, all hail ! For wine is proclaimed to a world athirst. Like a rock your repentance seemed to you ; Behold the marvel ! of what avail Was your rock, for a goblet has cleft it in two !

Bring wine for the king and the slave at the gate, Alike for all is the banquet spread,

And drunk and sober are warmed and fed. When the feast is done and the night grows late, And the second door of the tavern gapes wide, The low and the mighty must bow the head

'Neath the archway of Life, to meet what outside P Except thy road through affliction pass, None may reach the halting-station of mirth; God's treaty : Am I not Lord of the earth ? Man sealed with a sigh : Ah yes, alas ! Nor with Is nor Is Not let thy mind contend; Rest assured all perfection of mortal birth In the great Is Not at the last shall end."

Some readers may wish to pursue further the question of Sufism with all its worldly images and spiritual significations, as well as the further question as to how far Hafiz was a Sufi. For them Miss Bell has discussed the matter in a very interesting introduction to her translations. As to the latter question, Miss Bell says :-

"How far the Divan of Hafiz can be said to embody these doctrines, each reader must decide for himself, and each will probably arrive at a different conclusion. Between the judgment of Jami, that Hafiz was undoubtedly an eminent Sufi, and that of Von Hammer, who, playing u; .n his names, declared that the Sun of the Faith gave but an uncertain light, and the Interpreter of Secrets interpreted only the language of pleasure,—between these two there is a wide field for differences of opinion. For my part, I cannot agree entirely either with Jami or with Von Hammer. Partly, perhaps, owing to the wise guidance of Sheikh Mahmud Attar, partly to a natural freedom of spirit, Hafiz seems to me to rise above the narrow views of his co-religionists, and to look upon the world from a wider standpoint Of the two con- clusions that are commonly drawn from the statement that tomorrow we die, Hafiz accepted neither unmodified by the other. .• Eat and drink,' seemed to him a poor solution of the mysterious purpose of human life, and an unsatisfactory sign- Poems from the Divas of Hafts. Translated by Gertrude Lowthian Boll. London: William Heinemanu.

post to happiness ; 'the abode of pleasure,' he says, 'was never reached except through pain.' On the other hand, he was equally unwilling to despise the good things of this world."

Indeed, Hafiz might say with the fool in Twelfth Night," Dost thou think because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale." Whether we care to probe this question or not we can gladly lose ourselves in the wandering mazes of the Persian poet's imagery. What can give us a more delightful feeling of the freedom and largeness of the life of out-of-doors than the following verse :—

"And wine ! bring me wine, the giver of mirth ! To-day the beggar may boast him a king, His banqueting-hall is the ripening field, And his tent the shadow that soft clouds fling."

Or what can be more haunting than-

" Singer, sweet singer, fresh notes strew,

Fresh and afresh and new and new ! Heart-gladdening wine thy lips imbrue. Fresh and afresh and new and new !"

To some minds these poems will offer few attractions. As Miss Bell says :—

" Few of us will turn to Hafiz for wisdom and comfort, or choose him for a guide. It is the interminable, the hopeless mysticism, the playing with words that say one thing and mean something totally different, the vagueness of a philosophy that dare not speak out, which repels the European just as much as it attracts the Oriental mind. ' Give us a working theory,' we demand. Build us imaginary mansions where our souls, fugitives from the actual, may dream themselves away '—that, seems to me, is what the Persian asks of his teacher."

Nowhere can these "imaginary mansions" be so well built

as in music. In this art the mystic has full scope. Wagner came under the influence of Hafiz, and in writing to a friend.

tells how deeply he admired this poet. It is, therefore, not fantastic to trace some of the music of "Parsifal" to the same inspiration as that of the "Divan." To compound an ecstatic rapture from spiritual mysteries and earthly sensations was the aim of both Hafiz and Wagner. Probably the musician succeeded best, for in his art the joining of the two elements is less visible. As we said before, as long as people exist with a turn in their minds towards mysticism, so long will the poetry of such poets as Hafiz have a place in literature.

All lovers of Persian poetry will be grateful to Miss Bell for her book. The translation is literal enough to preserve the true sense of the original ; at the same time the verses have a musical flow, while the introduction and the notes reveal the careful study bestowed on the work.