death of this great man, some of the religious were disposed to deny his body the right of sepulture, alleging in objection, the licentiousness of his poetry; after a long dispute, they left the decision to a divination in use amongst them, by opening his book at random, and taking the first couplet which occurred: It happened to be this:

Turn not away from Hafez' bier,
Nor scornful check the pitying tear;
For tho' immers'd in sin he lies,

His soul forgiv'n to Heaven shall rise.

This passage was deemed a divine decision; the religious withdrew their objections, and he was buried in Mosella, a place rendered famous by his own verses. This anecdote, I think, is related by Kaleb Celebi. As to myself, although I am disposed to believe, that when Hafez speaks of love and wine, he has no recondite meaning, I am equally willing to declare, that his writings are not disgraced by those obscenities, nor those gross and filthy expressions, which so frequently occur in Sadi.

"whether the poems of Hafez must be taken in a literal or figurative sense: but the question does not admit of a general and direct answer; for, even the most enthusiastic of his commentators allow, "that some of them are to be taken literally, and his editors ought to "have distinguished them.Hafez never pretended to more than "human virtues, and it is known that he had human propensities;"after his juvenile passions had subsided, we may suppose, that his "mind took that religious bent, which appears in most of his compo"sitions; for there can be no doubt that the following distichs, col"lected from different odes, relate to the mystical theology of the "Sufis;" &c.

Nor

Nor can I avoid considering him a free thinker; and a hundred passages might be quoted, in which the poet ridicules the Prophet and his Coran; as for instance, when he says,

Wine, that our sober Seer proclaims
Parent of sin, and foul misnames,
With purer joy my soul beguiles,

Than beauty's bloom, or beauty's smiles.

As to the Turkish poets, I confess I do not read them with the same pleasure, although I am willing to allow that some of them have merit. In my opinion, Ruhi, of Bagdat, is the most agreeable of them all; he has written some admirable satires. Perhaps you are not acquainted with him. The Turkish poets in general, are no better than slavish imitators of the Persians, and often deficient in taste and harmony.

I cannot comprehend how you have discovered an indelicate meaning in these beautiful lines of Mesihi :

Send me not, O God, to the tomb, before I
have embraced my

friend:

unless you annex an idea of obscenity to the expression of embracing a youth; a subject which perpetually occurs not only in Oriental poetry, but in Greek and Latin. I send you a recent translation, with a request that you will return it when you are tired with it, as I have no copy.

I am, with the greatest esteem

and veneration,
Sir, &c.

*REVICZKI to Mr. JONES.

London, March 7, 1768.

I am at a loss to determine whether

your letter has afforded me most pleasure or instruction; it is indeed so admirable, that I must point out the only fault which I find in it, that of brevity, although you seem apprehensive of being thought tedious. I suspect that I am indebted to your partiality and politeness only, for the excessive encomiums which you have bestowed upon my translation of the two odes which I sent to you, as well as for the favourable opinion which you entertain of my trifles. I am, however, seriously obliged to you for your animadversions upon my inaccuracies, though when I consider their number, I must impute it to your indulgence that you have been so sparing in your corrections. Without wishing to lessen my obligations to your kindness, I cannot avoid mentioning by way way of apology, that it is only three months since I resumed the task of writing verses, which I renounced when I'left school; and not from any motive of vanity, or desire of reputation, but merely as an amusement of my leisure hours. My relapse has produced the translation of about fifty odes of our learned Hafez,

For whom, each hour a growing fondness brings †,

As by degrees the vernal alder springs.

But observing, in the progress of the work, the

* Appendix, No. 4.

These lines are taken from a juvenile translation of Sir Wm. Jones.

immense

immense inferiority of my version to the original, I began to be disgusted with it.

I recollect to have read somewhere with great pleasure, the Prelections of the Bishop of Oxford, of which you speak so highly, and which you propose to imitate, but I remember nothing more of this work, than that I thought both the style and arrangement of it, equally admirable. The Grecian and Oriental flowers scattered throughout your letter, delighted me exceedingly, and your selection of them shews your judgment. I also approve your idea of visiting the East; but previously to your undertaking it, I would recommend to you, to make yourself master of the common language of the Turks, or of the vulgar Arabic, not only as indispensably necessary to your communications with the Mohammedans, but as a means of deriving pleasure and profit from the journey.

I do not mean to apply my censures on the servile imitations of Turkish authors to every species of imitation; for in some instances the imitation, as in the case of Virgil with respect to Hesiod, has surpassed the original. Nor can Hafez himself deny the imputation of plagiarism, having actually transcribed whole lines from other poets; his collection of poems begins with an instance of this kind, for the very first hemistich is transcribed from one of Yezid*, the son of Mo

wavea,

* Yezid was the son of Mowavea, the first Caliph of the race of

Ommiah,

wavea, with an alteration only in the collocation of the words, not to mention nearly a complete ode in another place; but I am disgusted with the flat and perpetual imitation of the many Turkish poets, to whom we may aptly apply the words of Horace :

O servile herd of imitators!

Do you wish to know my opinion respecting the other Persian poets, and whether I think Hafez alone elegant? Far from it; for who can read without ecstasy the first page of Sadi? Indeed, my passion for Oriental literature was first excited by hearing the following lines of Sadi accidentally repeated by my teacher at Constantinople, who explained them to me:

All-bounteous Lord! whose providential care
E'en on thy proud rebellious sons descends;
How canst thou bid thy votaries despair,

Whose boundless mercy to thy foes extends?

But who can suppress his indignation, when he reads the wretched translation of this elegant writer, by Gentius? I acknowledge however, that I am more delighted with Hafez, who unites fine morality with cheerfulness. With respect to

Ommiah, and being reproached by his father for excessive drinking, replied as follows;

Does this thy wrath inspire, because I quaff'd

The grape's rich juice?-then doubly sweet the draught.
Rage-I will drink unmov'd, for to my soul,

Sweet is thy wrath, and sweet the flowing bowl.