... Praise to the Creator of all, the secret of whose
existence is unknown; who hath marked all His creatures with
an imprint, though there be no visible imprint of Himself;
who is the Soul of the soul; who is hidden in that which
is hidden!... Though the firmament open its myriad million
eyes in the darkness, it may not behold Him. Yet does
the Sun nightly bow his face of flame below the west, in
worship; monthly the Moon faints away in astonishment at His
greatness.... Eternally the Ocean lifts its thousand waves
to proclaim His glory; Fire seeks to rise to Him; Winds
whisper of His mystery.... And in the balance of His justice
even a sigh hath weight....
In the first recital of the First Book of the Gulistan, treating of the
Conduct of Kings, it is said that a Persian monarch condemned with his
own lips a prisoner of war, and commanded that he be put to death.
And the prisoner, being still in the force of youth and the fullness of
strength, thought within his heart of all the days he might otherwise
have lived, of all the beauty he might have caressed, of all the
happiness he might have known, of all the hopes unbudded that might
have ripened into blossom for him. Thus regretting, and seeing before
him only the blind and moonless night of death, and considering that
the fair sun would never rise for him again, he cursed the king in
the language of malediction of his own country, loudly and with mad
passion. For it is a proverb: "Whosoever washeth his hands of life,
truly saith all that is within his heart."
Now the king, hearing the vehemence of the man, but nowise
understanding the barbaric tongue which he spoke, questioned his first
vizier, asking, "What saith the dog?"
But the vizier, being a kindly-hearted man, answered thus: "O Master,
he repeateth the words of the Holy Book, the words of the Prophet of
God concerning those who repress their anger and pardon injury, the
beloved of Allah."
And the king, hearing and believing these words, felt his heart moved
within him; the fire of his anger died out, and the spirit of pity
entered into him, so that he revoked his own command and forgave the
man, and ordered that he should be set free.
But there was another vizier also with the king, a malevolent and
cunning-eyed man, knowing all languages, and ever seeking to obtain
elevation by provoking the misfortune of others. This vizier, assuming
therefore an austere face like to that of a praying dervish, loudly
exclaimed: "Ill doth it become trusted ministers of a king, men of
honorable place, such as we are, to utter in the presence of our master
even so much as one syllable of untruth. Know, therefore, O Master,
that the first vizier hath untruthfully interpreted the prisoner's
words; for that wretch uttered no single pious word, but evil and
blasphemous language concerning thee, cursing his king in the impotency
of his rage."
But the king's brows darkened when he heard the words; and turning
terrible eyes upon the second vizier, he said unto him: "More pleasant
to my ears was the lie uttered by my first vizier, than the truth
spoken by thy lips; for he indeed uttered a lie with a good and
merciful purpose, whereas thou didst speak the truth for a wicked and
malignant purpose. Better the lie told for righteous ends than the
truth which provoketh evil! Neither shall my pardon be revoked; but as
for thee, let me see thy face no more!"