Having failed in repeated expeditions against Samarkand and Ardejan, I
once more returned to Khojend. Khojend is but a small place; and it is
difficult for one to support two hundred retainers in it. How then could
a [young] man, ambitious of empire, set himself down contentedly in so
insignificant a place? As soon as I received advice that the garrison of
Ardejan had declared for me, I made no delay. And thus, by the grace of
the Most High, I recovered my paternal kingdom, of which I had been
deprived nearly two years. An order was issued that such as had
accompanied me in my campaigns might resume possession of whatever part
of their property they recognized. Although the order seemed reasonable
and just in itself, yet it was issued with too much precipitation. It
was a senseless thing to exasperate so many men with arms in their
hands. In war and in affairs of state, though things may appear just and
reasonable at first sight, no matter ought to be finally decided without
being well weighed and considered in a hundred different lights. From my
issuing this single order without sufficient foresight, what commotions
and mutinies arose! This inconsiderate order of mine was in reality the
ultimate cause of my being a second time expelled from Ardejan.
* * * * *
Baber's next campaign was most arduous, but in passing by a spring he
had the leisure to have these verses of Saadi inscribed on its brink:--
_I have heard that the exalted Jemshid
Inscribed on a stone beside a fountain:--
"Many a man like us has rested by this fountain,
And disappeared in the twinkling of an eye.
Should we conquer the whole world by our manhood and strength,
Yet could we not carry it with us to the grave."_
Of another fountain he says:--"I directed this fountain to be built
round with stone, and formed a cistern. At the time when the _Arghwan_
flowers begin to blow, I do not know that any place in the world is to
be compared to it." On its sides he engraved these verses:--
_Sweet is the return of the new year;
Sweet is the smiling spring;
Sweet is the juice of the mellow grape;
Sweeter far the voice of love.
Strive, O Baber! to secure the joys of life,
Which, alas! once departed, never more return._
From these flowers Baber and his army marched into the passes of the
high mountains.