Persian language. "All
that you say may be very true," said the poor poet, "but I am starving,
and have no means of livelihood but by making verses. I must, therefore,
proceed." He went and stood before the governor with his ode in his
hand. "Who is that fellow?" said the Afghan lord. "And what is that
paper which he holds?" "I am a poet," answered the man, "and this paper
contains some poetry." "What is the use of poetry?" demanded the
governor. "To render great men like you immortal," he replied, making at
the same time a profound bow. "Let us hear some of it." The poet, on
this mandate, began reading his composition aloud, but he had not
finished the second stanza when he was interrupted. "Enough!" exclaimed
the governor; "I understand it all. Give the poor man some money--_that_
is what he wants." As the poet retired he met his friend, who again
commented on the folly of carrying odes to a man who did not understand
one of them. "Not understand!" he replied. "You are quite mistaken. He
has beyond all men the quickest apprehension of a _poet's meaning_!"

The khalifs were frequently lavish of their gifts to poets, but they
were fond of having their little jokes with them when in merry mood. One
day the Arabian poet Thalebi read before the khalif Al-Mansur a poem
which he had just composed, and it found acceptance. The khalif said: "O
Thalebi, which wouldst thou rather have--that I give thee 300 gold
dinars [about L150], or three wise sayings, each worth 100 dinars?" The
poet replied: "Learning, O Commander of the Faithful, is better than
transitory treasure." "Well, then," said the khalif, "the first saying
is: When thy garment grows old, sew not a new patch on it, for it hath
an ill look." "O woe!" cried the poet, "one hundred dinars are lost!"
Mansur smiled, and proceeded: "The second saying is: When thou anointest
thy beard, anoint not the lower part, for that would soil the collar of
thy vest." "Alas!" exclaimed Thalebi, "a thousand times, alas! two
hundred dinars are lost!" Again the khalif smiled, and continued: "The
third saying"--but before he had spoken it, the poet said: "O khalif of
our prosperity, keep the third maxim in thy treasury, and give me the
remaining hundred dinars, for they will be worth a thousand times more
to me than the hearing of maxims." At this the khalif laughed heartily,
and commanded his treasurer to give Thalebi five hundred dinars of gold.

A droll story is told of the Persian poet