"O mighty Prince, whose majesty sublime Scarce deigns to mount the piebald steed of Time; Whose judgment hits the mark of empire high, As 'twere an arrow quivered in the Sky– To-day hath Heav'n arrayed his cloudy throne, The wind shoots keener shafts than Arish's own; On every mountain-angle snowflakes star The landscape, like a jewelled scimitar. And I have graced my song, as well I may, With the sweet prelude of another's lay. For whose'er of such a day hath sight, (Now chiefly when the tangled locks of Night Fall thickliest) to his mind will come the line, "To-day's the day for tent and fire and wine." The Nine Spheres' influence keep thee safe and fast, While the Four Elements and Six Directions last!"

"Waft, gentle gale, oh waft to Samercand, When next thou visitest that blissful land, The plaint of Khorassania plung'd in woe: Bear to Turania's King our piteous scroll, Whose opening breathes forth all the anguish'd soul, And close denotes whate'er the tortur'd know."