An architect there was, that in khojand
Was born, a famous craftsman of his kind,
Worthy to be an offspring of Frhad.
Sultan Murad commanded him to build
A mosque, the which pleased not his majesty,
So that he waxed right furious at his faults.
The baleful fire flared in the ruler’s eyes;
Drawing his dagger, he cut off the hand
Of that poor wretch, so that the spurting blood
Gushed from his foremen. In such hapless plight
He came before the cadi, and retold
The tyrants’s felony, that had destroyed
The cunning hand which shaped the granit rock
“O thou whose words a message are of Teuch,”
He cried, “whose toil it is to keep alive
Muhammad’s Law, I am no ear-bored slave
Sultan Murad And The Architect
Patient to wear the ring of monarchs’ might.
Determine my appeal by the Koran!”
The upright cadi bit his lips in ire
And summoned to his court the unjust king
Who, hearing the Koran invoked, turned pale
With awe, and came like any criminal
Before the judge, his eyes cast down in shame,
Is cheeks as crimson as the tulip’s glow.
In one side stood the appellant, and on one
He high exalted emperor, who spoke.
I am ashamed of this that I have wrought
And make confession of my grievous crime.”
In retribution “ , quoth the judge, “ is life, 48
And by that law life finds stability.
 The Muslim slave no less is than free men are,
Or is the emperor’s blood of richer hue
An the poor builder’s.” Listening to these words.
Holy Writ, Murad shook off his sleeve
D bared his hand. The plaintiff thereupon
Longer could keep silence. “God commands 49
Ice and kindliness,” recited he.
Or God’s sake and Muhammad’s , “he declared.
Do forgive him. “ Note the majesty
The Apostle’s Law, and how an ant 50
umphantly outfought a Solomon !
Is the tribunal of the Koran
ter and salve are one, the mat of reeds.
Qual with the throne of rich brocade.