The story of Sultan Murad and the architect, in illustration of Muslim Equality

An architect there was, that in Khojand Was born, a famous craftsman of his kind,

Worthy to be an offspring of Farhad. 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 forearm. In such hapless plight He came before the qazi

and retold The tyrants’s felony, that had destroyed The cunning hand which shaped the granite rock.

“O thou whose words a message are of Truth,” He cried, “whose toil it is to keep alive Muhammad’s Law,

I am no ear-bored slave Patient to wear the ring of monarchs’ might. Determine my appeal by the Quran!”

The upright cadi bit his lips in ire And summoned to his court the unjust king

Who, hearing the Quran 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.

On one side stood the appellant, and on one The 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, And by that law life finds stability.

The Muslim slave no less is than free men, Nor is the emperor’s blood of richer hue Than the poor builder’s.”

Listening to these words Of Holy Writ, Murad shook off his sleeve And bared his hand.

The plaintiff thereupon No Longer could keep silence. “God commands Justice and kindliness,” recited he.

For God’s sake and Muhammad’s, he declared, “I do forgive him.”

Note the majesty Of the Apostle’s Law, and how an ant Triumphantly outfought a Solomon!

Before the tribunal of the Quran Master and salve are one, the mat of reeds Coequal with the throne of rich brocade.