The Oriental stories which form the contents of the fifth book are of small literary value. Some of them read like versified lessons in Eastern religion, as, for instance, "Der Sufi," p. 111, which is a rhymed exposition of a Sūfistic principle,[211] and "Der Wüstenheilige," which enunciates through the lips of Zoroaster himself his doctrine that good actions are worth more than ascetic practices.[212] On p. 121 Ibn Yamīn is credited with the story of the poet and the glow-worm, which is found in Saʻdī's Būstān (ed. Platts and Rogers, Lond. 1891, p. 127; tr. Barbier de Meynard, Paris, 1880, p. 163). The famous story of Yūsuf and Zalīχā, as related by Jāmī and Firdausī, is the subject of the longest poem in the book and is told in a somewhat flippant manner, p. 135 seq. The stories told of Saʻdī's reception at court and his subsequent banishment through the calumny of the courtiers, pp. 123-128, seem to be pure invention; at least there is nothing, as far as we know, in the life or writings of the Persian poet that could have furnished the material for these poems.[213]
In 1882, still another collection of Bodenstedt's poems, entitled Aus Morgenland und Abendland, made its appearance. Like the Nachlass it also has seven divisions, of which only the second, fourth and sixth are of interest for us as containing Oriental material.[214]
One poem, however, in the first book, "An eine Kerze," p. 5, should be mentioned as of genuinely Persian character. The candle as symbolical of the patient, self-sacrificing lover is a familiar feature of Persian belles-lettres (cf. H. 299. 4; 301. 5; or Rückert's "Die Kerze und die Flasche," see above, p. 43). The last line reminds us of a verse of Jurjānī, cited by Jāmī in the Bahāristān (ed. Schlechta-Wssehrd, p. 111), exhorting the ruler to be like a flame, always pointing upwards.
The second book brings another contribution of sententious wisdom, most of which is neither new nor Oriental. Of Oriental sources the Gulistān is best represented. From it are taken Nos. 8 (Gul. ii. 4, last couplet), 9 (ibid. i. 1), 41 (ibid. i. 21, prose-passage before the maθ. p. 33; K.S. p. 55), 43 (ibid. i. 17, coupl. 4, p. 29; K.S. p. 49), 52 (ibid. i. 29, coupl. 2; K.S. p. 66). No. 47, which is credited to Ibn Yamīn, is from the Bahāristān (tr. K.S. p. 46; Red. p. 338). No. 49 is a very free rendering of a quatrain of ʻUmar Xayyām (Whinf. 347; Red. p. 81).[215]
The fourth book offers stories, all of which, except the first two, are from Persian sources. Thus from the Gulistān are "Die Berichtigung" (Gul. i. 31; K.S., p. 67) and "Der Königsring" (Gul. iii. 27, last part, p. 92; K.S. p. 157). "Nachtigall und Falk" is from Niḍāmī, as was pointed out before (see above, p. 43). "Das Paradies der Gläubigen" is from Jāmī (Red. p. 324; given there as from the Subẖat ul-abrār) and "Ein Bild der Welt" is from Ibn Yamīn (Red. p. 236).[216] The longest story of the book is "Dara und Sara," which gives the legend of the discovery of wine by King Jamšīd, told by Mīrχvānd in his Rauḍat us-safā.[217] Besides changing the name of the king to Dara, in order to make the poem more romantic, we find that Bodenstedt has made some decided alterations and has considerably amplified the legend. Thus in his version the motive of the lady's attempt at suicide is despised love, while in the original it is only a prosaic nervous headache. In both cases, however, the sequel is the same.
Finally, the sixth book offers very free paraphrases of poems by Rūmī, Saʻdī, Amīr Muʻizzī and Anvarī, who, oddly enough, are termed "Vorläufer des Mirza Schaffy." The source for most of these poems was evidently Hammer's Geschichte der schönen Redekünste Persiens. To realize with what freedom Bodenstedt has treated his models, it is only necessary to compare some of the poems from Rūmī with Hammer's versions, e.g. "Glaube und Unglaube" (Red. p. 175), "Der Mensch und die Welt" (ibid. p. 180), "Des Lebens Kreislauf" (ibid. p. 178), "Wach' auf" (ibid. p. 181). "Die Pilger," p. 188, attributed to Jāmī, is likewise from Rūmī (Red. p. 181; cf. Rückert, Werke, vol. v. p. 220). The poems from Saʻdī can mostly be traced to the Gulistān; they are so freely rendered that they have little in common with the originals except the thought. No. 1 is Gul. ii. 18, qiṭʻah 1, to which the words of Luqmān are added; no. 2 is from Gul. iii. 10, couplet (p. 76; K.S. p. 129); no. 3 is Gul. iii. 27, maθ. (p. 89; K.S., p. 151); no. 4 is Gul. iii. 27, qiṭʻah (p. 91; K.S., p. 154) and no. 5 is Gul. i. 39, maθ. The poem "Heimat und Fremde" is taken from Amīr Muʻizzī,[218] the court-poet of Malak Shāh, who in turn took it from Anvarī. It is cited in the Haft Qulzum to illustrate a kind of poetic theft.[219] "Unterschied" is from Jāmī (Red. p. 315, given as from Subẖat ul-abrār), "Warum" from Ibn Yamīn (Red. p. 235); "Die Sterne" and "Die Zeit" are both from Anvarī (Red. pp. 98, 99).
So far, Bodenstedt had taken the material for his Oriental poems from Persia, but now he turned to India and in 1887 appeared Sakuntala, a romantic epic in five cantos. In the main it follows the story of Kālidāsa's famous drama, but the version in the Mahābharāta is also used, and a considerable number of episodes are invented. Even where the account of the drama is followed, changes of a more or less sweeping nature are frequent. We cannot say that they strike us as so many improvements on Kālidāsa; they certainly often destroy or obliterate characteristic Indic features. Thus in the drama the failure of the king to recognize Śakuntalā is the result of a curse pronounced against the girl by the irascible saint Durvāsas, whom she has inadvertently failed to treat with due respect, and the ring is merely a means of breaking the spell. All this is highly characteristic of Hindu thought. In Bodenstedt's poem, however, remembering and forgetting are dependent on a magic quality inherent in the ring itself,—a trait that is at home in almost any literature.[220]
There are, besides, many minor changes. The vidūṣaka, or fun-making attendant of the king, is left out, and so the warriors express the sentiments that he utters at the beginning of Act 2. Duṣyanta does not bid farewell to his beloved in person, but leaves a letter. Again, after he has failed to recognize her, she returns to the hermitage of Kanva, whereas in the drama she is transported to that of Kaśyapa on the Hēmakūṭa mountain. So, of course, the aerial ride of the king in Indra's wagon is also done away with.