of the Rose, and the raven the perch of the Nightingale.  The storms of autumn raged in fury, and the foliage of the grove was shed upon the ground.  The cheek of the leaf was turned yellow, and the breath of the wind was chill and blasting.  The gathering cloud poured down hailstones, like pearls, and flakes of snow floated like camphor on the bosom of the air.  Suddenly the Nightingale returned into the garden, but he met neither the bloom of the Rose nor fragrance of the spikenard; notwithstanding his thousand-songed tongue, he stood stupified and mute, for he could discover no flower whose form he might admire, nor any verdure whose freshness he might enjoy.  The Thorn turned round to him and said:  “How long, silly bird, wouldst thou be courting the society of the Rose?  Now is the season that in the absence of thy charmer thou must put up with the heart-rending bramble of separation.”  The Nightingale cast his eye upon the scene around him, but saw nothing fit to eat.  Destitute of food, his strength and fortitude failed him, and in his abject helplessness he was unable to earn himself a little livelihood.  He called to his mind and said:  “Surely the Ant had in former days his dwelling underneath this tree, and was busy in hoarding a store of provision:  now I will lay my wants before her, and, in the name of good neighbourship, and with an appeal to her generosity, beg some small relief.  Peradventure she may pity my distress and bestow her charity upon me.”  Like a poor suppliant, the half-famished Nightingale presented himself at the Ant’s door, and said:  “Generosity is the harbinger of prosperity, and the capital stock of good luck.  I was wasting my precious life in idleness whilst thou wast toiling hard and laying up a hoard.  How considerate and good it were of thee wouldst thou spare me a portion of it.”  The Ant replied: 

“Thou wast day and night occupied in idle talk, and I in attending to the needful:  one moment thou wast taken up with the fresh blandishment of the Rose, and the next busy in admiring the blossoming spring.  Wast thou not aware that every summer has its fall and every road an end?"[15]

   [13] The name of a musical instrument.

   [14] The fancied love of the nightingale for the rose is a
        favourite theme of Persian poets.

   [15] Cf. the fable of Anianus:  After laughing all summer at
        her toil, the Grasshopper came in winter to borrow part
        of the Ant’s store of food.  “Tell me,” said the Ant,
        “what you did in the summer?” “I sang,” replied the
        Grasshopper.  “Indeed,” rejoined the Ant.  “Then you may
        dance and keep yourself warm during the winter.”

These are a few more of Saadi’s aphorisms: 

Riches are for the comfort of life, and not life for the accumulation of riches.[16]

   [16] Auvaiyar, the celebrated Indian poetess, in her
        Nalvali, says: