Of another fountain he says:—­“I directed this fountain to be built round with stone, and formed a cistern.  At the time when the Arghwan flowers begin to blow, I do not know that any place in the world is to be compared to it.”  On its sides he engraved these verses:—­

Sweet is the return of the new year;
Sweet is the smiling spring;
Sweet is the juice of the mellow grape;
Sweeter far the voice of love. 
Strive, O Baber! to secure the joys of life,
Which, alas! once departed, never more return.

From these flowers Baber and his army marched into the passes of the high mountains.

His narrative goes on:—­

It was at this time that I composed the following verses:—­

There is no violence or injury of fortune that I have not
experienced;
This broken heart has endured them all.  Alas! is there one left
that I have not encountered?

For about a week we continued pressing down the snow without being able to advance more than two or three miles.  I myself assisted in trampling down the snow.  Every step we sank up to the middle or the breast, but we still went on, trampling it down.  As the strength of the person who went first was generally exhausted after he had advanced a few paces, he stood still, while another took his place.  The ten, fifteen, or twenty people who worked in trampling down the snow, next succeeded in dragging on a horse without a rider.  Drawing this horse aside, we brought on another, and in this way ten, fifteen, or twenty of us contrived to bring forward the horses of all our number.  The rest of the troops, even our best men, advanced along the road that had been beaten for them, hanging their heads.  This was no time for plaguing them or employing authority.  Every man who possesses spirit or emulation hastens to such works of himself.  Continuing to advance by a track which we beat in the snow in this manner, we reached a cave at the foot of the Zirrin pass.  That day the storm of wind was dreadful.  The snow fell in such quantities that we all expected to meet death together.  The cave seemed to be small.  I took a hoe and made for myself at the mouth of the cave a resting-place about the size of a prayer-carpet.  I dug down in the snow as deep as my breast, and yet did not reach the ground.  This hole afforded me some shelter from the wind, and I sat down in it.  Some desired me to go into the cavern, but I would not go.  I felt that for me to be in a warm dwelling, while my men were in the, midst of snow and drift,—­for me to be within, enjoying sleep and ease, while my followers were in trouble and distress,—­would be inconsistent with what I owed them, and a deviation from that society in suffering which was their due.  I continued, therefore, to sit in the drift.

Ambition admits not of inaction; The world is his who exerts himself; In wisdom’s eye, every condition May find repose save royalty alone.

By leadership like this, the descendant of Tamerlane became the ruler of Kabul.  He celebrates its charms in verse:—­