The guests have drunk the wine and are departed,
Leaving their empty bowls behind—not one
To carry on the revel, cup in hand!
Up, Jámí, then! And whether lees or wine
To offer—boldly offer it in thine!
And yet, how long, Jámí, is this old house
Stringing thy pearls upon a harp of song?
Year after year striking up some new song,
The breath of some old story? Life is gone,
And yet the song is not the last; my soul
Is spent—and still a story to be told!
SALÁMÁN AND ABSÁL.
"THOU MOVEST UNDER ALL THE FORMS OF TRUTH"
O Thou, whose memory quickens lovers' souls,
Whose fount of joy renews the lover's tongue,
Thy shadow falls across the world, and they
Bow down to it; and of the rich in beauty
Thou art the riches that make lovers mad.
Not till Thy secret beauty through the cheek
Of Laila smite does she inflame Majnún,
And not till Thou have sugar'd Shírín's lip
The hearts of those two lovers fill with blood.
For lov'd and lover are not but by Thee,
Nor beauty; mortal beauty but the veil
Thy heavenly hides behind, and from itself
Feeds, and our hearts yearn after as a bride
That glances past us veil'd—but even so
As none the beauty from the veil may know.
How long wilt Thou continue thus the world
To cozen with the phantom of a veil
From which Thou only peepest?—Time it is
To unfold Thy perfect beauty. I would be
Thy lover, and Thine only—I, mine eyes
Seal'd in the light of Thee to all but Thee,
Yea, in the revelation of Thyself
Self-lost, and conscience-quit of good and evil.
Thou movest under all the forms of truth,
Under the forms of all created things;
Look whence I will, still nothing I discern
But Thee in all the universe.
"MAN'S PRIME DESIRE"
O thou whose wisdom is the rule of kings—
(Glory to God who gave it!)—answer me:
Is any blessing better than a son?
Man's prime desire; by which his name and he
Shall live beyond himself; by whom his eyes
Shine living, and his dust with roses blows;
A foot for thee to stand on he shall be,
A hand to stop thy falling; in his youth
Thou shalt be young, and in his strength be strong;
Sharp shall he be in battle as a sword,
A cloud of arrows on the enemy's head;
His voice shall cheer his friends to better plight,
And turn the foeman's glory into flight.
LUST
Lust that makes blind the reason; lust that makes
A devil's self seem angel to our eyes;
A cataract that, carrying havoc with it,
Confounds the prosperous house; a road of mire
Where whoso falls he rises not again;
A wine of which whoever tastes shall see
Redemption's face no more—one little sip
Of that delicious and unlawful drink,
Making crave much, and hanging round the palate
Till it become a ring to lead thee by
(Putting the rope in a vain woman's hand),
Till thou thyself go down the Way of Nothing.
THE BABY DARLING
As soon as she had opened eyes on him,
She closed those eyes to all the world beside,
And her soul crazed, a-doting on her jewel,—
Her jewel in a golden cradle set;
Opening and shutting which her day's delight,
To gaze upon his heart-inflaming cheek—
Upon the darling whom, could she, she would
Have cradled as the baby of her eye.
In rose and musk she wash'd him—to his lips
Press'd the pure sugar from the honeycomb;
And when, day over, she withdrew her milk,
She made, and having laid him in, his bed,
Burn'd all night like a taper o'er his head.
Then still as morning came, and as he grew,
She dressed him like a little idol up;
On with his robe—with fresh collyrium dew
Touch'd his narcissus eyes—the musky locks
Divided from his forehead—and embraced
With gold and ruby girdle his fine waist.
"THE MOON AND ROSES"
Sat a lover solitary
Self-discoursing in a corner,
Passionate and ever-changing
Invocation pouring out:
Sometimes sun and moon; and sometimes
Under hyacinth half-hidden
Roses; or the lofty cypress,
And the little weed below.
Nightingaling thus a noodle
Heard him, and, completely puzzled,—
"What!" quoth he, "and you, a lover,
Raving not about your mistress,
But about the moon and roses!"
Answer'd he: "O thou that aimest
Wide of love, and lover's language
Wholly misinterpreting;
Sun and moon are but my lady's
Self, as any lover knows;
Hyacinth I said, and meant her
Hair—her cheek was in the rose—
And I myself the wretched weed
That in her cypress shadow grows."
THE WILES OF ABSÁL
Now from her hair would twine a musky chain,
To bind his heart—now twist it into curls
Nestling innumerable temptations;
Doubled the darkness of her eyes with surma
To make him lose his way, and over them
Adorn'd the bows that were to shoot him then;
Fresh rose, and then a grain of musk lay there,
The bird of the beloved heart to snare.
Now to the rose-leaf of her cheek would add,
Now with a laugh would break the ruby seal
That, lockt up pearl; or busied in the room
Would smite her hand, perhaps—on that pretence
To lift and show the silver in her sleeve;
Or hastily rising, dash her golden anklets
To draw the crowned head under her feet.
Thus by innumerable bridal wiles
She went about soliciting his eyes,
Which she would scarce let lose her for a moment;
For well she knew that mainly by the eye
Love makes his sign, and by no other road
Enters and takes possession of the heart.
LOVE'S EARTHLY WAY
Now when Salámán's heart turned to Absál,
Her star was happy in the heavens—old Love
Put forth afresh—Desire doubled his bond:
And of the running time she watch'd an hour
To creep into the mansion of her moon
And satiate her soul upon his lips.
And the hour came; she stole into his chamber—
Ran up to him, Life's offer in her hand—
And, falling like a shadow at his feet,
She laid her face beneath. Salámán then
With all the courtesies of princely grace
Put forth his hand—he rais'd her in his arms—
He held her trembling there—and from that fount
Drew first desire; then deeper from her lips,
That, yielding, mutually drew from his
A wine that ever drawn from never fail'd.
So through the day—so through another still.
The day became a seventh—the seventh a moon—
The moon a year—while they rejoiced together,
Thinking their pleasure never was to end.
But rolling Heaven whisper'd from his ambush,
"So in my license is it not set down.
Ah for the sweet societies I make
At morning and before the nightfall break!
Ah for that bliss that with the setting sun
I mix, and, with his rising, all is done!"