'Tis best all other blessings to forego
For wine, that charming Turki maids bestow;
Kalendars' raptures pass all things that are,
From moon on high down into fish below!
404. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. For mah L. reads hahk probably a Sufi gloss. Kalendars, bibulous Sufis. Fish, that whereon the earth was said to rest.
Friend! trouble not yourself about your lot,
Let futile care and sorrow be forgot;
Since this life's vesture crumbles into dust,
What matters stain of word or deed, or blot?
O thou who hast done ill, and ill alone,
And thinkest to find mercy at the throne,
Hope not for mercy! for good left undone
Cannot be done, nor evil done undone!
406. N. A. I. This quatrain is by Abu Sa'id Abu'l Khair; and is an answer to No. 420, which is attributed to Avicenna.
Count not to live beyond your sixtieth year,
To walk in jovial courses persevere;
And ere your skull be turned into a cup,
Let wine-cups ever to your hand adhere!