Does not crave of Khizr a cup of water![50]
His brow is not moist with the shame of beggary;
He is a man still, not a piece of clay.
That noble youth walks under heaven 475
With his head erect like the pine.
Are his hands empty? The more is he master of himself.
Do his fortunes languish? The more alert is he.
The beggar’s wallet is like a boat tossing in waves of fire;
Sweet is a little dew gathered by one’s own hand. 480
Be a man of honour, and like the bubble