Part 12 (1/2)

V

Iram indeed is gone with all his Rose, And Jamshd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows; But still a Ruby kindles in the Vine, And many a Garden by the Water blows.

VI

And David's lips are lockt; but in divine High-piping Pehlevi, with ”Wine! Wine! Wine!

Red Wine!”--the Nightingale cries to the Rose That sallow cheek of hers t' incarnadine.

VII

Come, fill the Cup, and in the fire of Spring Your Winter-garment of Repentance fling: The Bird of Time has but a little way To flutter--and the Bird is on the Wing.

VIII

Whether at Naishapur or Babylon, Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter run, The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop, The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one.

IX

Each Morn a thousand Roses brings, you say; Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday?

And this first Summer month that brings the Rose Shall take Jamshd and Kaikobad away.

X

Well, let it take them! What have we to do With Kaikobad the Great, or Kaikhosru?

Let Zal and Rustum bl.u.s.ter as they will, Or Hatim call to Supper--heed not you.

XI

With me along the strip of Herbage strown That just divides the desert from the sown, Where name of Slave and Sultan is forgot-- And Peace to Mahmud on his golden Throne!

XII

A Book of Verses underneath the Bough, A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread--and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness-- Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!

XIII

Some for the Glories of This World; and some Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come; Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go, Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!

XIV