1Wake! For the Sun, who scattered into flight
2The Stars before him from the Field of Night,
3Drives Night along with them from Heav'n, and strikes
4The Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of Light.
5Before the phantom of False morning died,
6Methought a Voice within the Tavern cried,
7"When all the Temple is prepared within,
8Why nods the drowsy Worshipper outside?"
9And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before
10The Tavern shouted—"Open then the Door!
11You know how little while we have to stay,
12And, once departed, may return no more."
13Now the New Year reviving old Desires,
14The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires,
15Where the WHITE HAND OF MOSES on the Bough
16Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.
17Iram indeed is gone with all his Rose,
18And Jamshyd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows;
19But still a Ruby kindles in the Vine,
20And many a Garden by the Water blows.
21And David's lips are lockt; but in divine
22High-piping Pehlevi, with "Wine! Wine! Wine!
23Red Wine!"—the Nightingale cries to the Rose
24That sallow cheek of her's t' incarnadine.
25Come, fill the Cup, and in the fire of Spring
26Your Winter-garment of Repentance fling:
27The Bird of Time has but a little way
28To flutter—and the Bird is on the Wing.
29Whether at Naishapur or Babylon,
30Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter run,
31The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop,
32The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one.
33Each Morn a thousand Roses brings, you say;
34Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday?
35And this first Summer month that brings the Rose
36Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad away.
37Well, let it take them! What have we to do
38With Kaikobad the Great, or Kaikhosru?
39Let Zal and Rustum bluster as they will,
40Or Hatim call to Supper—heed not you.
41With me along the strip of Herbage strown
42That just divides the desert from the sown,
43Where name of Slave and Sultan is forgot—
44And Peace to Mahmud on his golden Throne!
45A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
46A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread—and Thou
47Beside me singing in the Wilderness—
48Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!
49Some for the Glories of This World; and some
50Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come;
51Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go,
52Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!
53Look to the blowing Rose about us—"Lo,
54Laughing," she says, "into the world I blow,
55At once the silken tassel of my Purse
56Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw."
57And those who husbanded the Golden grain,
58And those who flung it to the winds like Rain,
59Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd
60As, buried once, Men want dug up again.
61The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon
62Turns Ashes—or it prospers; and anon,
63Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face,
64Lighting a little hour or two—is gone.
65Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai
66Whose Portals are alternate Night and Day,
67How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp
68Abode his destin'd Hour, and went his way.
69They say the Lion and the Lizard keep
70The Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep:
71And Bahram, that great Hunter—the Wild Ass
72Stamps o'er his Head, but cannot break his Sleep.
73I sometimes think that never blows so red
74The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;
75That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
76Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.
77And this reviving Herb whose tender Green
78Fledges the River-Lip on which we lean—
79Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows
80From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen!
81Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears
82To-day of past Regrets and future Fears:
83To-morrow!—Why, To-morrow I may be
84Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n thousand Years.
85For some we loved, the loveliest and the best
86That from his Vintage rolling Time has prest,
87Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,
88And one by one crept silently to rest.
89And we, that now make merry in the Room
90They left, and Summer dresses in new bloom,
91Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth
92Descend—ourselves to make a Couch—for whom?
93I think the Vessel, that with fugitive
94Articulation answer'd, once did live,
95And drink; and Ah! the passive Lip I kiss'd,
96How many Kisses might it take—and give!
97For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day,
98I watch'd the Potter thumping his wet Clay:
99And with its all-obliterated Tongue
100It murmur'd—"Gently, Brother, gently, pray!"
101Ah, fill the Cup:—what boots it to repeat
102How Time is slipping underneath our Feet:
103Unborn TO-MORROW, and dead YESTERDAY,
104Why fret about them if TO-DAY be sweet!
105One Moment in Annihilation's Waste,
106One Moment, of the Well of Life to taste—
107The Stars are setting and the Caravan
108Starts for the Dawn of Nothing—Oh, make haste!
109How long, how long, in infinite Pursuit
110Of This and That endeavour and dispute?
111Better be jocund with the fruitful Grape
112Than sadder after none, or bitter, Fruit.
113You know, my Friends, with what a brave Carouse
114I made a Second Marriage in my house;
115Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed,
116And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse.
117The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
118Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
119Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
120Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.
121And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky,
122Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die,
123Lift not your hands to It for help—for It
124As impotently rolls as you or I.
125With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead,
126And there of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed:
127And the first Morning of Creation wrote
128What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.
129Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;
130To-morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:
131Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why:
132Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.
133I tell you this—When, started from the Goal,
134Over the flaming shoulders of the Foal
135Of Heav'n Parwín and Mushtarí they flung,
136In my predestined Plot of Dust and Soul
137The Vine had struck a fibre: which about
138If clings my Being—let the Dervish flout;
139Of my Base metal may be filed a Key,
140That shall unlock the Door he howls without.
141And this I know: whether the one True Light
142Kindle to Love, or Wrath consume me quite,
143One Flash of It within the Tavern caught
144Better than in the Temple lost outright.
145What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke
146A conscious Something to resent the yoke
147Of unpermitted Pleasure, under pain
148Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!
149Oh Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make,
150And ev'n with Paradise devise the Snake:
151For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man
152Is blacken'd—Man's forgiveness give—and take!
153Yet Ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose!
154That Youth's sweet-scented manuscript should close!
155The Nightingale that in the branches sang,
156Ah whence, and whither flown again, who knows!
157Would but the Desert of the Fountain yield
158One glimpse—if dimly, yet indeed, reveal'd,
159To which the fainting Traveller might spring,
160As springs the trampled herbage of the field!
161Would but some wingèd Angel ere too late
162Arrest the yet unfolded Roll of Fate,
163And make the stern Recorder otherwise
164Enregister, or quite obliterate!
165Ah Love! could you and I with Him conspire
166To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
167Would not we shatter it to bits—and then
168Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
169You rising Moon that looks for us again—
170How oft hereafter will she wax and wane;
171How oft hereafter rising look for us
172Through this same Garden—and for one in vain!
173And when like her, oh Sáki, you shall pass
174Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass,
175And in your joyous errand reach the spot
176Where I made One—turn down an empty Glass!
177TAMÁM SHUD.