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XXXIX

How long, how long, in infinite Pursuit
Of This and That endeavour and dispute?
Better be merry with the fruitful Grape
Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.

XL

my

You know, my Friends, how long since in
For a new Marriage I did make Čarouse :
Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed,
And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse.

House

XLI

6

For Is' and 'IS-NOT' though with Rule and Line,
And 'UP-AND-DOWN' without, I could define,

I yet in all I only cared to know,
Was never deep in anything but-Wine.

XLII

And lately, by the Tavern Door agape,
Came stealing through the Dusk an Angel Shape
Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and
He bid me taste of it; and 'twas-the Grape !

XLIII

The Grape that can with Logic absolute
The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute :
The subtle Alchemist that in a Trice
Life's leaden Metal into Gold transmute.

XLIV

The mighty Mahmúd, the victorious Lord,
That all the misbelieving and black Horde

Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul
Scatters and slays with his enchanted Sword.

XLV

But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me
The Quarrel of the Universe let be :

And, in some corner of the Hubbub coucht, Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee.

XLVI

For in and out, above, about, below,

'Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show,

Play'd in a Box whose Candle is the Sun, Round which we Phantom Figures come and go.

XLVII

And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press, End in the Nothing all Things end in-YesThen fancy while Thou art, Thou art but what Thou shalt be-Nothing-Thou shalt not be less.

XLVIII

While the Rose blows along the River Brink, With old Khayyam the Ruby Vintage drink : And when the Angel with his darker Draught Draws up to Thee-take that, and do not shrink.

XLIX

'Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays :

Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays, And one by one back in the Closet lays.

L

The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes,
But Right or Left as strikes the Player goes;

And He that toss'd Thee down into the Field, He knows about it all-He knows-HE knows!

LI

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on nor all thy Piety nor Wit

Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

LII

And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,
Whereunder crawling coop't we live and die,
Lift not thy hands to It for help-for It
Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.

LIII

With Earth's first Clay They did the last Man's knead, And then of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed:

Yea, the first Morning of Creation wrote What the last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.

LIV

I tell Thee this-When, starting from the Goal,
Over the shoulders of the flaming Foal

Of Heav'n Parwin and Mushtara they flung,
In my predestin'd Plot of Dust and Soul

LV

The Vine had struck a Fibre; which about
If clings my Being-let the Súfi flout;

Of my Base Metal may be filed a Key,
That shall unlock the Door he howls without.

And this I know

LVI

whether the one True Light, Kindle to Love, or Wrath-consume me quite, One glimpse of It within the Tavern caught Better than in the Temple lost outright.

LVII

Oh Thou, who didst with Pitfall and with Gin
Beset the Road I was to wander in,

Thou wilt not with Predestination round
Enmesh me, and impute my Fall to Sin?

LVIII

Oh, Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make,
And who with Eden didst devise the Snake ;

For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man
Is blacken'd, Man's Forgiveness give-and take!

KÚZA-NÁMA

LIX

Listen again. One evening at the Close
Of Ramazán, ere the better Moon arose,

In that old Potter's Shop I stood alone
With the clay Population round in Rows.

LX

And, strange to tell, among the Earthen Lot
Some could articulate, while others not :

And suddenly one more impatient cried-
'Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot ? '

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My Substance from the common Earth was ta'en,

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That He who subtly wrought me into Shape Should stamp me back to common Earth again.'

LXII

Another said—' Why, ne'er a peevish Boy,

'Would break the Bowl from which he drank in Joy ;

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Shall He that made the Vessel in pure Love

'And Fancy, in an after Rage destroy!'

LXIII

None answer'd this; but after Silence spake

A Vessel of a more ungainly Make:

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They sneer at me for leaning all awry;

6 What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake ? 2

LXIV

Said one-- Folks of a surly Tapster tell,

And daub his Visage with the Smoke of Hell ; 'They talk of some strict Testing of us-Pish! 'He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well.'

LXV

Then said another with a long-drawn Sigh, 'My Clay with long oblivion is gone dry:

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But, fill me with the old familiar Juice, 'Methinks I might recover by and by!'

LXVI

So while the Vessels one by one were speaking,
One spied the little Crescent all were seeking:

And then they jogg'd each other, 'Brother, Brother! 'Hark to the Porter's Shoulder-knot a-creaking! '

LXVII

Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide,
And wash my Body whence the Life has died,
And in a Windingsheet of Vine-leaf wrapt,
So bury me by some sweet Garden-side.

LXVIII

That ev'n my buried Ashes such a Snare
Of Perfume shall fling up into the Air,
As not a True Believer passing by
But shall be overtaken unaware.

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