'Tis but a Tent where takes his one day's rest Waste not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit A Sultán to the realm of Death addrest; The Sultán rises, and the dark Ferrásh1 Strikes, and prepares it for another Guest. XLVI And fear not lest Existence closing your Account, and mine, should know the like no more; The Eternal Sákí2 from that Bowl has pour 'd Millions of Bubbles like us, and will pour. XLVII When You and I behind the Veil are past, Oh, but the long, long while the World shall last, Which of our Coming and Departure heeds As the Sea's self should heed a pebble-cast. XLVIII A Moment's Halt-a momentary taste XLIX Would you that spangle of Existence spend About THE SECRET-quick about it, Friend! Of This and That endeavour and dispute; Better be jocund with the fruitful Grape Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit. A Hair perhaps divides the False and True-3 The letter a, often represented by a slight mark And upon what, prithee, does life depend? like an apostrophe, the presence or absence of which could change the meaning of a word. 4 from fish to moon 5 Omar assisted in reforming the calendar. Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through, | With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man 6 "The seventy-two religions supposed to divide the world." knead, And there of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed: LXXIV YESTERDAY This Day's Madness did prepare; nor why: Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where. LXXV I tell you this-When, started from the Goal, Of Heav'n Parwin and Mushtarfs they flung, LXXVI The Vine had struck a fibre: which about 7 "Alluding to Sultan Mahmúd's conquest of India 10 A Mohammedan devotee. Yon rising Moon that looks for us againHow oft hereafter will she wax and wane; How oft hereafter rising look for us Where I made One-turn down an empty Glass! TAMAM15 ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH (1819-1861) IN A LECTURE-ROOM Away, haunt thou not me, Unto thy broken cisterns wherefore go, And clouds that sink and rest on hill-tops high, Are welling, bubbling forth, unseen, incessantly? Why labour at the dull mechanic oar, To veer, how vain! On, onward strain, Brave barks! In light, in darkness too, Through this same Garden-and for one in Through winds and tides one compass guides vain! CI And when like her, oh Sákí, you shall pass Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass, And in your joyous errand reach the spot To that, and your own selves, be true. But O blithe breeze! and O, great seas, One port, methought, alike they sought, SAY NOT THE STRUGGLE NOUGHT Say not the struggle nought availeth, The labour and the wounds are vain, The enemy faints not, nor faileth, And as things have been they remain. If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars; For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, And not by eastern windows only, When daylight comes, comes in the light, In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly, But westward, look, the land is bright. ITE DOMUM SATURE, VENIT The skies have sunk, and hid the upper snow The rainy clouds are filing fast below, Ah dear, and where is he, a year agone, The sky behind is brightening up anew The rain is ending, and our journey too: ALL IS WELL Whate'er you dream, with doubt possessed, The lightning zigzags shoot across the sky Palie), And through the vale the rains go sweeping by; |