Page:The Sacred Books and Early Literature of the East, Volume 08.djvu/108



In slandering and reviling you persist,

Calling me infidel and atheist:

My errors I will not deny, but yet

Does foul abuse become a moralist?

To find a remedy, put up with pain,

Chafe not at woe, and healing thou wilt gain;

Though poor, be ever of a thankful mind,

'Tis the sure method riches to obtain.

Give me a skin of wine, a crust of bread,

A pittance bare, a book of verse to read;

With thee, O love, to share my lowly roof,

I would not take the Sultan's realm instead!

Reason not of the five, nor of the four,

Be their dark problems one, or many score;

We are but earth---Go, minstrel, bring the lute!

We are but air---Bring wine; I ask no more!

Why argue on Yasin and on Barat?

Write me the draft for wine they call Barat!

The day my weariness is drowned in wine

Will seem to me as the great night Barat!

Whilst thou dost wear this fleshy livery,

Step not beyond the bounds of destiny;

Bear up, though very Rustems be thy foes,

And crave no boon from friends like Hatim Tai!