Page:The Sacred Books and Early Literature of the East, Volume 08.djvu/51



They preach how sweet those Houri brides will be,

But I say wine is sweeter---taste and see!

Hold fast this cash, and let that credit go,

And shun the din of empty drums like me.

Once and again my soul did me implore,

To teach her, if I might, the heavenly lore;

I bade her learn the Alif well by heart.

Who knows that letter well need learn no more.

I came not hither of my own free will,

And go against my wish, a puppet still;

Cupbearer! gird thy loins, and fetch some wine;

To purge the world's despite, my goblet fill.

How long must I make bricks upon the sea?

Beshrew this vain task of idolatry;

Call not Khayyam a denizen of hell;

One while in heaven, and one in hell is he.

Sweet is the breath of Spring to rose's face,

And thy sweet face adds charm to this fair place;

To-day is sweet, but yesterday is sad,

And sad all mention of its parted grace.

To-night pour wine, and sing a dulcet air,

And I upon thy lips will hang, O fair;

Yea, pour some wine as rosy as thy cheeks,

My mind is troubled like thy ruffled hair.