Page:The Sacred Books and Early Literature of the East, Volume 08.djvu/61



Let him rejoice who has a loaf of bread,

A little nest wherein to lay his head,

Is slave to none, and no man slaves for him---

In truth his lot is wondrous well bested.

What adds my service to Thy majesty?

Or how can sin of mine dishonor Thee?

O pardon, then, and punish not, I know

Thou'rt slow to wrath, and prone to clemency.

Hands, such as mine, that handle bowls of wine,

'Twere shame to book and pulpit to confine;

Zealot! thou'rt dry, and I am moist with drink,

Yea, far too moist to catch that fire of thine!

Whoso aspires to gain a rose-cheeked fair,

Sharp pricks from fortune's thorns must learn to bear.

See! till this comb was cleft by cruel cuts,

It never dared to touch my lady's hair.

Forever may my hands on wine be stayed,

And my heart pant for some fair Houri maid!

They say, "May Allah aid thee to repent!"

Repent I could not, e'en with Allah's aid!

Soon shall I go, by time and fate deplored,

Of all my precious pearls not one is bored;

Alas! there die with me a thousand truths

To which these fools fit audience ne'er accord.