Page:The Sacred Books and Early Literature of the East, Volume 08.djvu/81



Tell one by one my scanty virtues o'er;

As for my sins, forgive them by the score;

Let not my faults kindle Thy wrath to flame;

By blest Mohammed's tomb, forgive once more!

Grieve not at coming ill, you can't defeat it,

And what far-sighted person goes to meet it?

Cheer up! bear not about a world of grief,

Your fate is fixed, and grieving will not cheat it.

There is a chalice made with wit profound,

With tokens of the Maker's favor crowned;

Yet the world's Potter takes his masterpiece,

And dashes it to pieces on the ground!

In truth wine is a spirit thin as air,

A limpid soul in the cup's earthen ware;

No dull, dense person shall be friend of mine

Save wine-cups, which are dense and also rare.

O wheel of heaven! no ties of bread you feel,

No ties of salt, you flay me like an eel!

A woman's wheel spins clothes for man and wife,

It does more good than you, O heavenly wheel!

Did no fair rose my paradise adorn,

I would make shift to deck it with a thorn;

And if I lacked my prayer-mats, beads, and Shaikh,

Those Christian bells and stoles I would not scorn.