Page:The Sacred Books and Early Literature of the East, Volume 08.djvu/85



O let us not forecast to-morrow's fears,

But count to-day as gain, my brave compeers!

To-morrow we shall quit this inn, and march

With comrades who have marched seven thousand years.

Ne'er for one moment leave your cup unused!

Wine keeps heart, faith, and reason too, amused;

Had Iblis swallowed but a single drop,

To worship Adam he had ne'er refused!

Come, dance! while we applaud thee, and adore

Thy sweet Narcissus eyes, and grape-juice pour;

A score of cups is no such great affair,

But 'tis enchanting when we reach three score!

I close the door of hope in my own face,

Nor sue for favors from good men, or base;

I have but One to lend a helping hand---

He knows, as well as I, my sorry case.

Ah! by these heavens, that ever circling run,

And by my own base lusts I am undone,

Without the wit to abandon worldly hopes,

And wanting sense the world's allures to shun!

On earth's green carpet many sleepers lie,

And hid beneath it others I descry;

And others, not yet come, or passed away,

People the desert of Non-entity!