Part 2

Sweet are the perfumed flowers; yea, yea, what bliss Sootheth like hope’s fresh scent of loveliness?

Lovely, O nightingale, is thy lament; Ever to listening love thy plaint is dear; In the fond thought of love thy life is spent.

Though in this world joy’s goal is but a name, Fair is thy fadeless hope, blest wanderer, Beauteous its gentle fire & flickering flame.

From the pure lily heard I this clear song: ‘Happy their peaceful life who work no wrong;

Sweet idle flowers, whom heav’n’s sweet airs do kiss; No conqu’ring king hath joy more fair than this.’

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Thus spake at dawn to the fresh-open’d rose The courting-bird, ‘Cease thy so empty vaunt: Comelier than thou full many each day unclose.’

She laughed:—‘In truth I care not, ne’ertheless Strange lover thou, to use such harsh address: No gallant vexeth beauty with such taunt.

Or ever thou receive this ruby red, This wine, first must thy pearl’d disdainfulness In passion’s suppliant sea its jewels shed.’

O vain it were love’s chanting voice to chide! Though may no tongue those burning thoughts expound, The ardent fire of love no heart can hide.

In his all-whelming tears hath Hafez drowned Wisdom & patience, yet no peace hath found.

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Though beauty’s tress be strayed, ’tis beauteous still: Though her bright glance should wander, though it err & wound me, it shall be forgiven her; Yea, lov’d is the Belovéd though she kill.

Though should love’s light’ning ravage & consume Faith’s harvest, & the garner of the wise, Reproach not nor upbraid her: those bright eyes Have right all to destroy, that all illume.

Betwixt love’s roses should no sharpness be: Though not uncruel, not unblameworthy Wast thou, O sweet Love, blame thou only my Blemish, let not remorse endolour thee.

Yea, censure not afflicting love: thy part Is but forgiveness, O long-patient heart!

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Arise, O cup-bearer, & bring Fresh wine for our enrapturing! O minstrel, of our sorrow sing— ‘O joy of whose delight we dreamed, O love that erst so easy seemed, What toil is in thy travelling!’

How in the lov’d one’s tent can I Have any rest or gaiety? Ever anon the horsemen cry, ‘O lingering lover, fare thee well!’ Ever I hear the jingling bell Of waiting steed & harnessry.

O seeker who wouldst surely bring To happy end thy wandering, O learner who wouldst truly know, Let not earth’s loves arrest thee. Go! Mad thee with heaven’s pure wine & fling To those clear skies thy rapturing.

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Our toil is He, & eke our journey’s end; Our life-long ailment & our remedy, Our foeman & our ever-pitying friend;

Who is more vanquishing than victory, Fairer than beauty, more belov’d than life; This is he who our peace is & our strife.

Our strenuous earth is He & eke our Heaven, The crown of conquest & the armour riven, The strength, the struggle, yea, the failing even.

Of Him all is, & unto Him also Doth all return: torment & yearning woe Surely shall pass, even as pleasures go.

Yea, all have end, beggar & bountied king, Rapture & tears, resting & wandering.

INDEX OF FIRST LINES

NO.

When sunlight faileth 1

I called to fading day 2

O youth’s young cloudlet, O freshness free 3

Wend I, wander I, past all worlds that be 4

Eyes that o’er the landscape fly 5

O what availeth thee thy melting mood 6

All things born to break 7

If there be any power in passion’s prayer 8

In love’s great ocean, whose calm-shelter’d shore 9

When sorrow hath outsoar’d our nature’s clime 10

O gentle weariness 11

Peace, for whose presence we did erewhile call 12

Beauty is a waving tree 13

Wheresoever beauty flies 14

When first to earth thy gentle spirit came 15

For sake of these two splendours do the wise 16

She hath not beauty, that ill-fortun’d gem 17

When thou art gone, & when are gone all those 18

Play thou on men as on a harp’s string 19

Go, book: go, vessel laden with the mind 20

When the strong climber his last mountain-crest 21

Since neither man’s proud pomp & kingly name 22

Pureness of pale moon, loneness of far skies 23

AFTER HAFEZ

I saw fair Fortune, one clear morning, touch 24

Come let us drink & deeply drown 25

Once more, O happy hill & peaceful plain 26

Tell me not, mournful Preacher, that to prize 27

What madness ’twas, I know not, that thus enchanted me 28

She went.—O whither too, O one true love 29

I said, ‘O heavenly Leader, O truth’s day 30

Where is the pious doer? & I the estray’d one, where? 31

I said, ‘Thou knowest, O all-knowing Friend 32

My heart the chamber of His musing is 33

Fair is the leisure of life’s garden-ground 34

Thus spake at dawn to the fresh-open’d rose 35

Though beauty’s tress be strayed, ’tis beauteous still 36

Arise, O cup-bearer, & bring 37

Our toil is He, & eke our journey’s end 38