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4
RUBÁIYÁT OF
XIV.
Turns Ashes—or it prospers; and anon,
Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face
Lighting a little Hour or two—is gone.
XV.
And those who flung it to the Winds like Rain,
Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd
As, buried once, Men want dug up again.
XVI.
Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day,
How Sultán after Sultán with his Pomp
Abode his Hour or two, and went his way.
XVII.
The Courts where Jamshýd gloried and drank deep:11
And Bahrám, that great Hunter—the Wild Ass
Stamps o'er his Head, and he lies fast asleep.
XVIII.
The Rose as where some buried Cæsar bled;
That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head.