414
Bulbuls, doting on roses, oft complain
How froward breezes rend their veils in twain;
Sit we beneath this rose, which many a time
Has sunk to earth, and sprung from earth again.
415
Suppose the world goes well with you, what then?
When life's last page is read and turned, what then?
Suppose you live a hundred years of bliss,
Yea, and a hundred years besides, what then?
416
How is it that of all the leafy tribe,
Cypress and lily men as "free " describe?
This has a dozen tongues, yet holds her peace,
That has a hundred hands which take no bribe.
417
Cupbearer, bring my wine-cup, let me grasp it!
Bring that delicious darling, let me grasp it!
That pleasing chain which tangles in its coils
Wise men and fools together, let me grasp it!
418
Alas! my wasted life has gone to wrack!
What with forbidden meats, and lusts, alack!
And leaving undone what 'twas right to do,
And doing wrong, my face is very black!
419
I could repent of all, but of wine, never!
I could dispense with all, but with wine, never!
If so be I became a Mussulman,
Could I abjure my Magian wine? no, never!
