XIII.

O changing Wheel of Fate, still let there last Before our eager eyes, still let there burn, This vision of the world; when we have pa.s.sed There shall be no return.

I thought that, leaving thee, rest would be mine, My lost tranquillity I might regain, But separation brings no anodyne, And kills me with its pain.

How can I traffic in Love's busy mart?

Thou hast won from me more than stores of gold; That I may bargain, give me back the heart Thy cruel fingers hold.

O heart desirous, in Love's perilous way Thy journey take and in his paths abide, And thou mayst find perchance, lest thou should stray, Awaiting thee, a guide.

DAGH.

XIV.

O Weaver of Excuses, what to thee Are all the promises that thou hast made, The truth derided, and the faith betrayed, And all thy perfidy?

Sometimes thou sayest--Come at eventide: And when the evening falls, thou sayest--Dawn Was when I called thee. Even when night is gone I wait unsatisfied.

When in thy haughty ear they did commend Me as the faithfullest of all thy train, Thou saidst--I hold such lovers in disdain, I scoff at such a friend.

O Mischief-maker, pa.s.sing-on thy way So lovely is thy mien, all creatures must Cry out--It is debarred to things of dust To walk so winningly.

Why shouldst thou keep from tyranny anew?

Why shouldst thou not betray another one?

What matter if he die? Thou hast but done What thou wast born to do.

Who cares not for his heart nor for his creed Is the idolater. His worthless name Is Dagh. O Fair Ones, look upon his shame!

He is disgraced indeed.

DAGH.

XV.

Thy love permits not my complaint to rise, It reaches to my lips, and then it dies.

Now, helpless heart, I cannot aid thee more, And thus for thee G.o.d's pity must implore.

Seest thou not how much disgrace and pain The scornful world has heaped upon us twain, On thee for beauty and the sins thereof, On me for this infirmity of love.

Oft-times she will not speak to me at all, Or if she deign to speak, the words that fall Cold from her haughty lips are words of blame: --I know thee not--I have not heard thy name!

Deep in my memory was graved the trace Of all I suffered since I saw thy face; But now, Beloved, thou hast come to me, I have erased the record utterly.

With empty hands all mortal men are whirled Through Death's grim gate into the other world: This is my pride that it is granted me To carry with me my desire for thee.

They say when I complain of all I bore --It is thy kismet, what would'st thou have more?

My rivals also bear thy tyranny, Saying--It is her custom and must be!

DAGH.

XVI.

I met you and the pain of separation was forgot, And all I should have kept in mind my heart remembered not.

What cruelty and scorn I in your bitter letters knew!

No love was there; O Gracious One, have you forgotten too?

Strange is the journey that my soul by wanton Love was led, Two steps were straight and clear, and four forgotten were instead.

There was some blundering o'er my fate at the Great Reckoning; You have forgot, O Keeper of the Record, many a thing.

You took my heart, but left my life behind: O see you not What thing you have remembered, and what thing you have forgot?

To meet Annihilation's sword is the most happy lot That man can gain, for all the joys of earth has he forgot.

A Muslim on the path of Love beside a Kafir trod, And one forgot the Kaaba, one the Temple of his G.o.d.

DAGH.

XVII.

What happiness is to the lover left Of peace bereft, What freedom for his captive heart remains Held in her chains?

Sometimes unto the mountain peaks he goes Driven by his woes, Sometimes within the barren wilderness Hides his distress.

Curses on Love, and may his home disgraced Be laid in waste!

To me the world and all the joys I sought Are less than naught.

Gladly, O Executioner, to Death I yield my breath; And only wonder who shall after me Thy victim be!