XXVI

Farewell, my soul!--bird in the narrow jail Who cannot sing. The door is opened! Fly!

Ah, soon you stop, and looking down you cry The saddest song of all, poor nightingale.

XXVII

Our fortune is like mariners to float Amid the perils of dim waterways; Shall then our seamanship have aught of praise If the great anchor drags behind the boat?

XXVIII

Ah! let the burial of yesterday, Of yesterday be ruthlessly decreed, And, if you will, refuse the mourner's reed, And, if you will, plant cypress in the way.

XXIX

As little shall it serve you in the fight If you remonstrate with the storming seas, As if you querulously sigh to these Of some imagined haven of delight.

x.x.x

Steed of my soul! when you and I were young We lived to cleave as arrows thro' the night,-- Now there is ta'en from me the last of light, And wheresoe'er I gaze a veil is hung.

x.x.xI

No longer as a wreck shall I be hurled Where beacons lure the fascinated helm, For I have been admitted to the realm Of darkness that encompa.s.ses the world.

x.x.xII

Man has been thought superior to the swarm Of ruminating cows, of witless foals Who, crouching when the voice of thunder rolls, Are banqueted upon a thunderstorm.

x.x.xIII

But shall the fearing eyes of humankind Have peeped beyond the curtain and excel The boldness of a wondering gazelle Or of a bird imprisoned in the wind?

x.x.xIV

Ah! never may we hope to win release Before we that unripeness overthrow,-- So must the corn in agitation grow Before the sickle sings the songs of peace.

x.x.xV

Lo! there are many ways and many traps And many guides, and which of them is lord?

For verily Mahomet has the sword, And he may have the truth--perhaps! _perhaps!_

x.x.xVI

Now this religion happens to prevail Until by that religion overthrown,-- Because men dare not live with men alone, But always with another fairy-tale.

x.x.xVII

Religion is a charming girl, I say; But over this poor threshold will not pa.s.s, For I may not unveil her, and alas!

The bridal gift I can't afford to pay.

x.x.xVIII

I have imagined that our welfare is Required to rise triumphant from defeat; And so the musk, which as the more you beat, Gives ever more delightful fragrancies.

x.x.xIX

For as a gate of sorrow-land unbars The region of unfaltering delight, So may you gather from the fields of night That harvest of diviner thought, the stars.

XL

Send into banishment whatever blows Across the waves of your tempestuous heart; Let every wish save Allah's wish depart, And you will have ineffable repose.

XLI

My faith it is that all the wanton pack Of living shall be--hush, poor heart!--withdrawn, As even to the camel comes a dawn Without a burden for his wounded back.

XLII

If there should be some truth in what they teach Of unrelenting Monkar and Nakyr, Before whose throne all buried men appear-- Then give me to the vultures, I beseech.

XLIII

Some yellow sand all hunger shall a.s.suage And for my thirst no cloud have need to roll, And ah! the drooping bird which is my soul No longer shall be prisoned in the cage.

XLIV

Life is a flame that flickers in the wind, A bird that crouches in the fowler's net-- Nor may between her flutterings forget That hour the dreams of youth were unconfined.

XLV