Think not I dread from out the world to hie, And see my disembodied spirit fly; I tremble not at death, for death is true, 'Tis my ill life that makes me fear to die!

319. C. L. N. A. I. J. Death is true, _i.e._ a certainty. So Sir Philip Sidney (after M. Aurelius), Since Nature's works be good, and death doth serve as Nature's work, why should we fear to die?

320.

Let us shake off dull reason's incubus, Our tale of days or years cease to discuss, And take our jugs, and plenish them with wine, Or e'er grim potters make their jugs of us!

320. C. L. N. A. B. I. J.

321.

How much more wilt thou chide, O raw divine, For that I drink, and am a libertine?

Thou hast thy weary beads, and saintly show, Leave me my cheerful sweetheart, and my wine!

321. C. L. N. A. I. J.

322.

Against my l.u.s.ts I ever war, in vain, I think on my ill deeds with shame and pain; I trust Thou wilt a.s.soil me of my sins, But even so, my shame must still remain.

322. C. L. N. A. B. I.

323.

In these twin compa.s.ses, O Love, you see One body with two heads, like you and me, Which wander round one centre, circlewise.

But at the last in one same point agree.

323. C. L. N. A. I. Mr. Fitzgerald quotes a similar figure used by the poet Donne, for which see Ward's English Poets, i. 562. The two heads are the points of the compa.s.ses.

324.

We shall not stay here long, but while we do, 'Tis folly wine and sweethearts to eschew; Why ask if earth etern or transient be?

Since you must go, it matters not to you.

324. C. L. N. A. B. I. J.

325.

In reverent sort to mosque I wend my way, But, by great Allah, it is not to pray; No! but to steal a prayer-mat! When 'tis worn, I go again, another to purvey.

325. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. To steal a prayer-mat is to pray to be seen of men.--Nicolas. A satire on some hypocrite, perhaps himself.

326.

No more let fate's annoys our peace consume, But let us rather rosy wine consume, The world our murderer is, and wine its blood, Shall we not then that murderer's blood consume?

326. L. N. See Koran, ii. 187.

327.

For Thee I vow to cast repute away, And, if I shrink, the penalty to pay; Though life might satisfy Thy cruelty, 'Twere naught, I'll bear it till the judgment-day!

327. C. L. N. A. B. I.

328.

In Being's rondure do we stray belated, Our pride of manhood humbled and abated; Would we were gone! long since have we been wearied With this world's griefs, and with its pleasures sated.

328. L. N.

329.

The world is false, so I'll be false as well, And with bright wine, and gladness ever dwell!

They say, May Allah grant thee penitence!

He grants it not, and, did he, I'd rebel!

329. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. A pun in the original.

330.

When Death shall tread me down upon the plain, And pluck my feathers, and my life-blood drain, Then mould me to a cup, and fill with wine, Haply its scent will make me breathe again.

330. C. L. N. A. B. I. J.

331.

So far as this world's dealings I have traced, I find its favours shamefully misplaced; Allah be praised! I see myself debarred From all its boons, and wrongfully disgraced.

331. C. L. N. A. I. _Alam hama_, etc., states entirely gratuitous.

Write _baran_ without a _madd_. Bl., Prosody, p. 11. Compare Shakespeare, Sonnet 66.

332.

'Tis dawn! my heart with wine I will recruit, And dash to bits the gla.s.s of good repute; My long-extending hopes I will renounce, And grasp long tresses, and the charming lute.