LXXXII

The Vine had struck a fibre: which about
If clings my being-let the Dervish flout;
Of my Base metal may be filed a Key,
That shall unlock the Door he howls without.

LXXXIII

And this I know: whether the one True Light Kindle to Love, or Wrath-consume me quite,

One Flash of It within the Tavern caught Better than in the Temple lost outright.

LXXXIV

What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke
A conscious Something to resent the yoke
Of unpermitted Pleasure, under pain
Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!

LXXXV

What! from his helpless Creature be repaid
Pure Gold for what he lent us dross-allay'd
Sue for a Debt we never did contract,
And cannot answer-Oh the sorry trade!

LXXXVI

Nay, but, for terror of his wrathful Face,
I swear I will not call Injustice Grace;

Not one Good Fellow of the Tavern but Would kick so poor a Coward from the place.

LXXXVII

Oh Thou, who didst with pitfall and with gin Beset the Road I was to wander in,

Thou wilt not with Predestined Evil round Enmesh, and then impute my Fall to Sin!

LXXXVIII

Oh, Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make,
And ev❜n with Paradise devise the Snake:

For all the Sin the Face of wretched Man
Is black with-Man's Forgiveness give-and take!

LXXXIX

As under cover of departing Day
Slunk hunger-stricken Ramazán away,

Once more within the Potter's house alone
I stood, surrounded by the Shapes of clay.

XC

And once again there gather'd a scarce heard
Whisper among them; as it were, the stirr'd
Ashes of some all but extinguisht Tongue,
Which mine ear kindled into living Word.

XCI

Said one among them-" Surely not in vain
My substance from the common Earth was ta'en
That he who subtly wrought me into Shape
Should stamp me back to shapeless Earth again?"

XCII

Another said "Why, ne'er a peevish Boy

Would break the Cup from which he drank in Joy;
Shall He that of His own free Fancy made
The Vessel, in an after-rage destroy!"

XCIII

None answer'd this; but after silence spake
Some Vessel of a more ungainly Make;

They sneer at me for leaning all awry: What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"

XCIV

Thus with the Dead as with the Living, What?
And Why? so ready, but the Wherefor not,

One on a sudden peevishly exclaim'd,

"Which is the Potter, pray, and which the Pot?"

XCV

Said one-" Folks of a surly Master tell,
And daub his Visage with the Smoke of Hell;
They talk of some sharp Trial of us-Pish!
He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well."

XCVI

"Well," said another, "Whoso will, let try, My Clay with long Oblivion is gone dry:

But fill me with the old familiar Juice, Methinks I might recover by and by."

XCVII

So while the Vessels one by one were speaking,
One spied the little Crescent all were seeking:

And then they jogg'd each other, "Brother! Brother! Now for the Porter's shoulder-knot a-creaking!"

*

*

*

XCVIII

Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide,
And wash my Body whence the Life has died,
And lay me, shrouded in the living Leaf,
By some not unfrequented Garden-side.

XCIX

Whither resorting from the vernal Heat
Shall Old Acquaintance Old Acquaintance greet,

Under the Branch that leans above the Wall

To shed his Blossom over head and feet.

с

Then ev'n my buried Ashes such a snare
Of Vintage shall fling up into the Air
As not a True-believer passing by
But shall be overtaken unaware.

CI

Indeed the Idols I have loved so long
Have done my credit in Men's eyes much wrong:
Have drown'd my Glory in a shallow Cup
And sold my Reputation for a Song.

CII

Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before

I swore-but was I sober when I swore?

And then and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand My thread-bare Penitence apieces tore.

CIII

And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel,
And robb'd me of my Robe of Honour-Well,
I often wonder what the Vintners buy
One half so precious as the ware they sell.

CIV

Yet Ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose !
That Youth's sweet-scented manuscript should close!
The Nightingale that in the branches sang,
Ah whence, and whither flown again, who knows!

CV

Would but the Desert of the Fountain yield
One glimpse-if dimly, yet indeed, reveal'd,

Toward which the fainting Traveller might spring, As springs the trampled herbage of the field!

CVI

Oh if the World were but to re-create,

That we might catch ere closed the Book of Fate,
And make The Writer on a fairer leaf
Inscribe our names, or quite obliterate!

CVII

Better, oh better, cancel from the Scroll
Of Universe one luckless Human Soul,

Than drop by drop enlarge the Flood that rolls
Hoarser with Anguish as the Ages roll.

CVIII

Ah Love! could you and I with Fate conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would not we shatter it to bits-and then
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!

CIX

But see! The rising Moon of Heav'n again

Looks for us, Sweet-heart, through the quivering Plane:
How oft hereafter rising will she look
Among those leaves-for one of us in vain!

CX

And when Yourself with silver Foot shall pass
Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass,
And in your joyous errand reach the spot
Where I made One-turn down an empty Glass!

TAMÁM