Others

Dedication - The Poems Of Goeth

The morn arrived; his footstep quickly scared

The gentle sleep that round my senses clung,
And I, awak'ning, from my cottage fared,


And up the mountain side with light heart sprung;
At every step I felt my gaze ensnared


By new-born flow'rs that full of dew-drops hung;
The youthful day awoke with ecstacy,
And all things quicken'd were, to quicken me.


And as I mounted, from the valley rose


A streaky mist, that upward slowly spread,
Then bent, as though my form it would enclose,


Then, as on pinions, soar'd above my head:
My gaze could now on no fair view repose,


in mournful veil conceal'd, the world seem'd dead;
The clouds soon closed around me, as a tomb,
And I was left alone in twilight gloom.


At once the sun his lustre seem'd to pour,


And through the mist was seen a radiant light;
Here sank it gently to the ground once more,


There parted it, and climb'd o'er wood and height.
How did I yearn to greet him as of yore,


After the darkness waxing doubly bright!
The airy conflict ofttimes was renew'd,
Then blinded by a dazzling glow I stood.


Ere long an inward impulse prompted me


A hasty glance with boldness round to throw;
At first mine eyes had scarcely strength to see,


For all around appear'd to burn and glow.
Then saw I, on the clouds borne gracefully,


A godlike woman hov'ring to and fro.
In life I ne'er had seen a form so fair--
She gazed at me, and still she hover'd there.


"Dost thou not know me?" were the words she said


In tones where love and faith were sweetly bound;
"Knowest thou not Her who oftentimes hath shed



The purest balsam in each earthly wound?
Thou knows't me well; thy panting heart I led


To join me in a bond with rapture crown'd.
Did I not see thee, when a stripling, yearning
To welcome me with tears, heartfelt and burning?"


"Yes!" I exclaim'd, whilst, overcome with joy,


I sank to earth; "I long have worshipp'd thee;
Thou gav'st me rest, when passions rack'd the boy,


Pervading ev'ry limb unceasingly;
Thy heav'nly pinions thou didst then employ


The scorching sunbeams to ward off from me.
From thee alone Earth's fairest gifts I gain'd,
Through thee alone, true bliss can be obtain'd.


"Thy name I know not; yet I hear thee nam'd


By many a one who boasts thee as his own;
Each eye believes that tow'rd thy form 'tis aim'd,


Yet to most eyes thy rays are anguish-sown.
Ah! whilst I err'd, full many a friend I claim'd,


Now that I know thee, I am left alone;
With but myself can I my rapture share,
I needs must veil and hide thy radiance fair.


She smiled, and answering said: "Thou see'st how wise,


How prudent 'twas but little to unveil!
Scarce from the clumsiest cheat are clear'd thine eyes,


Scarce hast thou strength thy childish bars to scale,
When thou dost rank thee 'mongst the deities,


And so man's duties to perform would'st fail!
How dost thou differ from all other men?
Live with the world in peace, and know thee then!"


"Oh, pardon me," I cried, "I meant it well:


Not vainly did'st thou bless mine eyes with light;
For in my blood glad aspirations swell,


The value of thy gifts I know aright!
Those treasures in my breast for others dwell,



The buried pound no more I'll hide from sight.
Why did I seek the road so anxiously,
If hidden from my brethren 'twere to be?"


And as I answer'd, tow'rd me turn'd her face,


With kindly sympathy, that god-like one;
Within her eye full plainly could I trace


What I had fail'd in, and what rightly done.
She smiled, and cured me with that smile's sweet grace,


To new-born joys my spirit soar'd anon;
With inward confidence I now could dare
To draw yet closer, and observe her there.


Through the light cloud she then stretch'd forth her hand,


As if to bid the streaky vapour fly:
At once it seemed to yield to her command,


Contracted, and no mist then met mine eye.
My glance once more survey'd the smiling land,


Unclouded and serene appear'd the sky.
Nought but a veil of purest white she held,
And round her in a thousand folds it swell'd.


"I know thee, and I know thy wav'ring will.


I know the good that lives and glows in thee!"--
Thus spake she, and methinks I hear her still-


"The prize long destined, now receive from me;
That blest one will be safe from ev'ry ill,


Who takes this gift with soul of purity,--"
The veil of Minstrelsy from Truth's own hand,
Of sunlight and of morn's sweet fragrance plann'd.


"And when thou and thy friends at fierce noon-day


Are parched with heat, straight cast it in the air!
Then Zephyr's cooling breath will round you play,


Distilling balm and flowers' sweet incense there;
The tones of earthly woe will die away,


The grave become a bed of clouds so fair,
To sing to rest life's billows will be seen,
The day be lovely, and the night serene."-



Come, then, my friends! and whensoe'er ye find


Upon your way increase life's heavy load;
If by fresh-waken'd blessings flowers are twin'd


Around your path, and golden fruits bestow'd,
We'll seek the coming day with joyous mind!


Thus blest, we'll live, thus wander on our road
And when our grandsons sorrow o'er our tomb,
Our love, to glad their bosoms, still shall bloom.

Dedication - The Poems Of Goeth

The morn arrived; his footstep quickly scared

The gentle sleep that round my senses clung,
And I, awak'ning, from my cottage fared,


And up the mountain side with light heart sprung;
At every step I felt my gaze ensnared


By new-born flow'rs that full of dew-drops hung;
The youthful day awoke with ecstacy,
And all things quicken'd were, to quicken me.


And as I mounted, from the valley rose


A streaky mist, that upward slowly spread,
Then bent, as though my form it would enclose,


Then, as on pinions, soar'd above my head:
My gaze could now on no fair view repose,


in mournful veil conceal'd, the world seem'd dead;
The clouds soon closed around me, as a tomb,
And I was left alone in twilight gloom.


At once the sun his lustre seem'd to pour,


And through the mist was seen a radiant light;
Here sank it gently to the ground once more,


There parted it, and climb'd o'er wood and height.
How did I yearn to greet him as of yore,


After the darkness waxing doubly bright!
The airy conflict ofttimes was renew'd,
Then blinded by a dazzling glow I stood.


Ere long an inward impulse prompted me


A hasty glance with boldness round to throw;
At first mine eyes had scarcely strength to see,


For all around appear'd to burn and glow.
Then saw I, on the clouds borne gracefully,


A godlike woman hov'ring to and fro.
In life I ne'er had seen a form so fair--
She gazed at me, and still she hover'd there.


"Dost thou not know me?" were the words she said


In tones where love and faith were sweetly bound;
"Knowest thou not Her who oftentimes hath shed



The purest balsam in each earthly wound?
Thou knows't me well; thy panting heart I led


To join me in a bond with rapture crown'd.
Did I not see thee, when a stripling, yearning
To welcome me with tears, heartfelt and burning?"


"Yes!" I exclaim'd, whilst, overcome with joy,


I sank to earth; "I long have worshipp'd thee;
Thou gav'st me rest, when passions rack'd the boy,


Pervading ev'ry limb unceasingly;
Thy heav'nly pinions thou didst then employ


The scorching sunbeams to ward off from me.
From thee alone Earth's fairest gifts I gain'd,
Through thee alone, true bliss can be obtain'd.


"Thy name I know not; yet I hear thee nam'd


By many a one who boasts thee as his own;
Each eye believes that tow'rd thy form 'tis aim'd,


Yet to most eyes thy rays are anguish-sown.
Ah! whilst I err'd, full many a friend I claim'd,


Now that I know thee, I am left alone;
With but myself can I my rapture share,
I needs must veil and hide thy radiance fair.


She smiled, and answering said: "Thou see'st how wise,


How prudent 'twas but little to unveil!
Scarce from the clumsiest cheat are clear'd thine eyes,


Scarce hast thou strength thy childish bars to scale,
When thou dost rank thee 'mongst the deities,


And so man's duties to perform would'st fail!
How dost thou differ from all other men?
Live with the world in peace, and know thee then!"


"Oh, pardon me," I cried, "I meant it well:


Not vainly did'st thou bless mine eyes with light;
For in my blood glad aspirations swell,


The value of thy gifts I know aright!
Those treasures in my breast for others dwell,



The buried pound no more I'll hide from sight.
Why did I seek the road so anxiously,
If hidden from my brethren 'twere to be?"


And as I answer'd, tow'rd me turn'd her face,


With kindly sympathy, that god-like one;
Within her eye full plainly could I trace


What I had fail'd in, and what rightly done.
She smiled, and cured me with that smile's sweet grace,


To new-born joys my spirit soar'd anon;
With inward confidence I now could dare
To draw yet closer, and observe her there.


Through the light cloud she then stretch'd forth her hand,


As if to bid the streaky vapour fly:
At once it seemed to yield to her command,


Contracted, and no mist then met mine eye.
My glance once more survey'd the smiling land,


Unclouded and serene appear'd the sky.
Nought but a veil of purest white she held,
And round her in a thousand folds it swell'd.


"I know thee, and I know thy wav'ring will.


I know the good that lives and glows in thee!"--
Thus spake she, and methinks I hear her still-


"The prize long destined, now receive from me;
That blest one will be safe from ev'ry ill,


Who takes this gift with soul of purity,--"
The veil of Minstrelsy from Truth's own hand,
Of sunlight and of morn's sweet fragrance plann'd.


"And when thou and thy friends at fierce noon-day


Are parched with heat, straight cast it in the air!
Then Zephyr's cooling breath will round you play,


Distilling balm and flowers' sweet incense there;
The tones of earthly woe will die away,


The grave become a bed of clouds so fair,
To sing to rest life's billows will be seen,
The day be lovely, and the night serene."-



Come, then, my friends! and whensoe'er ye find


Upon your way increase life's heavy load;
If by fresh-waken'd blessings flowers are twin'd


Around your path, and golden fruits bestow'd,
We'll seek the coming day with joyous mind!


Thus blest, we'll live, thus wander on our road
And when our grandsons sorrow o'er our tomb,
Our love, to glad their bosoms, still shall bloom.

Coptic Song

LEAVE we the pedants to quarrel and strive,

Rigid and cautious the teachers to be!
All of the wisest men e'er seen alive
Smile, nod, and join in the chorus with me:


"Vain 'tis to wait till the dolt grows less silly!
Play then the fool with the fool, willy-nilly,--

Children of wisdom,--remember the word!"
Merlin the old, from his glittering grave,
When I, a stripling, once spoke to him,--gave

Just the same answer as that I've preferr'd;
"Vain 'tis to wait till the dolt grows less silly!
Play then the fool with the fool, willy-nilly,--

Children of wisdom,--remember the word!"

And on the Indian breeze as it booms,
And in the depths of Egyptian tombs,
Only the same holy saying I've heard:

"Vain 'tis to wait till the dolt grows less silly!
Play then the fool with the fool, willy-nilly,--
Children of wisdom,--remember the word!"

Conflict Of Wit And Beauty

Sir Wit, who is so much esteem'd,
And who is worthy of all honour,
Saw Beauty his superior deem'd
By folks who loved to gaze upon her;
At this he was most sorely vex'd.


Then came Sir Breath (long known as fit
To represent the cause of wit),
Beginning, rudely, I admit,
To treat the lady with a text.


To this she hearken'd not at all,
But hasten'd to his principal:
'None are so wise, they say, as you,--
Is not the world enough for two?


If you are obstinate, good-bye!
If wise, to love me you will try,
For be assured the world can ne'er
Give birth to a more handsome pair.'

Calm At Sea

SILENCE deep rules o'er the waters,

Calmly slumb'ring lies the main,
While the sailor views with trouble
Nought but one vast level plain.
Not a zephyr is in motion!
Silence fearful as the grave!


In the mighty waste of ocean
Sunk to rest is ev'ry wave.

Book Of Timur - To Suleika

FITTING perfumes to prepare,

And to raise thy rapture high,
Must a thousand rosebuds fair
First in fiery torments die.
One small flask's contents to glean,
Whose sweet fragrance aye may live,


Slender as thy finger e'en,
Must a world its treasures give;
Yes, a world where life is moving,
Which, with impulse full and strong,


Could forbode the Bulbul's loving,
Sweet, and spirit-stirring song.
Since they thus have swell'd our joy,
Should such torments grieve us, then?


Doth not Timur's rule destroy
Myriad souls of living men?

Book Of Suleika - These Tufted Branches

THESE tufted branches fair

Observe, my loved one, well!
And see the fruits they bear
In green and prickly shell!
They've hung roll'd up, till now,
Unconsciously and still;


A loosely-waving bough
Doth rock them at its will.
Yet, ripening from within.
The kernel brown swells fast;


It seeks the air to win,
It seeks the sun at last.
With joy it bursts its thrall,
The shell must needs give way.


'Tis thus my numbers fall
Before thy feet, each day.

Book Of Suleika - Hatem 03

HOLD me, locks, securely caught

In the circle of her face!
Dear brown serpents, I have nought
To repay this act of grace,
Save a heart whose love ne'er dies,
Throbbing with aye-youthful glow;


For a raging ETA lies
'Neath its veil of mist and snow.
Yonder mountain's stately brow
Thou, like morning beams, dost shame;


Once again feels Hatem now
Spring's soft breath and summer's flame.
One more bumper! Fill the glass;
This last cup I pledge to thee!--


By mine ashes if she pass,
"He consumed," she'll say, "for me."

Book Of Suleika - Hatem 01

NOT occasion makes the thief;

She's the greatest of the whole;
For Love's relics, to my grief,
From my aching heart she stole.
She hath given it to thee,--
All the joy my life had known,


So that, in my poverty,
Life I seek from thee alone.
Yet compassion greets me straight
In the lustre of thine eye,


And I bless my newborn fate,
As within thine arms I lie.

Book Of Parables - In The Koran With Strange Delight

In the Koran with strange delight
A peacock's feather met my sight:
Thou'rt welcome in this holy place,
The highest prize on earth's wide face!
As in the stars of heaven, in thee,
God's greatness in the small we see;
For he whose gaze whole worlds bath bless'd
His eye hath even here impress'd,
And the light down in beauty dress'd,
So that e'en monarchs cannot hope
In splendour with the bird to cope.
Meekly enjoy thy happy lot,
And so deserve that holy spot!

Book Of Parables - In The Koran With Strange Delight

In the Koran with strange delight
A peacock's feather met my sight:
Thou'rt welcome in this holy place,
The highest prize on earth's wide face!
As in the stars of heaven, in thee,
God's greatness in the small we see;
For he whose gaze whole worlds bath bless'd
His eye hath even here impress'd,
And the light down in beauty dress'd,
So that e'en monarchs cannot hope
In splendour with the bird to cope.
Meekly enjoy thy happy lot,
And so deserve that holy spot!

Book Of Paradise - The Privileged Men

AFTER THE BATTLE OF BADE, BENEATH THE CANOPY OF HEAVEN.

MAHOMET (Speaks).
LET the foeman sorrow o'er his dead,
Ne'er will they return again to light;


O'er our brethren let no tear be shed,
For they dwell above yon spheres so bright.
All the seven planets open throw
All their metal doors with mighty shock,


And the forms of those we loved below
At the gates of Eden boldly knock.
There they find, with bliss ne'er dream'd before,
Glories that my flight first show'd to eye,


When the wondrous steed my person bore
In one second through the realms on high.
Wisdom's trees, in cypress-order growing,
High uphold the golden apples sweet;


Trees of life, their spreading shadows throwing,
Shade each blossoming plant, each flow'ry seat.
Now a balmy zephyr from the East
Brings the heavenly maidens to thy view;


With the eye thou now dost taste the feast,
Soon the sight pervades thee through and through.
There they stand, to ask thee thy career:
Mighty plans? or dangerous bloody rout?


Thou'rt a hero, know they,--for Thourt here,
What a hero?--This they'll fathom out.
By thy wounds soon clearly this is shown,
Wounds that write thy fame's undying story;


Wounds the true believer mark alone,



When have perish'd joy and earthly glory.
To chiosks and arbors thou art brought,
Fill'd with checkered marble columns bright;


To the noble grape-juice, solace-fraught,
They the guest with kindly sips invite.
Youth! Thou'rt welcome more than e'er was youth
All alike are radiant and serene;


When thou tak'st one to thine heart with truth,
Of thy band she'll be the friend and queen.
So prepare thee for this place of rest,
Never can it now be changed again;


Maids like these will ever make thee blest,
Wines like these will never harm thy brain.

Book Of Paradise - The Privileged Men

AFTER THE BATTLE OF BADE, BENEATH THE CANOPY OF HEAVEN.

MAHOMET (Speaks).
LET the foeman sorrow o'er his dead,
Ne'er will they return again to light;


O'er our brethren let no tear be shed,
For they dwell above yon spheres so bright.
All the seven planets open throw
All their metal doors with mighty shock,


And the forms of those we loved below
At the gates of Eden boldly knock.
There they find, with bliss ne'er dream'd before,
Glories that my flight first show'd to eye,


When the wondrous steed my person bore
In one second through the realms on high.
Wisdom's trees, in cypress-order growing,
High uphold the golden apples sweet;


Trees of life, their spreading shadows throwing,
Shade each blossoming plant, each flow'ry seat.
Now a balmy zephyr from the East
Brings the heavenly maidens to thy view;


With the eye thou now dost taste the feast,
Soon the sight pervades thee through and through.
There they stand, to ask thee thy career:
Mighty plans? or dangerous bloody rout?


Thou'rt a hero, know they,--for Thourt here,
What a hero?--This they'll fathom out.
By thy wounds soon clearly this is shown,
Wounds that write thy fame's undying story;


Wounds the true believer mark alone,



When have perish'd joy and earthly glory.
To chiosks and arbors thou art brought,
Fill'd with checkered marble columns bright;


To the noble grape-juice, solace-fraught,
They the guest with kindly sips invite.
Youth! Thou'rt welcome more than e'er was youth
All alike are radiant and serene;


When thou tak'st one to thine heart with truth,
Of thy band she'll be the friend and queen.
So prepare thee for this place of rest,
Never can it now be changed again;


Maids like these will ever make thee blest,
Wines like these will never harm thy brain.

Book Of Love - The Types

LIST, and in memory bear
These six fond loving pair.
Love, when aroused, kept true
Rustan and Rad!
Strangers approach from far
Joseph and Suleika;
Love, void of hope, is in
Ferhad and Schirin.
Born for each other are
Medschnun and Lily;
Loving, though old and grey,
Dschemil saw Boteinah.
Love's sweet caprice anon,
Brown maid and Solomon!
If thou dost mark them well,
Stronger thy love will swell.

Book Of Parables - Bulbul's Song

BULBUL'S song, through night hours cold,
Rose to Allah's throne on high;
To reward her melody,


Giveth he a cage of gold.
Such a cage are limbs of men,--


Though at first she feels confin'd,
Yet when all she brings to mind,
Straight the spirit sings again.

Book Of Hafis - The Unlimited

THAT thou can't never end, doth make thee great,
And that thou ne'er beginnest, is thy fate.
Thy song is changeful as yon starry frame,
End and beginning evermore the same;
And what the middle bringeth, but contains
What was at first, and what at last remains.
Thou art of joy the true and minstrel-source,
From thee pours wave on wave with ceaseless force.
A mouth that's aye prepared to kiss,


A breast whence flows a loving song,
A throat that finds no draught amiss,


An open heart that knows no wrong.


And what though all the world should sink!


Hafis, with thee, alone with thee


Will I contend! joy, misery,


The portion of us twain shall be;
Like thee to love, like thee to drink,--


This be my pride,--this, life to me!


Now, Song, with thine own fire be sung,--
For thou art older, thou more young!

Book Of Love - Love's Torments

LOVE's torments sought a place of rest,
Where all might drear and lonely be;
They found ere long my desert breast,
And nestled in its vacancy.

Book Of Contemplation - Suleika

THE mirror tells me, I am fair!

Thou sayest, to grow old my fate will be.
Nought in God's presence changeth e'er,--
Love him, for this one moment, then, in me.

Book Of Contemplation - Suleika

THE mirror tells me, I am fair!

Thou sayest, to grow old my fate will be.
Nought in God's presence changeth e'er,--
Love him, for this one moment, then, in me.

Authors


OVER the meadows, and down the stream,

And through the garden-walks straying,
He plucks the flowers that fairest seem;


His throbbing heart brooks no delaying.
His maiden then comes--oh, what ecstasy!
Thy flowers thou giv'st for one glance of her eye!


The gard'ner next door o'er the hedge sees the youth:
"I'm not such a fool as that, in good truth;
My pleasure is ever to cherish each flower,
And see that no birds my fruit e'er devour.
But when 'tis ripe, your money, good neighbour!
'Twas not for nothing I took all this labour!"
And such, methinks, are the author-tribe.


The one his pleasures around him strews,


That his friends, the public, may reap, if they choose;
The other would fain make them all subscribe.

Apparent Death

WEEP, maiden, weep here o'er the tomb of Love;

He died of nothing--by mere chance was slain.
But is he really dead?--oh, that I cannot prove:
A nothing, a mere chance, oft gives him life again.

After-Sensations


WHEN the vine again is blowing,
Then the wine moves in the cask;
When the rose again is glowing,

Wherefore should I feel oppress'd?
Down my cheeks run tears all-burning,
If I do, or leave my task;

I but feel a speechless yearning,

That pervades my inmost breast.
But at length I see the reason,
When the question I would ask:

'Twas in such a beauteous season,

Doris glowed to make me blest!

Anacreon's Grave

HERE where the roses blossom, where vines round the laurels are twining,
Where the turtle-dove calls, where the blithe cricket is heard,
Say, whose grave can this be, with life by all the Immortals


Beauteously planted and deck'd?--Here doth Anacreon sleep
Spring and summer and autumn rejoiced the thrice-happy minstrel,
And from the winter this mound kindly hath screen'd him at last.

A Parable

I PICKED a rustic nosegay lately,
And bore it homewards, musing greatly;
When, heated by my hand, I found
The heads all drooping tow'rd the ground.
I plac'd them in a well-cool'd glass,
And what a wonder came to pass
The heads soon raised themselves once more.
The stalks were blooming as before,
And all were in as good a case
As when they left their native place.


So felt I, when I wond'ring heard
My song to foreign tongues transferr'd.