ot, with no stouter weapon than a Love-lock,
Idly reclining on a Silver Breast.
Go, fly thine Arrow at the Antelope
And Lion--let not me my Lion see
Slain by the Arrow eyes of a Ghazal.
Go, flash thy Steel among the Ranks of Men,
And smite the Warriors' Necks; not, flying them,
Lay down thine own beneath a Woman's Foot,
Leave off such doing in the Name of God,
Nor bring thy Father weeping to the Ground;
Years have I held myself aloft, and all
For Thee--Oh Shame if thou prepare my Fall!"

When before Shirueh's Feet
Drencht in Blood fell Kai Khusrau,
He declared this Parable--
"Wretch!--There was a Branch that, waxing
Wanton o'er the Root he drank from,
At a Draught the Living Water
Drain'd wherewith Himself to crown!
Died the Root--and with it died
The Branch--and barren was brought down!"

XV.

Salaman heard--the Sea of his Soul was mov'd,
And bubbled up with Jewels, and he said;
"Oh Shah, I am the Slave of thy Desire,
Dust of thy Throne ascending Foot am I;
Whatever thou Desirest I would do,
But sicken of my own Incompetence;
Not in the Hand of my infirmer Will
To carry into Deed mine own Desire.
Time upon Time I torture mine own Soul,
Devising liberation from the Snare
I languish in. But when upon that Moon
I _think_, my Soul relapses--and when _look_--
I leave both Worlds behind to follow her!"

XVI.

The Shah ceased Counsel, and the Sage began.
"Oh Thou new Vintage of a Garden old,
Last Blazon of the Pen of 'Let There Be,'
Who read'st the Seven and Four; interpretest
The writing on the Leaves of Night and Day--
Archetype of the Assembly of the World,
Who hold'st the Key of Adam's Treasury--
(Know thine own Dignity and slight it not,
For Thou art Greater yet than all I tell)--
The Mighty Hand that mix'd thy Dust inscribed
The Character of Wisdom on thy Heart;
O Cleanse Thy Bosom of Material Form,
And turn the Mirror of the Soul to Spirit,
Until it be with Spirit all possest,
Drown'd in the Light of Intellectual Truth.
Oh veil thine Eyes from Mortal Paramour,
And follow not her Step!--For what is She?--
What is She but a Vice and a Reproach,
Her very Garment-hem Pollution!
For such Pollution madden not thine Eyes,
Waste not thy Body's