inner such as I?

ASIF.

XIII.

O changing Wheel of Fate, still let there last
Before our eager eyes, still let there burn,
This vision of the world; when we have passed
There shall be no return.

I thought that, leaving thee, rest would be mine,
My lost tranquillity I might regain,
But separation brings no anodyne,
And kills me with its pain.

How can I traffic in Love's busy mart?
Thou hast won from me more than stores of gold;
That I may bargain, give me back the heart
Thy cruel fingers hold.

O heart desirous, in Love's perilous way
Thy journey take and in his paths abide,
And thou mayst find perchance, lest thou should stray,
Awaiting thee, a guide.

DAGH.

XIV.

O Weaver of Excuses, what to thee
Are all the promises that thou hast made,
The truth derided, and the faith betrayed,
And all thy perfidy?

Sometimes thou sayest--Come at eventide:
And when the evening falls, thou sayest--Dawn
Was when I called thee. Even when night is gone
I wait unsatisfied.

When in thy haughty ear they did commend
Me as the faithfullest of all thy train,
Thou saidst--I hold such lovers in disdain,
I scoff at such a friend.

O Mischief-maker, passing-on thy way
So lovely is thy mien, all creatures must
Cry out--It is debarred to things of dust
To walk so winningly.

Why shouldst thou keep from tyranny anew?
Why shouldst thou not betray another one?
What matter if he die? Thou hast but done
What thou wast born to do.

Who cares not for his heart nor for his creed
Is the idolater. His worthless name
Is Dagh. O Fair Ones, look upon his shame!
He is disgraced indeed.

DAGH.

XV.

Thy love permits not my complaint to rise,
It reaches to my lips, and then it dies.
Now, helpless heart, I cannot aid thee more,
And thus for thee God's pity must implore.

Seest thou not how much disgrace and pain
The scornful world has heaped upon us twain,
On thee for beauty and the sins thereof,
On me for this infirmity of love.

Oft-times she will not speak to me at all,
Or if she deign to speak, the words that fall
Cold from her haughty lips are words of blame:
--I know thee not--I have not heard thy name!

Deep in my memory was graved the trace
Of all I suffered since I saw thy face;
But now, Beloved, thou hast come to me,
I have erased the record utterly.

With empty hands all mortal men are whirled