Should he, apart from whom I've suffered a life-long illness, day by day, Bestow on me a glance, one only, beneath that orb dark-gray I'd die.

"The ruby of my lips," thou saidst, "now bale, now balsam may exhale": At one time from their healing balsam, at one time from their bale I'd die.

How trim thy gait! May eye of evil upon thy face be never bent!

There dwells within my head this fancy; that at thy feet content I'd die.

Though no place has been found for Hafiz In Love's retreat, where hid thou art, For me thine every part has beauty, Before thine every part-- I'd die.

LXIII

My heart has of the world grown weary and all that it can lend: The shrine of my affection holds no Being but my friend.

If e'er for me thy love's sweet garden a fragrant breath exhale, My heart, expansive in its joy, shall bud-like burst its veil.

Should I upon love's path advise thee, when now a fool I've grown, 'Twould be the story of the fool, the pitcher, and the stone.

Go! say to the secluded zealot: "Withhold thy blame; for know, I find the arch of the Mihrab[37] but in an eyebrow's bow."

Between the Ka'bah and the wine-house, no difference I see: Whate'er the spot my glance surveys, there equally is He.

'Tis not for beard, hair, eyebrow only, Kalandarism should care: The Kalandar computes the Path by adding hair to hair.[38]

The Kalandar who gives a hair's head, An easy path doth tread: The Kalandar of genuine stamp, As Hafiz gives his head.

LXIX

My heart desires the face so fair--Of Farrukh;[39]

It is perturbed as is the hair Of Farrukh.

No creature but that lock, that Hindu swart, Enjoyment from the cheek has sought Of Farrukh.

A blackamoor by Fortune blest is he, Placed at the side, and near the knee Of Farrukh.

Shy as the aspen is the cypress seen, Awed by the captivating mien Of Farrukh.

Saki, bring syrtis-tinted wine to tell Of those narcissi, potent spell Of Farrukh.

Bent as the archer's bow my frame is now, From woes continuous as the brow Of Farrukh.

E'en Tartar gales which musky odors whirl, Faint at the amber-breathing curl Of Farrukh.

If leans the human heart to any place, Mine has a yearning to the grace Of Farrukh.

That lofty soul Shall have my service true, That serves, as Hafiz, The Hindu--[40]

Of Farrukh.

LXXI

When now the rose upon the meadow from Nothing into Being springs, When at her feet the humble violet with her head low in worship clings,

Take from thy morn-filled cup refreshment while tabors and the harp inspire, Nor fail to kiss the chin of Saki while the flute warbles and the lyre.

Sit thou with wine, with harp, with charmer, until the rose's bloom be past; For as the days of life which pa.s.ses, is the brief week that she shall last.

The face of earth, from herbal mansions, is l.u.s.trous as the sky; and shines With asterisms of happy promise, with stars that are propitious signs.

In gardens let Zoroaster's worship again with all its rites revive, While now within the tulip's blossoms the fires of Nimrod[41] are alive.

Drink wine, presented by some beauty of Christ-like breath, of cheek fair-hued; And banish from thy mind traditions to ad relating, and Thamud.[42]

Earth rivals the Immortal Garden during the rose and lily's reign; But what avails when the immortal is sought for on this earth in vain?

When riding on the windy courser, as Solomon, the rose is found, And when the Bird, at hour of morning, makes David's melodies resound,

Ask thou, in Solomon's dominion, a goblet to the brim renewed; Pledge the Vizir, the cycle's asaf, the column of the Faith, Mahmud.

O Hafiz, while his days continue, let joy eternal be thine aim; And may the shadow of his kindness eternally abide the same!

Bring wine; for Hafiz, if in trouble, Will ceaselessly the help implore Of him who bounty shall aid ever, As it have aid vouchsafed before.

LXXVII

Upon the path of Love, O heart, deceit and risk are great!

And fall upon the way shall he who at swift rate Shall go.

Inflated by the wind of pride, the bubble's head may shine; But soon its cap of rule shall fall, and merged in wine Shall go.

O heart, when thou hast aged grown, show airs of grace no more: Remember that such ways as these when youth is o'er Shall go.

Has the black book of black locks closed, the alb.u.m yet shall stay, Though many a score the extracts be which day by day Shall go.

Lx.x.xV

To me love's echo is the sweetest sound Of all that 'neath this circling Round Hath stayed.

Lx.x.xVI