English

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,

Y E'VE often, for our drunkenness,
Blamed us in ev'ry way,
And, in abuse of drunkenness,
Enough can never say.
Men, overcome by drunkenness,
Are wont to lie till day;
And yet I find my drunkenness
All night-time make me stray;
For, oh! 'tis Love's sweet drunkenness
That maketh me its prey,
Which, night and day, and day and night,
My heart must needs obey, —

Can it be! of stars the star,
Do I press thee to my heart?
In the night of distance far,
What deep gulf, what bitter smart!
Yes, 'tis thou, indeed, at last,
Of my joys the partner dear!
Mindful, though, of sorrows past,
I the present needs must fear.

When the still-unfashion'd earth
Lay on God's eternal breast,
He ordain'd its hour of birth,
With creative joy possess'd.

Zephyr , for thy humid wing,
Oh, how much I envy thee!
Thou to him canst tidings bring
How our parting saddens me!

In my breast, a yearning still
As thy pinions wave, appears;
Flow'rs and eyes, and wood, and hill
At thy breath are steep'd in tears.

Yet thy mild wing gives relief,
Soothes the aching eyelid's pain;
Ah, I else had died for grief,

What is by this stir reveal'd?
Doth the East glad tidings bring?
For my heart's deep wounds are heal'd
By his mild and cooling wing.

He the dust with sports doth meet,
And in gentle cloudlets chase;
To the vineleaf's safe retreat
Drives the insects' happy race,

Cools these burning cheeks of mine,
Checks the sun's fierce glow amain
Kisses, as he flies, the vine,

And wherefore sends not
The horseman-captain
His heralds hither
Each day, unfailing?
Yet hath he horses,
He writeth well.

He writeth Talik,
And Neski knows he
To write with beauty
On silken tablets.
I'd deem him present,
Had I his words.

The sick One will not,
Will not recover
From her sweet sorrow;
She, when she heareth
That her true lover
Grows well, falls sick.

The sun appears! A glorious sight!
The crescent-moon clings round him now.
What could this wondrous pair unite?
How to explain this riddle? How?

HATEM .

May this our joy's foreboder prove!
In it I view myself and thee;
Thou callest me thy sun, my love, —
Come, my sweet moon, cling thou round me!

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.

That Suleika's love was so strong
For Jussuf, need cause no surprise;
He was young, youth pleaseth the eyes, —
He was fair, they say, beyond measure
Fair was she, and so great was their pleasure.
But that thou, who awaitedst me long,
Youthful glances of fire dost throw me,
Soon wilt bless me, thy love now dost show me,
This shall my joyous numbers proclaim,
Thee I for ever Suleika shall name.

So the winter now closed round them
With resistless fury. Scatt'ring
Over all his breath so icy,
He inflamed each wind that bloweth
To assail them angrily.
Over them he gave dominion
To his frost-ensharpen'd tempests;
Down to Timur's council went he,
And with threat'ning voice address'd him: —
" Softly, slowly, wretched being!
Live, the tyrant of injustice;
But shall hearts be scorch'd much longer
By thy flames, — consume before them?
If amongst the evil spirits
Thou art one, — good! I'm another.