Though to the service of the King we bound are,
Kings of the realm of morning-tide we crowned are.

Treasure in sleeve and empty purse, world-showing
Cup we, at once, and way-dust of the ground, are.

Sober in practice and illusion-drunken,
We're seas of Unity and yet sin-drowned are.

We, whenas strumpet Fortune looketh kindly,
The mirror of her cheek like the moon's round are.

Each night, about the crown our prayers still watching
Of yonder king, for fortune high-renowned, are.

Bid him our blessing reckon gain; for sleeping
What while he is, we waking him around are.

Shah Mensour knoweth that to wheresoever
Our faces set in resolution found are,

In bloody shrouds we cause the foemen welter
And by our blessing friends with victory crowned are.

On us no stain of fraud is; we one-coloured,
Red lion like, black asp and sandy mound, are.

Bid them, o King, his dues to Hafiz render;
Avouched hast thou and we to witness bound are.