When on the mount is kindled morn’s sweet light,

Straightway, all-gladdening-one, salute I thee,
The arch of heaven o’er head grows pure and bright,—­

All-heart-expanding-one, then breathe I thee.

That which my inward, outward sense proclaims,

Thou all-instructing-one, I know through thee;
And if I utter Allah’s hundred names,

A name with each one echoes, meant for thee.

1819.*
-----
IX.  Sake name.

The convivial book.

Can the Koran from Eternity be?

’Tis worth not a thought! 
Can the Koran a creation, then, be?

Of that, I know nought! 
Yet that the book of all books it must be,

I believe, as a Mussulman ought. 
That from Eternity wine, though, must be,

I ever have thought;
That ’twas ordain’d, ere the Angels, to be,

As a truth may be taught. 
Drinkers, however these matters may be,

Gaze on God’s face, fearing nought.

1815.
-----
Ye’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,—­
A heart that, in its drunkenness,

Pours forth full many a lay,
So that no trifling drunkenness

Can dare assert its sway. 
Love, song, and wine’s sweet drunkenness,

By night-time and by day,—­
How god-like is the drunkenness

That maketh me its prey!

1815.
-----
X. Mathal name.

BOOK OF PARABLES.

From heaven there fell upon the foaming wave

A timid drop; the flood with anger roared,—­

But God, its modest boldness to reward,
Strength to the drop and firm endurance gave. 
Its form the mussel captive took,

And to its lasting glory and renown,

The pearl now glistens in our monarch’s crown,
With gentle gleam and loving look.

1819.*
-----
Bulbul’s song, through night hours cold,

Rose to Allah’s throne on high;

To reward her melody,
Giveth he a cage of gold. 
Such a cage are limbs of men,—­

Though at first she feels confin’d,

Yet when all she brings to mind,
Straight the spirit sings again.

1819.*
-----
In the Koran with strange delight
A peacock’s feather met my sight: 
Thou’rt welcome in this holy place,
The highest prize on earth’s wide face! 
As in the stars of heaven, in thee,
God’s greatness in the small we see;