Targum | Page 2

we reck of what's hanging us o'er;?O would on the world that ye laid not such stress,?That its baubles ye lov'd not, so gaudy and poor;?O where are the friends we were wont to caress,?And where are the lov'd ones who dwelt on our floor??They have drank of the goblet of death's bitterness,?And have gone to the deep, to return never more;?Their mansions bewail them in tears and distress;?Yet has paradise lovelier mansions in store;?Of the worth of the plume the dove strips from its dress?Were their views, save in memory heaven they bore.
STANZAS.
From the Arabic.
On a Fountain.
In the fount fell my tears, like rain,?And straight defil'd became its flood;?How should it undefil'd remain,?All purpled o'er with human blood?
The Pursued.
How wretched roams the weary wight,?Who rage of keen pursuers fears;?The whole earth's surface in his sight?A hunter's treacherous net appears.
ODES.
From the Persian.
1.
Boy, hand my friends the cup, 'tis time of roses now;?Midst roses let us break each penitential vow;?With shout and antic bound we'll in the garden stray;?When nightingales are heard, we'll rove where roses blow;?Here in this open spot fill, fill, and quaff away;?Midst roses here we stand a troop with hearts that glow;?The rose our long-miss'd friend retains in full array;?No fairer pearls than friends and cups the roses know;?Poor Hafiz loves the rose, and down his soul would lay,?With joy, to win the dust its guardian's foot below.
2.
If shedding lovers' blood thou deem'st a matter slight,?No goodness I can plead to scare thee and affright,?O Thou, in whose black locks night's Genius stands confest, Whose maiden cheek displays the morning's Master bright.?My eyes to fountains turn, down pouring on my breast,?I sink amid their waves, to swim I have no might.?O ruby lip, by thee life's water is possest,?Thou couldst awake the dead to vigour and delight;?There's no salvation from the tresses which invest?Those temples, nor from eyes swift-flashing left and right. Devotion, piety I plead not to arrest?My doom, no goodness crowns the passion-madden'd wight;?Thy prayer unmeaning cease, with which thou weariest,?O Hafiz, the most High at morning and at night.
3.
O Thou, whose equal mind knows no vexation,?Who holding love in deep abomination,?On love's divan to loiter wilt not deign,?Thy wit doth merit every commendation.?Love's visions never will disturb his brain,?Who drinketh of the vine the sweet oblation;?And know, thou passion-smit, pale visag'd swain,?There's medicine to work thy restoration;?Ever in memory the receipt retain--?'Tis quaffing wine-cups to intoxication.
STANZAS.
From the Turkish of Fezouli.
O Fezouli, the hour is near,?Which bids thee from this world depart,?And leave--what now thou hold'st so dear--?The loves of thy too ardent heart.
Yet till that fated hour arrive,?Be thy emprises, every one,?If thou wouldst fain behold them thrive,?In God's Almighty name begun.
DESCRIPTION OF PARADISE.
From the Turkish.?(Translated from the metrical History of the World.)
Eight Gennets {8} there be, as some relate,?Or one subdivided, as others state;?The first Dar al Galal, the next is Salem,?And Gennet Amawi stands next to them;?Then Kholud and Nayim and Gennet Ferdous--?And that last as most lovely is pictur'd to us;?A seventh there is, Dar al Karar the same,?And an eighth there is also, and Ad is its name.?God made Dar al Galal of white pearls fair,?Then of rubies Al Salem, so red in their glare;?He made Gennet Kholud so splendid to stand?Of bright yellow corals, so smooth to the hand;?Then blest Gennet Nayim of silver ore--?Behold ye its strength, and its Maker adore.?Gold bricks He employ'd when He built Ferdous,?And of living sapphires Al Karar rose.?He made the eighth Gennet of jewels all,?With arbours replete 'tis a diamond hall.?Broad and vast is paradise-peak--?The lowest foundation is not weak.?One over the other the stories are pil'd:?The loftiest story Ad is styl'd.?From above or below if you cast your eyes,?You can see the Gennets in order rise.?You ask, for whom are those mansions gay;?For the prophets of God, for his lov'd, I say.
Seven walls are plac'd, which to open are meant,?Far betwixt them is the extent;?Betwixt two walls the whole doth stand,?Walls uncrumbling, mighty and grand.?Within are bowers, cedar-woods dusk,?Houries and odours of amber and musk;?Eight are the gates for the eight estates,?Jewel-beset, gold-beaming gates;?Upon the first inscrib'd you see:?For those who repent this gate is free.?On the second: for those who up-offer pray'r;?On the third: for the sons of charity fair.?On the fourth this solemn inscription stands:?For those who fulfil the Lord's commands.?In painted letters the fifth doth say:?For those who for pilgrimage gold up-lay.?The sixth fair portal thus proclaims:?For ye who inhibit from sin your frames;?The seventh: for God's own warrior train,?Who bleed for his cause, nor flinch from pain.?'Tis written in white the eighth above:?For those who instruct for Allah's love {10}.?For ye who serve God with heart and eye,?Control your passions when swelling high,?Your parents cherish and all your race,?For ye are the halls of joy and grace;?For