Wherefore once more I take-best quitted else The Field of Verse...

Wherefore once more I take-best quitted else The Field of Verse, to chaunt that double Praise, And in that Memory refresh my Soul Until I grasp the Skirt of Living Presence. ne who travel’d in the Desert Saw Majnún where he was sitting All alone like a Magician Tracing Letters in the Sand. "Oh distracted Lover!

writing "What the Sword-wind of the Desert "Undecyphers soon as written, "So that none who travels after "Shall be able to interpret!"- Majnún answer’d, "I am writing "'Laili'-were it only 'Laili,' "Yet a Book of Love and Passion; "And, with but her Name to dote on, "Amorously I caress it "As it were Herself, and sip "Her Presence till I drink her Lip." III When Night had thus far brought me with my Book, In middle Thought Sleep robb’d me of myself; And in a Dream Myself I seem’d to see, Walking along a straight and even Road, And clean as is the Soul of the Sufi; A Road whose spotless Surface neither Breeze Lifted in Dust, nor mix’d the Rain to Mire.

There I, methought, was pacing tranquilly, When, on a sudden, the tumultuous Shout Of Soldiery behind broke on mine Ear, And took away my Wit and Strength for Fear. I look’d about for Refuge, and Behold!

A Palace was before me; whither running For Refuge from the coming Soldiery, Suddenly from the Troop a Sháhzemán, By Name and Nature Hasan-on the Horse Of Honour mounted-robed in Royal Robes, And wearing a White Turban on his Head, Turn’d his Rein tow’rd me, and with smiling Lips Open’d before my Eyes the Door of Peace.

Then, riding up to me, dismounted; kiss’d My Hand, and did me Courtesy; and I, How glad of his Protection, and the Grace He gave it with!-Who then of gracious Speech Many a Jewel utter’d; but of these Not one that in my Ear till Morning hung.

When, waking on my Bed, my waking Wit I question’d what the Vision meant, it answered; "This Courtesy and Favour of the Shah Foreshadows the fair Acceptance of thy Verse, Which lose no moment pushing to Conclusion." This hearing, I address’d me like a Pen To steady Writing; for perchance, I thought, From the same Fountain whence the Vision grew The Interpretation also may come True.

Breathless ran a simple Rustic To a Cunning Man of Dreams; "Lo, this Morning I was dreaming- "And methought, in yon deserted "Village wander’d-all about me "Shatter’d Houses-and, Behold!