So through the Day—so through another still— The Day became a Seventh—the Seventh a Moon— The Moon a Year—while they rejoiced together, Thinking their pleasure never was to end. But rolling Heaven whisper'd from his Ambush, "So in my License is it not set down. Ah for the sweet Societies I make At Morning and before the Nightfall break; Ah for the Bliss that with the Setting Sun I mix, and, with his Rising, all is done!" Into Bagdad came a hungry Arab—after many days of waiting In to the Khalífah's Supper Push'd, and got before a Pasty Luscious as the Lip of Beauty, Or the Tongue of Eloquence. Soon as seen, Indecent Hunger Seizes up and swallows down; Then his mouth undaunted wiping— "Oh Khalífah, hear me Swear, Not of any other Pasty Than of Thine to sup or dine." The Khalífah laugh'd and answer'd; "Fool; who thinkest to determine What is in the Hands of Fate— Take and thrust him from the Gate!" XIII. While a Full Year was counted by the Moon, Salámán and Absál rejoiced together, And for so long he stood not in the face Of Sage or Shah, and their bereavéd Hearts Were torn in twain with the Desire of Him. They question'd those about him, and from them Heard something; then Himself in Presence summon'd, And, subtly sifting on all sides, so plied Interrogation till it hit the Mark, And all the Truth was told. Then Sage and Shah Struck out with Hand and Foot in his Redress. And First with Reason, which is also Best; Reason that rights the Retrograde—completes The Imperfect—Reason that unties the Knot: For Reason is the Fountain from of old From which the Prophets drew, and none beside. Who boasts of other Inspiration lies— There are no other Prophets than The Wise. XIV.