The Shah ceased Counsel, and the Sage began. "Oh Thou new Vintage of a Garden old, Last Blazon of the Pen of 'Let There Be,' Who read'st the Seven and Four; interpretest The writing on the Leaves of Night and Day— Archetype of the Assembly of the World, Who hold'st the Key of Adam's Treasury— (Know thine own Dignity and slight it not, For Thou art Greater yet than all I tell)— The Mighty Hand that mix'd thy Dust inscribed The Character of Wisdom on thy Heart; O Cleanse Thy Bosom of Material Form, And turn the Mirror of the Soul to Spirit, Until it be with Spirit all possest, Drown'd in the Light of Intellectual Truth. Oh veil thine Eyes from Mortal Paramour, And follow not her Step!—For what is She?— What is She but a Vice and a Reproach, Her very Garment-hem Pollution! For such Pollution madden not thine Eyes, Waste not thy Body's Strength, nor taint thy Soul, Nor set the Body and the Soul in Strife! Supreme is thine Original Degree, Thy Star upon the Top of Heaven; but Lust Will fling it down even unto the Dust!" Quoth a Muezzin unto Crested Chanticleer—"Oh Voice of Morning, Not a Sage of all the Sages Prophesies of Dawn, or startles At the wing of Time, like Thee. One so wise methinks were fitter Perching on the Beams of Heaven, Than with those poor Hens about him, Raking in a Heap of Dung." "And," replied the Cock, "in Heaven Once I was; but by my Evil Lust am fallen down to raking With my wretched Hens about me On the Dunghill. Otherwise I were even now in Eden With the Bird of Paradise." XVII. When from The Sage these words Salámán heard, The breath of Wisdom round his Palate blew; He said—"Oh Darling of the Soul of Plato, To whom a hundred Aristotles bow; Oh Thou that an Eleventh to the Ten Original Intelligences addest,— I lay my Face before Thee in the Dust, The humblest Scholar of thy Court am I; Whose every word I find a Well of Wisdom, And hasten to imbibe it in my Soul. But clear unto thy clearest Eye it is, That Choice is not within Oneself—To Do, Not in The Will, but in The Power, to Do. From that which I originally am How shall I swerve? or how put forth a Sign Beyond the Power that is by Nature Mine?" XVIII.