Alike for those who for To-day prepare, And those that after a To-morrow stare, A Muezzín from the Tower of Darkness cries, "Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There!"] [Illustration: QUATRAIN XLII p. 61 [_First Edition of the Translation_] And lately, by the Tavern Door agape, Came stealing through the Dusk an Angel Shape Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and He bid me taste of it; and 'twas--the Grape!] XXIX Into this Universe, and _why_ not knowing, Nor _whence_, like Water willy-nilly flowing: And out of it, as Wind along the Waste, I know not _whither_, willy-nilly blowing. XXX What, without asking, hither hurried _whence?_ And, without asking, _whither_ hurried hence! Another and another Cup to drown The Memory of this Impertinence! XXXI Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate, And many Knots unravel'd by the Road; But not the Knot of Human Death and Fate. XXXII There was a Door to which I found no Key: There was a Veil past which I could not see: Some little Talk awhile of ME and THEE There seem'd--and then no more of THEE and ME. XXXIII Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried, Asking, "What Lamp had Destiny to guide Her little Children stumbling in the Dark?" And--"A blind Understanding!" Heav'n replied. XXXIV Then to this earthen Bowl did I adjourn My Lip the secret Well of Life to learn: And Lip to Lip it murmur'd--"While you live Drink!--for once dead you never shall return." XXXV I think the Vessel, that with fugitive Articulation answer'd, once did live, And merry-make; and the cold Lip I kiss'd How many Kisses might it take--and give! XXXVI For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day, I watch'd the Potter thumping his wet Clay: And with its all obliterated Tongue It murmur'd--"Gently, Brother, gently, pray!" XXXVII Ah, fill the Cup:--what boots it to repeat How Time is slipping underneath our Feet: Unborn TO-MORROW, and dead YESTERDAY Why fret about them if TO-DAY be sweet! XXXVIII One Moment in Annihilation's Waste, One Moment, of the Well of Life to taste-- The Stars are setting and the Caravan Starts for the Dawn of Nothing--Oh, make haste! XXXIX How long, how long, in definite Pursuit Of This and That endeavour and dispute? Better be merry with the fruitful Grape Than sadder after none, or bitter, Fruit. XL You know, my Friends, how long since in my House For a new Marriage I did make Carouse: Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed, And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse. XLI