So when at last the Angel of the drink Of Darkness finds you by the river-brink, And, proffering his Cup, invites your Soul Forth to your Lips to quaff it--do not shrink. XLVII And fear not lest Existence closing _your_ Account, should lose, or know the type no more; The Eternal Sákí from that Bowl has pour'd Millions of Bubbles like us, and will pour. XLVIII When You and I behind the Veil are past, Oh, but the long long while the World shall last, Which of our Coming and Departure heeds As much as Ocean of a pebble-cast. XLIX One Moment in Annihilation's Waste, One Moment, of the Well of Life to taste-- The Stars are setting, and the Caravan Draws to the Dawn of Nothing--Oh, make haste! L Would you that spangle of Existence spend About THE SECRET--quick about it, Friend! A Hair, they say, divides the False and True-- And upon what, prithee, does Life depend? LI A Hair, they say, divides the False and True; Yes; and a single Alif were the clue-- Could you but find it, to the Treasure-house, And peradventure to THE MASTER too; LII Whose secret Presence, through Creation's veins Running, Quicksilver-like eludes your pains; Taking all shapes from Máh to Máhi; and They change and perish all--but He remains; LIII A moment guess'd--then back behind the Fold Immerst of Darkness round the Drama roll'd Which, for the Pastime of Eternity, He does Himself contrive, enact, behold. LIV But if in vain, down on the stubborn floor Of Earth, and up to Heav'n's unopening Door, You gaze TO-DAY, while You are You--how then TO-MORROW, You when shall be You no more? LV Oh, plagued no more With Human or Divine, To-morrow's tangle to itself resign, And lose your fingers in the tresses of The Cypress-slender Minister of Wine. LVI Waste not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit Of This and That endeavour and dispute; Better be merry with the fruitful Grape Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit. LVII You know, my Friends, how bravely 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 LVIII For "IS" and "IS-NOT" though with Rule and Line, And "UP-AND-DOWN" by Logic I define, Of all that one should care to fathom, I Was never deep in anything but--Wine. LIX Ah, but my Computations, People say, Have squared the Year to human compass, eh? If so, by striking from the Calendar Unborn To-morrow, and dead Yesterday. LX And lately, by the Tavern Door agape, Came shining through the Dusk an Angel Shape Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and He bid me taste of it; and 'twas--the Grape! LXI