Awake! 'Tis Day! Rise up, O Youthful Mussulman! Pack quick thy Goods and Baggage, and catch the Caravan. O List! I hear it coming, 'twill sweep past while you sleep; Hark! Tinkling Bells are calling to come, while come you can. When once the Desert Sand-storm has o'er the Foot-prints blown, You them will find no longer, however close you scan. Up! Brace yourself for Action, as a Man all prompt and bold; And waste not Life fond, dreaming, in idlesse, pining, wan. Think of your noble Forbears, the gallant Youth of old; Of Rustum, bravest Hero; of Sal, the Pehlevan.[26] Be, too, of Right the Champion, Knight of the spotless Sun! Fall not a Prey to Darkness, o'erthrown by Ahriman. When once in struggle valiant, the earthly Soul is slain, The Heavenly Soul bears proudly Life's Banner in the Van. When thou thyself hast conquered, and triumphed in the Fight; A diamond Ring thou'lt ever shine, in our Lord Shah's Divan. [26] Pehlevan, _i.e._ of the old heroic Age. 'Rustum, the "Hercules" of Persia, and Zál his Father, whose exploits are among the most celebrated in the Sháhnáma' (Fitzgerald). Compare Matthew Arnold's 'Sohrab and Rustum. An Episode.' Bondage XIX. Complain not that in Chains, thou here art firmly bound; Complain not that Earth's Yoke, doth crush thee to the Ground. Complain not that the World is but a Prison wide; 'Tis only thy complainings that build thy Dungeon round. And ask not how Life's Riddle will finally unfold; For soon without thy asking, unfolded 'twill be found. Say not Love has forsaken or yet forgotten thee; Love ne'er has Man forsaken; thy Words all falsely sound. Nor tremble when Death dreaded appears in Terror's Form; He falls before the Hero, who is with Courage crowned. Ne'er chase the Phantom, Pleasure; for like a hungry Lion, 'Twill turn and rend in pieces the Hunter most renowned. Throw not thyself in Fetters; else will Men sternly say: Complain not of thy Fetters; for thou thyself hast bound. Love's Freedom XX. O Bird, that freest to Freedom win; Love caged thee in that Prison thin. O Soul, if thou, too, wouldst be free, Then love the Love that shuts thee in. 'Tis Love that twisteth every Snare; 'Tis Love that snaps the Bond of Sin. Love sounds the Music of the Spheres; Love echoes through Earth's harshest Din. Love fills with Fragrance Heaven's sweet Air; Love's deft Hands Life's gold Fibres spin. The World is God's pure Mirror clear, To Eyes when free from Clouds within. With Love's own Eyes the Mirror view, And there see God to Self akin. Then praise Him, Soul, enflamed with Love As Larks in Dawn, new Songs begin. In My Heart XXI.