Enough to think such things may be: to say they are not or they are Were folly: leave them all to Fate, nor wage on shadows useless war. Do what thy manhood bids thee do, from none but self expect applause; He noblest lives and noblest dies who makes and keeps his self-made laws. All other Life is living Death, a world where none but Phantoms dwell, A breath, a wind, a sound, a voice, a tinkling of the camel-bell. IX How then shall man so order life that when his tale of years is told, Like sated guest he wend his way; how shall his even tenour hold? Despite the Writ that stores the skull; despite the Table and the Pen;* Maugre the Fate that plays us down, her board the world, her pieces men? * Emblems of Kismet, or Destiny. How when the light and glow of life wax dim in thickly gath’ering gloom, Shall mortal scoff at sting of Death, shall scorn the victory of the Tomb? One way, two paths, one end the grave. This runs athwart the flow’ery plain, That breasts the bush, the steep, the crag, in sun and wind and snow and rain: Who treads the first must look adown, must deem his life an all in all; Must see no heights where man may rise, must sight no depths where man may fall. Allah in Adam form must view; adore the Maker in the made. Content to bask in Mâyâ’s smile,* in joys of pain, in lights of shade. * Illusion. He breaks the Law, he burns the Book, he sends the Moolah back to school; Laughs at the beards of Saintly men; and dubs the Prophet dolt and fool, Embraces Cypress’ taper-waist; cools feet on wavy breast of rill; Smiles in the Nargis’ love-lorn eyes, and ’joys the dance of Daffodil; Melts in the saffron light of Dawn to hear the moaning of the Dove; Delights in Sundown’s purpling hues when Bulbul woos the Rose’s love. Finds mirth and joy in Jamshid-bowl; toys with the Daughter of the vine; And bids the beauteous cup-boy say, “Master I bring thee ruby wine!”* * That all the senses, even the ear, may enjoy. Sips from the maiden’s lips the dew; brushes the bloom from virgin brow:— Such is his fleshly bliss that strives the Maker through the Made to know. I’ve tried them all, I find them all so same and tame, so drear, so dry; My gorge ariseth at the thought; I commune with myself and cry:— Better the myriad toils and pains that make the man to manhood true, This be the rule that guideth life; these be the laws for me and you: With Ignor’ance wage eternal war, to know thy self forever strain, Thine ignorance of thine ignorance is thy fiercest foe, thy deadliest bane; That blunts thy sense, and dulls thy taste; that deafs thine ears, and blinds thine eyes; Creates the thing that never was, the Thing that ever is defies. The finite Atom infinite that forms thy circle’s centre-dot, So full-sufficient for itself, for other selves existing not,