Now when Salámán's heart turned to Absál, Her star was happy in the heavens--old Love Put forth afresh--Desire doubled his bond: And of the running time she watch'd an hour To creep into the mansion of her moon And satiate her soul upon his lips. And the hour came; she stole into his chamber-- Ran up to him, Life's offer in her hand-- And, falling like a shadow at his feet, She laid her face beneath. Salámán then With all the courtesies of princely grace Put forth his hand--he rais'd her in his arms-- He held her trembling there--and from that fount Drew first desire; then deeper from her lips, That, yielding, mutually drew from his A wine that ever drawn from never fail'd. So through the day--so through another still. The day became a seventh--the seventh a moon-- The moon a year--while they rejoiced together, Thinking their pleasure never was to end. But rolling Heaven whisper'd from his ambush, "So in my license is it not set down. Ah for the sweet societies I make At morning and before the nightfall break! Ah for that bliss that with the setting sun I mix, and, with his rising, all is done!" REASON Reason that rights the retrograde--completes The imperfect--reason that unites the knot; For reason is the fountain from of old From which the prophets drew, and none beside. Who boasts of other inspiration lies-- There are no other prophets than the wise. THE MOON OF LOVE O Shah, I am the slave of thy desire, Dust of thy throne, ascending foot am I; Whatever thou desirest I would do, But sicken of my own incompetence; Not in the hand of my infirmer will To carry into deed mine own desire. Time upon time I torture mine own soul, Devising liberation from the snare I languish in. But when upon that moon I _think_, my soul relapses; and when _look_-- I leave both worlds behind to follow her! LOVE Without my lover, Were my chamber Heaven's horizon, It were closer than an ant's eye; And the ant's eye wider were Than Heaven, my lover with me there! MORTAL PARAMOUR The Almighty 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, Crown'd in the light of intellectual truth. O 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! THE DIVINE UNION