The goblet as affliction's Khusrev's bright Keyani crown doth shine; And surely doth the wine-jar love's King's Khusrevani hoard enshrine. Whene'er the feast recalls Jemshid, down from its eyes the red blood rolls; The rosy-tinted wine its tears, the beakers its blood-weeping eyne. At parting's banquet should the cup, the heart, with blood brim o'er were't strange? A bowl that, to the fair we'll drain, a goblet filled full high with wine. O Moon, if by thy door one day the foe should sudden me o'ertake— A woe by Heaven decreed, a fate to which I must myself resign! The fume of beauty's and of grace's censer is thy cheek's sweet mole, The smoke thereof thy musky locks that spreading fragrant curl and twine; Thy cheek rose-hued doth light its taper at the moon that shines most bright, Its candlestick at grace's feast is yonder collar fair of thine. Of love and passion is the lustrous sheen of Baqi's verse the cause; As Life's Stream brightly this doth shine; but that, th' Eternal Life Divine. [Illustration: THE ANCIENT CHURCH OF ST. SOPHIA. _The former Christian Cathedral of Ancient Constantinople, now converted into the chief Mohammedan Mosque._ © UNDERWOOD & UNDERWOOD, N.Y.] GAZEL When the sheets have yonder Torment to their bosom ta'en to rest, Think I, "Hides the night-adorning Moon within the cloudlet's breast." In the dawning, O thou turtle, mourn not with those senseless plaints; In the bosom of some stately cypress thou'rt a nightly guest. Why thou weepest from the heavens, never can I think, O dew; Every night some lovely rose's bosom fair thou enterest. Hath the pearl seen in the story of thy teeth its tale of shame, Since the sea hath hid the album of the shell within its breast? Longing for thy cheeks, hath Baqi all his bosom marked with scars, Like as though he'd cast of rose-leaves fresh a handful o'er his chest. ELEGY ON SULTAN SULEIMAN I.