I close the door of hope in my own face, Nor sue for favours from good men, or base; I have but ONE to lend a helping hand, He knows, as well as I, my sorry case. 315. C. L. N. A. I. J. A «_Haliya_» quatrain, lamenting his own condition. 316. Ah! by these heavens, that ever circling run, And by my own base lusts I am undone, Without the wit to abandon worldly hopes, And wanting sense the world's allures to shun! 316. C. L. N. A. I. J. 317. On earth's green carpet many sleepers lie, And hid beneath it others I descry, And others, not yet come, or passed away, People the desert of Nonentity! 317. C. L. N. A. I. J. The sleepers on the earth are those sunk in the sleep of superstition and ignorance. 318. Sure of Thy grace, for sins why need I fear? How can the pilgrim faint whilst Thou art near? On the last day Thy grace will wash me white, And make my «black record» to disappear. 318. C. L. N. A. I. J. Lumsden, ii, 72. See Koran, xiii. 47. 319. Think not I dread from out the world to hie, And see my disembodied spirit fly; I tremble not at death, for death is true, 'Tis my ill life that makes me fear to die! 319. C. L. N. A. I. J. «Death is true,» _i.e._ a certainty. So Sir Philip Sidney (after M. Aurelius), «Since Nature's works be good, and death doth serve as Nature's work, why should we fear to die?» 320. Let us shake off dull reason's incubus, Our tale of days or years cease to discuss, And take our jugs, and plenish them with wine, Or e'er grim potters make their jugs of us! 320. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. 321. How much more wilt thou chide, O raw divine, For that I drink, and am a libertine? Thou hast thy weary beads, and saintly show, Leave me my cheerful sweetheart, and my wine! 321. C. L. N. A. I. J. 322. Against my lusts I ever war, in vain, I think on my ill deeds with shame and pain; I trust Thou wilt assoil me of my sins, But even so, my shame must still remain. 322. C. L. N. A. B. I. 323. In these twin compasses, O Love, you see One body with two heads, like you and me, Which wander round one centre, circlewise. But at the last in one same point agree. 323. C. L. N. A. I. Mr. Fitzgerald quotes a similar figure used by the poet Donne, for which see Ward's «English Poets,» i. 562. The two heads are the points of the compasses. 324. We shall not stay here long, but while we do, 'Tis folly wine and sweethearts to eschew; Why ask if earth etern or transient be? Since you must go, it matters not to you. 324. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. 325. In reverent sort to mosque I wend my way, But, by great Allah, it is not to pray; No! but to steal a prayer-mat! When 'tis worn, I go again, another to purvey.