Man, like a ball, hither and thither goes, As fate's resistless bat directs the blows; But He, who gives thee up to this rude sport, He knows what drives thee, yea, He knows, He knows! 401. C. L. A. I. J. Line 4 is in metre 22, consisting of ten syllables, all long. 402. O Thou who givest sight to emmet's eyes, And strength to puny limbs of feeble flies, To Thee we will ascribe Almighty power, And not base, unbecoming qualities. 402. L. An echo of the Asharian's discussions on the Divine attributes. 403. Let not base avarice enslave thy mind, Nor vain ambition in its trammels bind; Be sharp as fire, as running water swift, Not, like earth's dust, the sport of every wind! 403. L. C. A. I. J. 404. 'Tis best all other blessings to forego For wine, that charming Turki maids bestow; Kalendars' raptures pass all things that are, From moon on high down into fish below! 404. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. For _mah_ L. reads _hahk_ probably a Sufi gloss. Kalendars, bibulous Sufis. Fish, that whereon the earth was said to rest. 405. Friend! trouble not yourself about your lot, Let futile care and sorrow be forgot; Since this life's vesture crumbles into dust, What matters stain of word or deed, or blot? 405. L. N. 406. O thou who hast done ill, and ill alone, And thinkest to find mercy at the throne, Hope not for mercy! for good left undone Cannot be done, nor evil done undone! 406. N. A. I. This quatrain is by Abu Sa'id Abu'l Khair; and is an answer to No. 420, which is attributed to Avicenna. 407. Count not to live beyond your sixtieth year, To walk in jovial courses persevere; And ere your skull be turned into a cup, Let wine-cups ever to your hand adhere! 407. L. N. B. 408. These heavens resemble an inverted cup, Whereto the wise with awe keep gazing up; So stoops the bottle o'er his love, the cup, Feigning to kiss, and gives her blood to sup! 408. C. L. N. A. B. I. Blood, an emblem of hate. 409. I sweep the tavern threshold with my hair, For both world's good and ill I take no care; Should the two worlds roll to my house, like balls, When drunk, for one small coin I'd sell the pair! 409. L. N. B. 410. The drop wept for his severance from the sea, But the sea smiled, for «I am all,» said he, «The Truth is all, nothing exists beside, That one point circling apes plurality.» 410. N. This is in Ramal metre, No. 50. Compare _Gulshan i Raz_, line 710. 411. Shall I still sigh for what I have not got, Or try with cheerfulness to bear my lot? Fill up my cup! I know not if the breath I now am drawing is my last, or not! 411. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. Some MSS. place this quatrain under _Radif ya_. 412.