They say the Lion and the Lizard keep The Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep; And Bahram, that great Hunter--the Wild Ass Stamps o'er his Head, and he lies fast asleep. XVIII. I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Cæsar bled; That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head. XIX. And this delightful Herb whose tender Green Fledges the River's Lip on which we lean-- Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen! XX. Ah, my Belovéd, fill the Cup that clears TO-DAY of past Regrets and future Fears-- _To-morrow_?--Why, To-morrow I may be Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years. XXI. Lo! some we loved, the loveliest and best That Time and Fate of all their Vintage prest, Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before, And one by one crept silently to Rest. XXII. And we, that now make merry in the Room They left, and Summer dresses in new Bloom, Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth Descend, ourselves to make a Couch--for whom? XXIII. Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend, Before we too into the Dust descend; Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie, Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and--sans End! XXIV. Alike for those who for TO-DAY prepare, And those that after a TO-MORROW stare, A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries «Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There!» XXV. Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd Of the Two Worlds so learnedly, are thrust Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn Are scatter'd and their Mouths are stopt with Dust. XXVI. Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies; One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies; The Flower that once has blown for ever dies. XXVII. Myself when young did eagerly frequent Doctor and Saint, and heard great Argument About it and about: but evermore Came out by the same Door as in I went. XXVIII. With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow, And with my own hand labour'd it to grow: And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd-- «I came like Water, and like Wind I go.» XXIX. Into this Universe, and _why_ not knowing, Nor _whence_, like Water willy-nilly flowing: And out of it, as Wind along the Waste, I know not _whither_, willy-nilly blowing. XXX. What, without asking, hither hurried _whence?_ And, without asking, _whither_ hurried hence! Another and another Cup to drown The Memory of this Impertinence! XXXI. Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate, And many Knots unravel'd by the Road; But not the Knot of Human Death and Fate. XXXII.