Oh that a fragrant breath might reach the soul from early spring! Oh that with warbling sweet of birds the groves once more might ring! Oh that in melody the songs anew might rose-like swell! That fresh in grace and voice the nightingale be heard to sing! Oh that the New Year’s Day were come, when, minding times gone by, Should each and all from Time and Fate demand their reckoning! In short, O Bakhtī, would the early vernal days were here, Then, ’midst the mead, ne’er should we part from brink of limpid spring. _Bakhtī._ GAZEL Soon as I beheld thee, mazed and wildered grew my sad heart; How shall I my love disclose to thee who tyrant dread art? How shall I hold straight upon my road, when yonder Torment Smitten hath my breast with deadly wounds by her eyelash dart? Face, a rose; and mouth, a rosebud; form, a slender sapling-- How shall I not be the slave of Princess such as thou art? Ne’er hath heart a beauty seen like her of graceful figure; Joyous would I for yon charmer’s eyebrow with my life part. Fārisī, what can I do but love that peerless beauty? Ah! this aged Sphere hath made me lover of yon sweetheart. _Fārisī._ MUSEDDES Ah! that once again my heart with blood is filled, like beaker, high; At the feast of parting from my love I fell, and prostrate lie; O’er this wildered heart the gloom of frenzy, conquering, doth fly; In the valley of distraction ne’er a guide can I descry. Heedless mistress! loveless Fortune! ever-shifting, restless sky! Sorrows many! friends not any! strong-starred foeman! feeble I! In the land of exile loomed dark on one side the night of woe, Nowhere o’er me did the lustrous moon of beauty’s heaven glow; Yonder glared the Two Infortunes, sank my helping planet low; Here did fortune, there did gladness, parting from me, distant go. Heedless mistress! loveless Fortune! ever-shifting, restless sky! Sorrows many! friends not any! strong-starred foeman! feeble I! Strange is’t if the nightingale, my heart, in thousand notes doth wail? Fate to part it from the rosebud, the belovèd, did prevail; Whilst I’m on the thorn of anguish, rivals with my love regale: Why recite my woes, O comrades? space were none to tell their tale! Heedless mistress! loveless Fortune! ever-shifting, restless sky! Sorrows many! friends not any! strong-starred foeman! feeble I! E’en a moment at the feast of woes from tears can I refrain? How shall not the wine, my tears, down rolling, all my vestment stain? Can it be with e’en one breath I should not like the reed complain? Sad, confused, like end of banquet, why then should not I remain? Heedless mistress! loveless Fortune! ever-shifting, restless sky! Sorrows many! friends not any! strong-starred foeman! feeble I!