opped Sleep by force:
I painted, musing on thy down, upon the water-course.

Then, viewing my Beloved one's brow--my cowl burnt up--
In honor of the sacred Arch I drained my flowing cup.

From my dear friend's resplendent brow pure light was shed;
And on that moon there fell from far the kisses that I sped.

The face of Saki charmed my eye, the harp my ear:
At once for both mine ear and eye what omens glad were here!

I painted thine ideal face till morning's light,
Upon the studio of my eye, deprived of sleep at night.

My Saki took at this sweet strain the wine-bowl up:
I sang to him these verses first; then drank to sparkling cup.

If any of my bird-like thoughts from joy's branch flew,
Back from the springes of thy lock their fleeting wings I drew.

The time of Hafiz passed in joy:
To friends I brought
For fortune and the days of life
The omens that they sought.

CLVII

Come, Sufi, let us from our limbs the dress that's worn for cheat Draw:
Let us a blotting line right through this emblem of deceit
Draw.

The convent's revenues and alms we'd sacrifice for wine awhile,
And through the vintry's fragrant flood this dervish-robe of guile
Draw.

Intoxicated, forth we'll dash, and from our feasting foe's rich stores
Bear off his wine, and then by force his charmer out of doors
Draw.

Fate may conceal her mystery, shut up within her hiding pale,
But we who act as drunken men will from its face the veil
Draw.

Here let us shine by noble deeds, lest we at last ashamed appear,
When starting for the other world, we hence our spirit's gear
Draw.

To-morrow at Rizvan's green glade, should they refuse to make it ours,
We from their halls will the ghilman, the houris from their bowers
Draw.

Where can we see her winking brow, that we, as the new moon of old,
At once may the celestial ball, as with a bat of gold,
Draw?

O Hafiz! it becomes us not
Our boastful claims thus forth to put:
Beyond the limits of our rug
Why would we fain our foot
Draw?

CLIX

Aloud I say it, and with heart of glee:
"Love's slave am I, and from both worlds am free."

Can I, the bird of sacred gardens, tell
Into this net of chance how first I fell?

My place the Highest Heaven, an angel born,
I came by Adam to this cloister lorn.

Sweet houris, Tuba's shade, and Fountain's brink