78.

The Three Khalandeers

La

THE WAIL

a' laha, il Allah!

Here we meet, we three, at length,
Amrah, Osman, Perizad:

Shorn of all our grace and strength,
Poor, and old, and very sad.

We have lived, but live no more;
Life has lost its gloss for us,
Since the days we spent of yore
Boating down the Bosphorus !
La' laha, il Allah!

The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus !
Old time brought home no loss for us;
We felt full of health and heart

Upon the foamy Bosphorus !

La' laba, il Allah!

Days indeed! A shepherd's tent
Served us then for house and fold;
All to whom we gave or lent,
Paid us back a thousandfold.
Troublous years, by myriads wail'd,

Rarely had a cross for us,

Never, when we gaily sail'd

Singing down the Bosphorus.
La' laha, il Allah !

The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus !
There never came a cross for us,
While we daily, gaily sail'd

La' laha, il Allah!

Blithe as birds we flew along,

Laugh'd and quaff'd and stared about;
Wine and roses, mirth and song,
Were what most we cared about.
Fame we left for quacks to seek,
Gold was dust and dross for us,
While we lived from week to week
Boating down the Bosphorus.
La' laba, il Allah!

The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus !
And gold was dust and dross for us,

While we lived from week to week

Boating down the Bosphorus.

La' laha, il Allah!

Friends we were, and would have shared
Purses, had we twenty full.

If we spent, or if we spared,
Still our funds were plentiful.
Save the hours we pass'd apart,
Time brought home no loss for us;
We felt full of hope and heart
While we clove the Bosphorus.
La' laha, il Allah !

The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus !
For life has lost its gloss for us
Since the days we spent of yore
Upon the pleasant Bosphorus !

La' laha, il Allah!

Ah! for youth's delirious hours,

Man pays well in after-days,

When quenched hopes and palsied powers

Mock his love-and-laughter days.

Thorns and thistles on our path
Took the place of moss for us,
Till false fortune's tempest-wrath
Drove us from the Bosphorus.
La' laba, il Allah!

The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus !

When thorns took place of moss for us,
Gone was all! Our hearts were graves
Deep, deeper than the Bosphorus.
La' laba, il Allah!

Gone is all! In one abyss

Lie health, youth, and merriment!
All we've learnt amounts to this:
Life's a sad experiment!

What it is we trebly feel

Pondering what it was for us,
When our shallop's bounding keel
Clove the joyous Bosphorus.
La' laba, il Allah!

The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus !
We wail for what life was for us,
When our shallop's bounding keel
Clove the joyous Bosphorus !

THE WARNING

La' laha, il Allah !

Pleasure tempts, yet man has none
Save himself t' accuse, if her
Temptings prove, when all is done,
Lures hung out by Lucifer.
Guard your fire in youth, O friends!
Manhood's is but phosphorus,
And bad luck attends and ends
Boatings down the Bosphorus !

La' laba, il Allah !

The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus !
Youth's fire soon wanes to phosphorus,
And slight luck or grace attends
Your boaters down the Bosphorus !

79.

Gone in the Wind

OLOMON, where is thy throne? It is gone in the

So wind.

Babylon, where is thy might? It is gone in the wind. Like the swift shadows of noon, like the dreams of the

blind,

Vanish the glories and pomps of the earth in the wind.

Man, canst thou build upon aught in the pride of thy mind?

Wisdom will teach thee that nothing can tarry behind : Tho' there be thousand bright actions embalm'd and enshrined,

Myriads and millions of brighter are snow in the wind.

Solomon, where is thy throne? It is gone in the wind. Babylon, where is thy might? It is gone in the wind. All that the genius of man hath achieved or design'd Waits but its hour to be dealt with as dust by the wind.

Say what is pleasure? A phantom, a mask undefined: Science? An almond whereof we can pierce but the rind : Honour and affluence? Firmans that Fortune hath sign'd,

Solomon, where is thy throne? It is gone in the wind. Babylon, where is thy might? It is gone in the wind. Who is the fortunate? He who in anguish hath pined! He shall rejoice when his relics are dust in the wind.

Mortal, be careful with what thy best hopes are entwined: Woe to the miners for Truth, where the lampless have mined!

Woe to the seekers on earth for what none ever find! They and their trust shall be scatter'd like leaves to the wind!

Solomon, where is thy throne? It is gone in the wind.
Babylon, where is thy might? It is gone in the wind.
Happy in death are they only whose hearts have consign'd
All earth's affections and longings and cares to the wind.
Pity thou, reader, the madness of poor humankind
Raving of knowledge—and Satan so busy to blind!
Raving of glory, like me; for the garlands I bind,
Garlands of song, are but gather'd-and strewn in the wind.
Solomon, where is thy throne? It is gone in the wind
Babylon, where is thy might? It is gone in the wind.
I, Abul-Namez, must rest; for my fire is declined,
And I hear voices from Hades like bells on the wind.

80.

V

To Amine

VEIL not thy mirror, sweet Amine,
Till night shall also veil each star!
Thou seest a twofold marvel there:
The only face so fair as thine,
The only eyes that, near or far,