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Title: Odes
Author: George Borrow [
More Titles by Borrow]
From the Persian.
1.
Boy, hand my friends the cup, 'tis time of roses now;
Midst roses let us break each penitential vow;
With shout and antic bound we'll in the garden stray;
When nightingales are heard, we'll rove where roses blow;
Here in this open spot fill, fill, and quaff away;
Midst roses here we stand a troop with hearts that glow;
The rose our long-miss'd friend retains in full array;
No fairer pearls than friends and cups the roses know;
Poor Hafiz loves the rose, and down his soul would lay,
With joy, to win the dust its guardian's foot below.
2.
If shedding lovers' blood thou deem'st a matter slight,
No goodness I can plead to scare thee and affright,
O Thou, in whose black locks night's Genius stands confest,
Whose maiden cheek displays the morning's Master bright.
My eyes to fountains turn, down pouring on my breast,
I sink amid their waves, to swim I have no might.
O ruby lip, by thee life's water is possest,
Thou couldst awake the dead to vigour and delight;
There's no salvation from the tresses which invest
Those temples, nor from eyes swift-flashing left and right.
Devotion, piety I plead not to arrest
My doom, no goodness crowns the passion-madden'd wight;
Thy prayer unmeaning cease, with which thou weariest,
O Hafiz, the most High at morning and at night.
3.
O Thou, whose equal mind knows no vexation,
Who holding love in deep abomination,
On love's divan to loiter wilt not deign,
Thy wit doth merit every commendation.
Love's visions never will disturb his brain,
Who drinketh of the vine the sweet oblation;
And know, thou passion-smit, pale visag'd swain,
There's medicine to work thy restoration;
Ever in memory the receipt retain--
'Tis quaffing wine-cups to intoxication.
[The end]
George Borrow's poem: Odes
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