Nor shall the mind revoke at ease These myriad cressets from the sun; Constrained in sober destinies Thought’s river shall its ripples run Into the one, the one, the one, the one. Bursting the universe, a grip Girds me to God; aha! the bliss! Begone, frail tortures wrung from whip, Weak joys sucked hard from leman’s lip, Ye are naught at all, are naught at all, in this! But brown Habiba’s fawn-wide gaze And white Zuleikha’s drowsy glance Woo me to waking unto day’s Delight from night’s unmeasured trance :— To drink, to dally, to desire, to dance. Ah! beautiful and firm your hips, Habib! ah! coolthsome your caress, Zuleikha! soft your honey lips— The tongue of pleasure subtly sips The wine that age distils, and calls distress. 66